Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He stood on top of the stairs to the beach, looking down on them.  With the sun rising behind them, his pupils were pinpoints, his irises shockingly bright.  He wore a thin windbreaker over a t-shirt that read ‘tracksuit’ and a pair of sweatpants with his signature red shoes.  His expression was strangely flat and blank.  He had never looked at them like that before.

“Deku?” said Ochako, uncertainly, taking a step forward, her hand half raised, as though she could reach him despite being so far away.

The commission instructor flung out an arm, stopping her.  He was staring up at the boy, too, his eyes blown wide, lips pulled back with something like worry, something like fear, and something like avarice.  “Whatever that is,” he said, “it isn’t Midoriya Izuku.”

.

Aizawa reviewed the program the commission had sent to him, ignoring the gentle bumping of the bus and the barely controlled chaos of the students around him.  It looked fairly straightforward, all things considered.  The requirement was new, and Aizawa felt it was illogical to test students like this, when they could simply have the material added to the course load, but, overall, he’d seen worse. 

So why did this bother him so much?

He scanned the paperwork again.  He was going to be getting the same certification as his students, had arranged to be part of the same general ‘cohort’ even, because he didn’t trust them on their own.  At all.  Ever. 

But that shouldn’t be an issue.  Even when they did get split up, they’d be going in groups of five and—

Ah.  There it was.  Groups of five, with any odd numbers being used to fill out other groups who were undergoing testing on the same day, most of whom were adult heroes, if he recalled correctly. 

With the addition of Aizawa, there were twenty-one of them. 

Calling on years of experience, Aizawa didn’t groan.  The thing was, Aizawa knew, even before arriving and having numbers and groups assigned, who the odd one out would be.  There was only one student who could be so problematic without trying or indeed having any control over the variables that went into causing the problem. 

Midoriya. 

Aizawa almost suspected that Midoriya had some secret trouble-attracting quirk on top of the lightning-spitting bone-breaking insanity and the randomly appearing eldritch abomination tentacle things.  It would fit right in. 

Sadly, Midoriya’s ability to find trouble didn’t seem to go away when Aizawa stared at him, so he had to acknowledge that the kid was just that unlucky. 

If Aizawa let Midoriya go off to complete the course on his own, he would probably discover that, oh, pro hero Wash was laundering money from an overseas smuggling operation disguised as an environmental clean up charity.  Or, somehow, locate a villain, despite being at a secure hero commission building.  Like he had during the provisional license exam.  Or break a bone.  Again.  Or discover a previously unknown aspect of his quirk.  Again.  Or get into a fight with Bakugo.  Again.

No way.  Not if Aizawa had anything to say about it. 

.

Izuku bounced in place, excited.  He was attending a professional development course given by the Hero Standards and Practices Commission.  It was like a dream come true!  Literally!  He dreamed about this!  Of course, he’d had the dream when he was seven, and he’d just learned about the HSPC and what it did, and All Might had been the course teacher, which he wasn’t going to be for this course, and which was also a little redundant, because All Might (Mr. Yagi, Toshinori, Eight) was already his teacher, and the reason behind this course, and making everyone with any kind of hero license take it, was a bit disturbing, and he’d had to opt out of some of the course features, because reasons, but, regardless—

“Midoriya,” said Jiro, tapping on his shoulder, “they’re calling for you.”

“Oh!  Thanks!” said Izuku, nodding vigorously, and, man, he really had to cut his hair soon.  It was getting long enough to fall in his eyes when he did that, and that would be distracting in the field.  Good thing it wouldn’t matter for today!

They weren’t going to be doing anything physical, after all. 

He walked up to the table, showed the person with the clip board his provisional license (he could still hardly believe he had it!  It was so cool!) and received a card with a number on it. 

“Pin that to your shirt,” said the man, hardly looking at him.  

At least, the man was trying to look like he was hardly looking at him.  Maybe he recognized him from the sports festival and didn’t want to make things awkward?  But it had been a while since the sports festival.  They tended to drain from common memory pretty quickly, and—

Oh, no, he’d been holding up the line.

He sketched a quick bow and ran over to where the rest of his classmates and teacher were waiting. 

“So,” said Aizawa, looking as exhausted as ever.  There was a spark of something in the man’s eye, though.  Vigilance.  Had he noticed something amiss?  Should Izuku be on alert as well?  “We have consecutive numbers, so most of us should be together in the same groups.  Problem child.”

Izuku jumped to attention.  “Yes, sir?”

… It was kind of sad that he answered to the name ‘problem child,’ wasn’t it?

(Was it sadder that he almost liked the nickname?  It was nicer than what some of his other teachers had called him.  It didn’t have the same bite.)

“Trade numbers with Yaoyorozu.”

Izuku blinked and looked at Yaoyorozu in surprise.  “Um,” he said.  “Okay?”  He unpinned his card and held it out to his classmate. 

Yaoyorozu took it carefully, frowning at the number.  “Why are we doing this, sensei?” she asked. 

“Because knowing his luck, Midoriya is going to be the odd one out, and you’re the only one I trust not to kill someone or get kidnapped if you’re left on your own.”

Okay.  Harsh.  But fair. 

“What about Iida?” asked Kaminari. 

“I know what I said.”

Harsher—Wait.  Aizawa knew about that?  Since when?!

“Didn’t she go off that one time, though?  At Kamino?”

Aizawa turned to stare at Mina, who held her hands up.  “Forget I said anything, sensei!”

“No, no, you’re right.  Hagakure, you take Midoriya’s number.”

“Eh, me?” asked the invisible girl. 

“Yes,” said Aizawa. 

“Er, are you sure?  I don’t know if I could survive a Midoriya-level calamity!”

Izuku felt his jaw drop a little.  Was that what they were calling it now?  Rude. 

“The calamity won’t happen if he isn’t there,” reasoned Aizawa. 

Which.  Okay.  True.  But also, rude. 

Izuku wasn’t that bad, was he?

Izuku took Hagakure’s card.  The number put him between Uraraka and Aizawa, so he’d probably be with at least one of them.  On reflection, Yaoyorozu’s number had put him on the other side of Aizawa.  Which probably wasn’t a coincidence. 

The rest of the class got through registration shortly thereafter, with several of his classmates trying to trade their own numbers, only for Iida to scold them.  Which was typical, really.  It was almost calming, and Izuku needed calm after… that.

Was his luck really that bad?

Now he was much more nervous than before.  Except, before he’d been excited, and, now, he was really—

Not. 

He fiddled with the sleeve of his uniform, trying not to pick at his scars or cross the line into overtly fidgeting and being distracting.  He wished he’d brought one of his grip strength training tools.  At least with those he could pretend their only purpose was working out, unlike his other fidget toys. 

Oh, gosh, was that pro hero Rosemary, the memory hero?  And Strato!  The high altitude hero!

Wow, he’d been so worried he almost hadn’t noticed how many amazing heroes were here!  There were even some he didn’t know!

And then they were being called up, number by number. 

Hagakure, true to Aizawa’s prediction, was placed with a group of confused-looking strangers, including Rosemary.  Izuku was almost jealous.  He’d love to learn how her quirk worked. 

Actually…  All of the people in that group were heroes with mental quirks.  How interesting!  Izuku would have to ask Hagakure if they gave her any tips.  He was sure they’d have different insights than the other people in their class, especially considering the subject matter of the course. 

The subject matter being combating mental attacks. 

That’s why Izuku had to opt out of being a ‘subject’ for the course.  He didn’t entirely understand it, not yet, but One for All definitely had a mental aspect, and he didn’t know how or if that would show up in a simulated attack like the ones they’d be demonstrating.  It was better to play it safe.  His quirk was already weird enough as it was.  He still wasn’t sure how he’d manage to talk Aizawa and his classmates out of being suspicious after blackwhip came out.  Most of that day was a blur. 

Izuku suspected that things would not have been smoothed over nearly so easily if Nezu hadn’t known about One for All. 

He also wasn’t looking forward to the reaction when the other user’s quirks started coming out – Even if being able to use them was going to be really cool. 

Anyway, his own group had resolved itself to consist of Aizawa, Uraraka, Iida, and Todoroki.  He was relieved.  Todoroki looked relieved, too.  That made sense.  With what Todoroki had told Izuku about his history, he wouldn’t want to be doing this with people he didn’t know, either. 

But Todoroki would have opted out, anyway, right?  Or did Endeavor not let him?  Honestly, that would be par for the course for Endeavor.  Todoroki said he was getting better, but…  Izuku had doubts.  He liked to think that people could always be saved, even from themselves, that most villains could be reformed, even if the government didn’t think so, that people like Endeavor and Kacchan could see the error of their ways.  But. 

But even though Kacchan was better than he was before didn’t mean that he didn’t still do things that Izuku… didn’t like. 

And he couldn’t imagine that Endeavor was changing faster than Kacchan. 

“Who will they have us do first, do you think?” asked Uraraka.  “I mean, I know they’re going to go through all of us, but all of this is making me so nervous.  I have a lot of embarrassing memories, I mean, I’m sure everyone does, but, ugh, that didn’t come out right…”

“Well!” said Iida, energetically.  “If they let us volunteer, I shall go first!”

“What?” said Izuku, surprised.  “You didn’t opt out?”

“Opt out?” asked Uraraka.  “That was an option?”

“I mean, yes?” said Izuku.  “I mean, I had to file a bunch of paperwork and get Mom, All Might, and Principal Nezu to sign off on it, but, I mean, it’s an option for people who know secrets that shouldn’t be exposed.”  Like Iida.  What was he thinking?

“I… did not know that was an option,” said Iida, who had evidently now realized he was in deep, deep trouble. 

Izuku resolved to protect his friend’s secrets as best as he was able, even if it meant he didn’t get a good score in the training. 

“I didn’t think there was an opt-out option, either,” said Todoroki, frowning.  He reached towards his face but tugged on his hair instead of touching his scar.

Okay.  So.  “Am I- Am I the only one that asked?  L-like, it wasn’t easy, I had to get a bunch of signatures, but it was doable, I…”  He shrugged, helplessly. 

“I wasn’t informed there was an opt-out,” said Aizawa, grumpily and a little… suspiciously?

Izuku cringed.  He did not need his teacher to be suspicious of him.  He did not need people looking into his life.  Into his past.  Into his quirk. 

Maybe, if they couldn’t keep Iida’s and Todoroki’s secrets quiet, he could play his reluctance off as pertaining to those.  Even if the idea made him feel incredibly guilty and unworthy of his friends. 

He would just have to do his best to help them. 

Before any more conversations could be had, their group was called into one of the rooms.  A set of six cheap futons laid on the floor.  Monitoring equipment lined one of the walls.  Two commission personnel, a man and a woman, were waiting for them.

When the woman saw Izuku, she frowned and pulled her phone out of her pocket.  What was that about.

“Hi,” said the man, who had a rather hooked nose and very bright, almost glowing, yellow eyes.  “I’m Ito Kenzo, and I’ll be your instructor for today.  You can call me Ito-san.  This is Saito Yume, we’ll be using her quirk for today’s demonstration.”

The woman smiled brightly, putting away her phone quickly.  “The way my quirk works is that I can put up to five people into a shared dream state modeled after a sixth person’s mind.  All six people lose consciousness when I use my quirk, and the perception of time in the dream state is usually altered, although by how much varies depending on the group.  The dream state persists until either I release it, the people involved break free, or eight hours pass.  However, I’ll be making the rounds once an hour to pull everyone out and let you move on to the next person in the group.”

“I’ll be joining the dream state with you, to help point out tactics,” said Ito.  “Although the person the dreamscape is modeled on won’t be completely aware of what’s going on, the goal is to familiarize you with what it feels like to have your minds invaded in a safe, secure environment.  Saito-san’s quirk is similar enough to that of several known villains to be a good example of what to expect.”  Ito paused.  “Any questions?”

Uraraka raised her hand.  “Who’s going first?” she asked. 

“Ah, that would be—” He broke off as Saito tugged on his sleeve and showed him her phone.  The man did a double take, then paled, slightly.  He glanced at Izuku.  “Er,” he said, “you’re not supposed to be in this group.”

“Yes, I-I am,” said Izuku.  “This is- This is my number?  It matches?”

Ito glanced at Saito.  Then his phone rang.  “Oops,” he said, looking at his phone.  “It looks like I’m in the wrong group.  You kids are supposed to have Suzuki-san, I was, was requested by another group, so sorry!  He’ll be here in a minute!”  Ito retreated through the back door at high speed. 

Izuku swallowed.  Something was going on behind the scenes.  This wasn’t about the suspected traitor thing again, was it?  Izuku had thought, after the training camp, that it was pretty obvious it had to be a teacher…  And it couldn’t be Aizawa-sensei.  He’d almost been killed by the noumu. 

(Also, he was the best teacher Izuku had ever had.)

A new, much taller man walked through the door.  “Hello,” he said.  “I am Suzuki Takami.  I am your instructor.  Apologies for the mix up.”

“No worries!” said Saito.  “Everyone, go ahead, lie down, get comfortable.  Midoriya-san, you’re first!”

“What?” said Izuku.  “But, I, um, I opted out?  I filled in the paperwork and everything.  I got a signature from Abe-san, and Kondo-san, and, and—” He fumbled to pull out his paperwork.  He’d kept copies, just in case.

Saito and Suzuki didn’t so much as look at it. 

“This course doesn’t have an ‘opt-out,’” said Suzuki.

“Excuse me,” said Aizawa.  “He clearly has paperwork for an opt-out.  Maybe you were misinformed.  Like you were about the room.”

Suzuki shook his head.  “I don’t know who you talked to,” he said, “but they were either mistaken about what course you were referring to, or you misunderstood them.”

“But,” said Izuku. 

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, “if you want to sit this out, it’s fine.  I can go with you, so you won’t be alone.  No one’s going to make you subject yourself to a quirk you aren’t comfortable with.”

“He can do that,” said Suzuki, “but he’ll lose his provisional license.  He’d have to go through recertification entirely.  When’s the next licensing exam?”

“Hold up,” said Aizawa, “you’re doing this course two more times, aren’t you?  I know I was given multiple options for getting this certification.”

“Sure,” said Saito, “but it’s still going to be my quirk.”  She wrapped a strand of her hair around her finger, stressed. 

Izuku’s mind was racing.  He couldn’t lose his license.  He couldn’t lose his ability to help people.  He—What would All Might think?  He couldn’t—

“It-It’s-It’s fine, sen-sensei, I’m um.  It’s fine!  I’ll- I’d have to do this anyway, right? Mi-might as well get it over with, huh?”  He walked over to one of the futons, and set down his backpack, trying to hide his trembling hands.  “So, is-is there anything special or specific I have to do for your quirk to work?”

“Nope,” said Saito, cheerfully, “just lie down and close your eyes.  Come on, everyone lay down.”

Aizawa moved slowly, which was nothing short of shocking considering how eager he usually was to crawl into his sleeping bag.  He put the bag down on one of the futons.  “You’re sure there’s no way for Midoriya to opt out?”

“Positive.  We’re really sorry,” said Saito. 

“Illogical,” grumbled Aizawa.  He got into his sleeping bag nonetheless.  “You sure about this, problem child?”

“I-I’m sure, sensei!  Plus ultra, right?”  He laid down, trying to get comfortable, but the panic rising in his veins really didn’t allow for that.  He could, distantly feel One for All (and all it contained) pressing up against the back of his mind with something like concern.  He swallowed.  Don’t think about it. 

His classmates were, hesitantly, picking out their own spots.  Iida looked like he wanted to say something.  Uraraka’s brow was furrowed, her lips pursed.  Todoroki was difficult to read, as always. 

Suzuki was already lying down, staring at the ceiling.

Izuku closed his eyes. 

“Alright!” said Saito.  “Here we go!”

.

Yume left the room with Midoriya Izuku in it, feeling just slightly dazed.  She paused for a moment in the back hallway.  She had dozens of other groups to set off, and she was running late after that little snafu. 

Midoriya Izuku was supposed to be in a group with Suzuki-san and four other specially picked professional heroes.  Heroes who would get to the bottom of why and how he had multiple quirks, who would find out who he really was, who would figure out how he was in contact with the League of Villains and why they decided to pick some random quirkless nobody—

Assuming that’s what Midoriya Izuku really was.  The initial investigation had uncovered some discrepancies in his family records. 

In any case, he was not supposed to be in a group with his little friends and overprotective teacher. 

Oh, well.  Except for Midoriya, they were all clean.  If they were really heroes, they’d do what was right. 

Yume pushed off the wall (when had she started leaning on it?) and stumbled.  Something bright and red caught on the periphery of her vision and she looked down. 

Her nose was bleeding.

She licked her lips, tasting copper.  It shouldn’t be bleeding.  That only happened when she overused her quirk, when she tried to put too many people into one dreamscape or tried to combine two dreamscapes into one.  She’d been pacing herself.  This shouldn’t be happening.  It shouldn’t be bleeding like this, like she had just put more than a dozen people under.

Saito Yume promptly passed out. 

.

“Wow,” said Uraraka, looking around in delight.  She was still worried about Deku.  He’d looked really bad right before Saito-san activated her quirk, and she and Suzuki-san had been acting kind of shady, but—

But—

This place was beautiful, and she couldn’t help but be a little in awe.  She’d kind of expected dreamscapes to be more… Mushy, maybe?  Darker?  Her dreams usually weren’t very clear (except for the nightmares, and those didn’t count).

But Deku’s dreamscape was as bright as he was: a beautiful beach and a cerulean ocean at sunrise.  Or was it sunset?  Either way, the sun hovered above the ocean, its light gleaming off the waves. 

“Wow,” said Todoroki, approaching the breakers on the beach.  He crouched, looking at the sand.  “It’s really…”  he poked the sand, “detailed.”

“As expected of Midoriya!” exclaimed Iida, waving his hands.  “His attention to detail is unparalleled!” 

“Hm,” said Aizawa.  “Too bright…”  He put on his goggles. 

“Excuse me,” said Suzuki.  “If I can have your attention, please.  I apologize for the deception, however—”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Chapter Text

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Everyone turned to see Midoriya standing on the stairs to the beach, looking down at them.  None of them, least of all Shouto, had ever seen that expression on his face before.  That… flatness that almost rivaled his own. 

Uraraka took a step forward.  “Deku?” she asked, uncertainly.  Suzuki, the commission instructor, threw his arm in front of her, blocking her path.  

“Whatever that is,” he said, voice strained and low-pitched, “it isn’t Midoriya Izuku.  Saito’s quirk doesn’t allow for the subject to have an avatar in the dreamscape without a lot of practice.  There’s another quirk at work here.”

“You need to leave,” said Midoriya, descending a single step.  “Now.”

“It could be a result of his own quirk,” said Aizawa, who nonetheless had a hand on his capture weapon.  “He’s had odd reactions to mental quirks in the past.  Jumping to conclusions is illogical.”

“We have evidence Midoriya Izuku is working for the League of Villains,” said Suzuki, backing away from the stairs, slightly.  “By the rules laid out in the standard—”

Shouto tuned Suzuki out, by now quite convinced that the man had nothing particularly meaningful to say, in favor of examining Midoriya. 

It was Midoriya.  Just, a Midoriya that was annoyed, defensive, and maybe a little offended with just a touch of something else.  Which was a weird combination on Midoriya.  Especially as muted as it was.  Midoriya’s expressions, no matter what they were, were always so big. 

“—I am recruiting you to aid this investigation and determine the League of Villain’s plans!”

“If you don’t leave, I’ll make you leave,” growled Midoriya. 

Wow, for someone who was the embodiment of sunshine, he could be really threatening.  Then again, sunburns were a thing, so maybe it wasn’t too surprising. 

“You’re here against my will, after coercing me into allowing a quirk to be used on me.  I want you out.”

“Eraserhead, I suggest you restrain this projection, whoever it belongs to.”

“I’m not going to warn you again,” continued Midoriya.

“I suggest,” said Aizawa, “that you listen to him.  We can ask Midoriya about this when we’re all awake and not in his head.  Like you should have done in the beginning.”

Midoriya tilted his head slightly to one side. 

“I agree!  This is very unethical,” said Iida, chopping at the air.  “This is basically an interrogation, and Midoriya is a minor!  You need parental permission!”

“Which, before you start talking about him willingly participating in this course,” said Aizawa, “he has explicitly withdrawn.  Not to mention his mother signed those opt-out forms, so her permission is withdrawn as well.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“I am,” said Aizawa.  “Take us out.  This whole thing is illogical.”

“I can’t,” said Suzuki.  “Saito is the only one who can shut down her quirk prematurely.”

“What?” said Uraraka.  “There’s no way for you to contact her in an emergency?  That’s really dangerous!”

“That’s not what Saito Yume said, either,” said Midoriya, flatly.  “’The dream state persists until either I release it, the people involved break free, or eight hours pass.’  Implying that there’s another way to break free.  One that you, by necessity, must know.  So, leave.  Or I’m going to start to defend myself.”

Suzuki took a deep breath.  “I am here,” he said, “to complete a mission given to me from the Hero Commission.  Your refusal to comply with the terms set out in your licensing agreements will be noted.”

Midoriya brought his head up straight again and squared his shoulders.  His hands clenched.  He was wearing gloves, Shouto noticed.  Not the gloves that went with his hero costume, but work gloves.  He’d seen the landscapers who worked at his family home wear something similar. 

Why?

“Fine,” said Izuku.  “Then I’m going to kick you out.”

“That’s impossible, you—”

“I know this beach very well.”

Abruptly, the pristine white sand was covered in towers of trash, separating Shouto from the others.  Suzuki’s insistence that Midoriya was a spy had already had him on edge.  This put him fully into battle-mode. 

He dropped into battle stance, and carefully froze one of the trash piles in front of him, making an icy stair to the top.  His first priority was to find Aizawa and his classmates and regroup.  To do that, he had to get a better vantage point. 

He jogged up the stairs, noting, absently, that he was now in his hero suit, not his school uniform.  What had he been wearing before this turned into a fight?  He hadn’t particularly noticed. 

He reached the top just in time to see Midoriya bludgeon Suzuki with a piece of rusty rebar.

Alright.  Maybe that wasn’t Midoriya.

.

Aizawa wasn’t fast enough getting around the piles of trash.  He would have tried to scale them, but there was no safe place for him to grab on to.  The piles were simply too unstable, too untrustworthy, too poorly shaped. 

He arrived just in time to see Midoriya, or what looked like Midoriya, impale Suzuki with a pole. 

Before his mind could fully process the problem child attempting what looked a whole lot like murder, he had him wrapped in his capture weapon. 

Midoriya had the gall to look confused, if only slightly. 

“Todoroki,” Aizawa barked, spotting his other student on top of one of the horribly dangerous trash mounds.  “First aid, stat.”

“Yes, sir,” said Todoroki, making an ice ramp to glide down. 

“Midoriya,” he said.  “What was that?”  Perhaps it was illogical to ask, but he still couldn’t quite believe his eyes. 

“I was testing to see if he’d wake up and go away if he got knocked out,” said Midoriya.  He made a tiny, not-quite-shrugging motion.  “This is just a dream, after all.”

Alright.  That was true, but it was still incredibly disconcerting to see Midoriya act so callously towards the life of another human being.  Although he was unsure how many times Midoriya had hit Suzuki, and certain places of impact were less lethal than others, blunt force trauma, especially to the back of the head, could still be deadly. 

There was the sharp report of a gun, and Midoriya jerked forward, blood leaking from some invisible wound to drip down his face.  Then he vanished. 

He turned towards that utter bastard Suzuki, eyes blazing, only to find him entirely encased in a glacier except for his head. 

While Aizawa had been trying to train Todoroki out of reflexively encasing human beings in ice, due to frostbite, hypothermia, and other potential health issues, he was willing to let it slide.  Just this once. 

“I told you,” said Suzuki, teeth chattering.  “That isn’t your student.  And even if it was, he’s a traitor.”

“Sensei,” said Todoroki, “what are we going to do?”

“First,” said Aizawa.  He didn’t get beyond that, because Uraraka was abruptly launched from behind a wall of trash, trailing a makeshift tether of salvaged bungee cords. 

“Found them!” exclaimed Uraraka.  “I don’t see Deku, though!”

“First,” said Aizawa, feeling exhausted despite technically being asleep, “we regroup.”

.

Toshinori was supposed to be teaching a third-year heroics course. 

He wanted to be with Izuku at the Hero Commission training, even if he was retired, with only a retiree license to his name. 

He was in the nurse’s office, getting his brain checked by Recovery Girl, because sudden debilitating headaches weren’t on the long, long list of symptoms he’d come to expect from his injuries and medications. 

Chiyo was worried he might be having a stroke, an aneurism, or some other sudden, lethal, brain condition.  She’d used her quirk on him at once, and the pain hadn’t stopped.  She’d said that, at least, it should stop an aneurism from getting worse. 

Toshinori hoped it wasn’t brain cancer.  As far as personal abilities went, all he had going for him right now was brainpower and a stupidly high pain tolerance.

He closed his eyes against the bright lights of the room.  Everything seemed too bright and blurry.  Sounds warped oddly in his ears.  The fabric of the bed underneath him felt gritty against his fingertips. 

It was like he wasn’t entirely here. 

Oh, the joys of hallucinations.

(Something like urgency pushed against the back of his mind.  Whispered Eight, and help, and Nine.)

(Something was going more wrong than usual.)

He waited for Chiyo to step out of the room before he snuck out.

.

Izuku emerged from sleep with a choked gasp, heart racing, head spinning.  Where-?

It took him several fraught minutes to get his breathing under control and recognize where he was.  The room for the Hero Commission course.  His classmates and teacher were sleeping next to him, as well as the commission instructor.  What had his name been?  Something with an S?

Thinking was hard.  It was like his brain was occupied with something else and he kept having to nudge it back on track.  It was like—

He shook his head, which pounded with the movement, distracting him further.  He—He should—

What?

An odd sensation overtook him, and he found himself slowly, cautiously standing up.  It wasn’t like Shinsou’s quirk, where his body was out of his control, but more like he was almost sharing control, somehow.  Like he could, at any point, take control back.  And he did, just to test the theory, stopping for a moment, his hand halfway to his backpack. 

But that was hard, and he really wasn’t up for much in the way of decision-making, and the others were quite adamant that he had to get out now.  They’d know.  He trusted them. 

They picked up the backpack. 

Eight was coming.  They could trust Eight. 

The door slammed open.  Izuku froze.  Several heroes in costume and a man with a suit and a commission nametag stood in the doorway. 

“Get him!”

Four moved so differently from Izuku.  Precisely, like he knew exactly how his opponents were going to act, where they were going to be.  It reminded Izuku of how Sir Nighteye moved. 

In seconds, they were in the main hall, sprinting past crowds with the help of One for All.  Izuku felt bad about leaving Aizawa and his friends, but they knew, they weren’t targets.  Izuku was. 

Izuku didn’t know how they knew that, how he knew that. 

Parking lot.  Streets.  Alleyway.  Rooftops.  His UA uniform was too attention grabbing.  They dropped his blazer behind one of the rooftop ventilation shafts and tugged off his tie.  The button down by itself was less attention grabbing.  There was nothing they could to about his pants.  Alley again.  The people chasing him could track his phone.  They needed to get rid of it. 

Preferably in a way that wouldn’t immediately tip their pursuers off to the fact they had gotten rid of it.  Sending them the wrong way would be a good distraction, would buy them time. 

They slipped onto a bus and dropped Izuku’s phone into a woman’s purse.  Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice the change in weight for a while. 

Six and Two were very good at this kind of thing.  Not to mention One. 

It would probably sound weird to an outsider, but it was comforting.  The experience and care of the past users wrapped around him like a thick blanket, making it so that Izuku didn’t mind so much about his distraction, even though he wished he could help more. 

He got off the bus.  They needed to find Eight.

.

“Just so you know,” said Aizawa, several registers shy of conversationally.  “If you’ve harmed my student in any way, I will do everything in my power to make your life a living hell.”

“Nothing here actually affects the mind of the subject,” said Suzuki, rolling his eyes.  “Otherwise, we wouldn’t use Saito’s quirk.”

“Your information hasn’t exactly been accurate so far,” said Tenya, pushing his glasses up and frowning.  Suzuki had, in fact, been fundamentally unhelpful.  “In fact, I believe you have outright lied to us on several occasions.”  He glanced at his classmates for support and did a double take. 

Standing behind Uraraka, half-hidden behind a beaten-up old refrigerator, was Midoriya.  A smaller, slimmer, younger Midoriya, who was wearing an ‘ALL M’ t-shirt, thick gloves, and… and an awfully large amount of rope?

He was also crying, silently, and staring at Suzuki. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said.  He pulled on the rope.  The refrigerator came free, destabilizing the pile of trash it had been supporting. 

It all came tumbling down. 

.

Ochako managed to avoid most of the debris coming for her, and slapped most of the remainder, making them float with her quirk.  Even so, by the time the dust settled, she was covered in scrapes, the pink fabric of her hero suit torn—

Wait.  Hero suit?

Whatever, she was asleep, and the more important thing was to find Iida, Todoroki, and Aizawa-sensei.  They had been in the direct line of the collapse.  She was pretty sure Deku had been able to get out of the way. 

“Shouldn’t have done that.”

“Five-point touch activation.  Seems to affect buoyancy of objects.  Possible martial arts background based on movement.”

Ochako spun to face not one, but two small Dekus.  The new one was, if possible, even smaller than the first and wearing a gakuran.  He had a notebook spread out across his left arm and was writing in it at lightning speed. 

“Hands are a possible weak spot, but a known one.  Be careful of kicks.”  Gakuran Deku’s words devolved into mumbling, but t-shirt Deku was still nodding, so he must understand. 

T-shirt Deku also had a length of pipe.  Ochako did not like where this was going. 

Then again, the whole point of this exercise was to learn how to defend one’s mind.  She couldn’t exactly fault Deku for doing just that.  She dropped into a fighting stance and grinned. 

.

It was nothing short of a miracle, Aizawa decided, that they hadn’t been killed yet. Then again, it was possible that Midoriya, despite his obviously altered and disturbed mental state, was still holding back against them. 

Which was annoying.  Because neither of the two small Midoriya-lookalikes was particularly strong.  Nor did they appear to be using Midoriya’s quirk, despite the fact that Aizawa, Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki had no trouble using theirs.  The problem was that they were terrifyingly intelligent, just shy of ruthless, and had an incredible home-field advantage in that they seemed to know the location and nature of every bit of trash on the beach and in that they could evidently make it disappear and reappear at will.  They also avoided head-on combat whenever possible, letting the terrain do their work for them. 

Fighting them was, in fact, like fighting someone with a quirk completely unlike Midoriya’s.  With a fighting style completely unlike Midoriya’s.

And that made Aizawa wonder, because all too often, he caught Midoriya trying to replicate All Might’s style, and if he did that when he could be doing something more like this—

But this wasn’t the time for such speculation. 

He pulled Todoroki away from a trap again (he evidently hadn’t yet grasped that Midoriya was attacking them), and then jumped away from a chain reaction caused by whatever Uraraka just threw. 

Unless they wanted to spend the next hour being beaten up by the problem child… “We need to get somewhere he has less control over the environment.”

“Off the beach?” suggested Uraraka, panting.  “He said—He said he knew the beach well, so…”

Aizawa nodded.  That was good thinking.  Where were the stairs?

“You need to leave!” 

“We’re trying, problem child!” snapped Aizawa, and, miraculously, that made Midoriya hesitate.  Aizawa pulled Todoroki towards the stairs.   The others were able to follow on their own. 

They made their way up, and as soon as they hit the top step the previously clear sky opened up and it began to pour.  Aizawa was soaked through in seconds. 

Wonderful. 

However, the attacks—which had been relentless up until this point—stopped.

“We left Suzuki,” observed Iida. 

Aizawa held back a groan. 

“Who cares?” asked Todoroki. 

“We do,” said Aizawa.  “We can’t let him run around unsupervised in Midoriya’s head.”

“I think he might have gotten crushed,” said Uraraka.  “He was still in your ice, wasn’t he, Todoroki?”

“Yeah,” said Todoroki.  “Trash should stay with trash,” he mumbled under his breath. 

“We have no idea how any of our quirks will function long-term in a dream,” said Aizawa, not addressing the trash comment because he honestly sort of agreed.  “Nor do we know what his quirk is.”  He sighed.  “We may also have to consider that he is correct and Midoriya is compromised.”

Predictably, there was quite a bit of protest. 

“He may also have other information regarding the situation at hand,” said Aizawa.  “Which we need.”

There was a rattle among the trash heaps, and Aizawa turned to watch Suzuki drag himself out from under a mound of trash. 

“You left me!” accused Suzuki, loudly.  “You almost let that gremlin kill me a dozen times!”

“Well,” said Midoriya from behind them, where he absolutely hadn’t been a minute ago, “then maybe you should have left when I asked."

Chapter Text

“A mind affecting quirk?” asked the secretary.  “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” said Recovery Girl, grimly.  “If I had realized, I would never have left him alone while I reviewed the scans.  I thought it was something physical.  By the time we locked the campus down, he was already gone.”

The secretary found herself shaking, slightly.  Even retired, even barely able to use his quirk, the idea of All Might under mind control, under a villain’s control, was terrifying. 

“I’m going to put you through to the chairman,” she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.  “I’m sure he’ll mobilize every available resource.”  She pressed the button and sagged in her chair glad she didn’t have to make real decisions. 

Then the calls from the people in charge of the Musutafu mental-invasion training activity started rolling in.  As she answered the phone, she couldn’t help but think that All Might probably would have benefited from the training. 

.

Of all the things Tsuyu had expected to see while waiting to be directed to her room for testing, Midoriya fleeing from a group of heroes was not one of them. 

True, Midoriya had yet to come out of a class trip or event without some kind of trauma, but she’d been expecting villains to be the cause.  Not… whatever this was. 

Kaminari and Aoyama, started forward, only to be held back by Shouji, who just barely managed to catch his phone (he’d been playing a Pokémon game with Kouda).

“Hey!” said Kaminari.  “What gives, man?  Midoriya is in trouble.”

“Yes,” said Shouji, quietly, the lips on his extra arm barely moving, “and look at who he’s in trouble with.”

“We can’t just go barreling in,” agreed Tsuyu.  “We need to find the rest of the class and get out of here.”

After all, if one member of 1-A was in trouble, they all were. 

Aoyama placed his pointer finger and his thumb over his chin.  “I have a better idea,” he said, “what do you say to a ~*sparkling*~ distraction to help our friend—and us—escape?”

Tsuyu followed his gaze and swallowed a sigh. 

People should really stop leaving electrical boxes out in the open like that.  It was basically a signed invitation.

(Izuku did not notice the power outage that occurred a mere fraction of a second after he burst out of the center’s doors, but if he did, he would have been grateful for the chaos it caused and the precious time it bought him.)

.

“That’s the room they were in,” said Fumikage, Dark Shadow screening him and the rest of his group from view.  “I believe that Hagakure was—” he hesitated “—there,” he said, finally. 

“Are you sure we should go after them?” asked Mineta.  “I mean, it’s Aizawa-sensei and the top of the class!”

“Since Midoriya is the only one who came out,” Yaoyorozu, coolly, “it’s probable that they’re either asleep or heavily outnumbered.  Especially considering how out of character it is for Midoriya to leave them behind.”

“Unless he was targeted and was trying to draw them away,” said Satou. 

They considered that silently for a moment.

“Bakugou’s group was in that room,” said Jirou, pointing with ear jack.  “They’ll definitely be asleep by now.  Not to back away from a fight, but if we really think our class is in danger, we should get them out first, of only because they’re probably not at the center of this.”

“Hmm,” said Tokoyami.  “The fate of Bakugou, much like Midoriya, is often shouded in darkness.”

“I hate that you have a point,” groaned Jirou.  “Yaomomo?  You’re kind of in charge here.  I think it’s your call.”

Yaoyorozu made a rather pained looking face.

“We need to find everyone who hasn’t gone into a room yet, and we need to gather information,” she said.  “Maybe this is just a misunderstanding.”

Fumikage, for one, rather doubted it. 

.

This Deku was different again.  Older than the ones they had seen so far.

He was wearing the same clothes he’d had on when Shigaraki grabbed him at the mall, including that ridiculous ‘t-shirt’ t-shirt and the bright yellow backpack.  Ochako swallowed uneasily and looked back at Suzuki. 

Did Deku’s appearance reflect his understanding of the situation?  Did he think that what was going on now was like what had happened then?

Was he right?

(A part of her, a part that was very used to Aizawa’s logical ruses, was still hoping this was part of the course.)

“We already have proof you’re the traitor,” wheezed Suzuki.  Despite sustaining so many wounds, beyond being out of breath he was currently unharmed.  Even his suit only had a few streaks of dirt on them.

“Deku’s not a traitor!” shouted Ochako.  “He’s risked his life for so many of us, he’s hurt himself so much-!  It’s ridiculous you could even think that.” 

Alright.  Perhaps the fight and general situation had Ochako more on edge than she’d thought. 

Or, perhaps, she was just tired of this jerk badmouthing one of her best friends. 

“I think,” said Aizawa, splitting his attention between Suzuki and the new Deku, “that anyone who actually knew Midoriya would tell you the same thing.  Assuming you asked.”

“What are you really here for?” asked Deku.  “Are you really working for the Commission?”

Suzuki wrinkled his nose momentarily, apparently affronted, but then started to laugh.  “You think we didn’t?  They came to us.  Aldera Middle School ring any bells?  Why don’t you tell your new friends you used to be—”

He cut off as Deku moved past them, smoothly dodging Aizawa-sensei, and performing a textbook-perfect takedown of Suzuki, complete with handcuffs and avoidance of Suzuki’s skin. 

(What was Suzuki’s quirk, anyway?)

“Wish I could have done this back then,” muttered Deku, hauling Suzuki around.  “What is your problem?”

“You can’t hurt me here,” said Suzuki.  “Are you scared of the truth?”

Aizawa pulled Deku away from Suzuki. 

“Midoriya,” he said.  “You are Midoriya, right?”

“I…”  Deku’s face scrunched up.  “I think so?  It—I think it’s more complicated than it should be.”

Ochako saw Suzuki get up before Aizawa did, and leaped forward, aiming for his face.  She missed.  Suzuki’s fingers brushed against Deku’s cheek and the world shredded around them. 

.

Aizawa had known going into this that a dream world would be, almost by definition, illogical and annoying.  He had simply underestimated how illogical and annoying. 

Oh, the fight with maybe-Midoriya was straightforward enough, even factoring in his control of the environment.  But the aftermath was another story. 

Aizawa knew he’d been hit.  He’d been hit, solidly, several times.  Yet, he didn’t feel so much as bruised.  He was also, for some unidentifiable reason, wearing a suit, and his students, except for Midoriya, who had disappeared yet again, had been put in unfamiliar school uniforms. 

Speaking of which, they were now standing in front of a middle school, the beach nowhere in sight. 

Adding that to the fact that at least some items (e.g., Midoriya’s handcuffs) seemed to disappear when no one was paying attention to them… 

Aizawa’s headache was rapidly growing.  Not to mention—

“He practically admitted he wasn’t Midoriya!  What more do you want?” demanded Suzuki, who seemed to be ignoring the fact that he was being stared down by three hostile, combat-trained teenagers. 

“I want,” said Aizawa, “to wait out the clock.  Midoriya isn’t attacking us anymore, and I don’t particularly feel the need to snoop around in his head.”

Suzuki’s eye twitched.  “Saito isn’t waking us up until the end of the course, a full six hours from now,” he said.  “You want to have this stand-off for six hours, or do you want to find something that will help you protect the rest of your little gremlin students?”

“What do you mean, until the end of the course?” demanded Iida, adjusting his glasses.  “She’s supposed to let us out in an hour!”

Aizawa sighed, but kept his gaze fixed on Suzuki.  Iida could be a little too fixated on rules sometimes. 

“So?  No one will miss you until the lunch break, and that can be easily covered up!”

.

“We should call the school, too,” decided Momo.  “I think Principal Nezu likes Midoriya.”

“Huh?  Really?” asked Satou, surprised.

Momo nodded.  “Whenever Midoriya is brought up at student council meetings, he sort of… chuckles.  He does that with Aizawa-sensei, too, come to think of it.  And All Might.”

“That’s terrifying,” said Mineta. 

No one said anything, because they didn’t really want to agree with Mineta, even about something so mundane. 

.

Sirens, from an ambulance called for Saito Yume, were just audible in the distance. 

Somewhat farther away, the principal of UA realized that calling the Hero Commission about Yagi’s disappearance might have been a tactical error. 

In the Hero Commission headquarters, the chairman determined that, no, this was not going to be covered up easily, and started making alternate plans. 

.

“Then we’ll wait for the whole six hours,” said Aizawa.  “Consider it endurance training,” he told his students, “for stakeouts and whatever.”

“And whatever?” asked Todoroki. 

“If you have to deal with this nonsense now,” said Aizawa, “as students, it’s only going to get worse when you’re pros.”

“Ah,” said Todoroki, nodding sagely.  “I see.”

“Look, if you’re all so sure he has nothing to hide, what’s the harm in looking?”

“Kids,” said Aizawa, cutting off whatever responses the three of them were about to snap out, “don’t engage him.”  This was going to be a very long six hours.  Or five hours.  It had to have been at least one hour since they went under.  Right?  It had to be, if the universe was fair. 

Oh, who was he kidding?

Suzuki sighed, closed his eyes, and straightened his tie.  “I apologize,” he said.  “The appearance of that… projection unsettled me, and I have not fully explained why the Hero Commission has decided to act as it has in the case of Midoriya Izuku.”

“Who cares?” asked Todoroki.  “The commission sucks.”

Undeterred, Suzuki continued.  “I’m sure you have all noticed that Midoriya Izuku displays two quirks.”

“So do I and Aizawa-sensei,” said Todoroki.

“I what?” asked Aizawa. 

“Your floaty hair thing.”

“That’s just an emitter effect,” said Aizawa.

“But it works on your capture weapon,” said Todoroki.  “Midoriya showed me a diagram, once.  It was very convincing.  He said not to bring it up though, because you were probably hiding it from… villains… oh…”  He trailed off as he looked back at Suzuki. 

This was not, Aizawa reminded himself sternly, the time to have an existential crisis. 

He was having a talk with Midoriya when he got out of this.

“A secondary quirk that he only discovered in high school?  You must see how far fetched this is.  Not to mention his first quirk only—”

The ground rumbled.  Abruptly, they were surrounded by bright, approximately human-shaped blurs of color.  Because why not?  

Among those blurs of color ran tiny middle school Midoriya, because, again, why not?

Using the distraction, and something that had to be related to either a quirk or Suzuki’s greater experience with Saito’s quirk, Suzuki escaped their little circle and ran after Midoriya.  Aizawa’s students and, thus, Aizawa followed.

.

“Come again?” asked Vlad King, rubbing the inside of his ear.  “I think I must have misheard you.”

“Yagi stole your car,” repeated Powerloader, sounding completely done with the world.

Vlad, still uncomprehending, blinked up at his coworker.  “Is there, like, a student called Yagi?” he asked, trying to process the diametrically opposed concepts of ‘Yagi’ and ‘stole’ before even getting started on the ‘your car’ part of the sentence. 

“No.”

With despair, his mind finally registering that the Symbol of Peace had stolen his car, Vlad said, “But he doesn’t even drive!”

.

Vlad King’s car was, objectively, rather terrible.  It was an antique, almost a hundred and fifty years old, manufactured when regulations were loose in the wake of the dawn of quirks.  It was loud.  It was ugly.  The gas efficiency wasn’t terrible, but it came at the cost of high emissions.  The air conditioner was broken.  It had no back up camera. 

It had three things going for it.  One, it had a functional safety system.  Two, the ceiling was high enough for Toshinori to fit.  Three, it had no GPS or tracking system attached to it. 

True, the vehicle’s other features meant that the car would be remembered and tracked sooner or later, but the point of this exercise was to get to Izuku as quickly as possible and then away from his pursuers as quickly as possible.  They’d leave the car somewhere after that.  Perhaps with the keys still in it.  Perhaps somewhere disreputable. 

… That would be rather mean to Vlad. 

Eh, thought someone who may or may not have been Toshinori.  They were doing him a favor, honestly.

(It was a good thing Six knew how to drive.  Seven and Five with their fancy mobility-oriented quirks were useless.  Don’t even get him started on Mr. ‘I’m going to live in the woods and isolate myself from society’ and Ms. ‘driving laws can’t have changed that much in a hundred and fifty years.’  Unbelievable.)

Toshinori stopped the car.  The back door opened and Izuku slid in.  He shut the door and Toshinori started driving again. 

They didn’t speak to one another because they didn’t have to.  Izuku started undressing, pulling on the clothes Toshinori had picked up for him quickly.  Hero merchandise, mostly.  Bright but anonymous.  Few would expect fugitives to wear something like this. 

“It’s soft,” said Izuku, quietly, rubbing the edge of the hoody between his fingers. 

“I’m glad you like it,” said Toshinori.  In the rearview mirror, Toshinori could see Blackwhip twine around his hands and wrists protectively.  His headache let up, slightly. 

They’d hide until the quirk wore off, and then they could determine their next steps. 

.

The commission president smiled at the heroes he had assembled.  It was a nice smile, an expressive smile, one he had worked on for a long time.  Right now, it said that he regretted the circumstances that brought them together, but that their presence cheered him, nonetheless.  It said that he was putting on a brave front while delivering grim news. 

It had the desired effect.  The heroes leaned forward, with the exception of Hawks.  (Damn that truculent child.  Perhaps he was due for some retraining.)

“I regret to inform you all that former number one hero All Might, also known as Yagi Toshinori, has been abducted by the traitor Midoriya Izuku through the use of a mental quirk we believe he obtained from the villain All for One, publicly known as the Scourge of Kamino.”

.

Toshinori and Izuku had spoken to one another concerning hiding places and rendezvous points on several occasions.  It was a necessity when engaged in a shadow war with a two-hundred-year-old monster and continued to be so even after the war had come into the light. 

Toshinori currently owned most of them, through various serpentine paths, shell corporations, and semi-fictitious holding companies.  One could potentially, in theory, with great effort, reach Toshinori if one started with one of the hiding places and follow the horribly convoluted paper trail, but it was infinitely more difficult to start with Toshinori and arrive at one of the safe houses.  Mainly because Toshinori had so many completely legitimate holdings. 

Some of these places were older than they were, inherited, much like their quirk.  And the very oldest of these technically wasn’t ‘owned’ by anyone at all.  It didn’t exist on paper.  It had been made by an unregistered quirk during the dawn of quirks, when the government was in shambles.  Only two living people knew about it now.  Even All for One had never found the place. 

“We’ll be safe here,” said Toshinori, unnecessarily, as he opened the door.  The hinges were silent.  Toshinori had oiled them the last time he had restocked the pantry. 

Izuku nodded, then yawned.  Everything about today had been exhausting, and his brain still wasn’t working right. 

But was it really okay for him to sleep, to rest, when he had left his friends behind?

Why had he even done that?

Could he even call himself a friend when-?

Toshinori put his hand on Izuku’s shoulder, and Izuku felt his concern soak into his bones.  The others were with him.  Uraraka, Todoroki, Iida, and Aizawa were not in danger, they reminded him.  Izuku (Nine) was.  The others were in good standing with the commission, more or less, and would likely remain so.  For all Suzuki’s posturing, it appeared he had no real evidence against Izuku’s friends, otherwise he would have used it for blackmail by now. 

Besides, Izuku wasn’t really the one to make the decision to run. 

Izuku frowned.  Was he?  Wasn’t he?

There was a bed in the little hidden house.  Toshinori pulled a set of sheets out of a small cabinet and began to make it.  Izuku retrieved and fluffed the pillows.  It was interesting.  He’d never actually been here before.  Toshinori had only told him how to get here, and yet…

But the others had been here.  One and Two, mostly, but Three had come a few times, and Four had gotten a lot of use out of it before he left the city entirely.  Five hadn’t really needed it—he’d been a pro hero, after all—but he’d kept the place up, just in case, and passed it on to Six when it was time.  Six had been underground and had kept this place his ace in the hole, his last fallback.  Seven had learned of it from his notes since he hadn’t lived long enough to tell her properly.  So much had been lost…

Izuku shook his head and focused on the bed.  Wordlessly, he was coaxed into it.  It would be better to sleep, for now.  His attention wouldn’t be divided, and Toshinori would keep him safe.

.

“Trace,” said the commission president, looking at the second-youngest hero present.  The woman was just a little bit older than Hawks.  “With your quirk, I think you know why we called you in.”

The woman, who usually worked as a rescue hero, nodded enthusiastically.  “Yes, sir,” she said.  “I’ll need something of either Midoriya’s or All Might’s, and their last known location.  We’ll be able to rescue All Might in no time!”

Chapter Text

There was something wrong with the school.  Other than it being entirely within Midoriya’s head.  It was… ominous.  Foreboding.  The way the walls joined together was wrong.  The colors on the posters clashed.  The incomprehensible background noise made by the bright blurs was jeering, mocking. 

It reminded Aizawa too much of his old school, the one he went to before UA.  Of the looks and the hate he got just because his quirk frightened people. 

But Midoriya had a straightforward physical quirk.  Correction: he appeared to have a straightforward physical quirk.  Even if he’d had the bone breaking problem, he shouldn’t have experienced anything like that.

Aizawa was shoved, hard, from behind, and that shouldn’t have knocked him off balance, but it did.  He tumbled, painfully, to the ground.  There hadn’t been anyone there to push him. 

Except the blurs. 

He cursed inwardly.  He had been too fast to dismiss them, he realized, as cruel laughter rose up around them. 

“They can touch us,” said Aizawa.  “Be careful.”

“Yes, sir!” said Iida, sporting a black eye already.  “I apologize for my inattention.”

More laughter.  An older, but still indistinct voice rose above the sound, along with a taller blur.  A teacher.  The condescension in the tone made Aizawa’s teeth hurt. 

He caught sight of Suzuki ahead.  “Come on,” he said. 

“Let me try something, sensei,” said Todoroki.  He raised his arm, and ice filled the hallway, pushing out to either side. 

The blurs ignored it.  The jeering increased in volume.  Aizawa could make out individual words, now, like ‘useless’ and ‘freak.’

“Good thought, Todoroki,” said Aizawa.  He tried not to let his trepidation show.  He had a feeling this was going to be difficult. 

The children looked at him in horror. 

“Sensei,” said Iida, “you’re being… encouraging?”

“Just follow them,” said Aizawa, pointing.  He wanted hazard pay for this nonsense.

“Yes, sir!” said Iida, zooming off.  He was immediately tripped again. 

Luckily, Suzuki didn’t seem to be having much more luck.  The blurs, which Aizawa guessed were somehow Midoriya’s memories of his former classmates, were just as violent with him.  Aizawa couldn’t see Midoriya anymore. 

Laughter.  One of the blurs scratched at Aizawa’s side and murmured tauntingly.  They passed a nurse’s office where nothing but cold words and cold winds emerged.  The hallways smelled like smoke and sugar and things that had to be related to quirks. 

There was a loud ring overhead, and the blurs abruptly vanished.  Despite the burns Aizawa had suffered (when?) he forced himself to speed up.

He almost caught Suzuki before he entered the classroom.

Iida slipped on the tile floor, hitting him from behind, and all of them skidded into the classroom as a tangled mess.  Aizawa hadn’t been this clumsy since he was in middle school.  What was going on?

Midoriya was sitting at a desk, hunched over and muttering.  The desk was, to put it nicely, ruined.  Even from Aizawa’s current perspective, he could make out some truly hateful things carved into the wood and metal. 

Aizawa dearly hoped that this was exaggerated.  Even so, he was going to seriously talk to Midoriya about therapy and taking legal action against this hellhole. 

“What are you hiding?” asked Suzuki, roughly. 

*

The classroom exploded into sound, blurs at the desks solidifying into outlines, into ghosts. 

You’re also applying to UA, aren’t you, Midoriya?

Midoriya froze and buried his head in his arms.  Aizawa, halfway up with the intent to stop whatever this was, felt himself freeze as well. 

This mindscape affected him far too much for his peace of mind. 

The ghosts laughed, long and hard and cruel, the teacher did nothing to stop it. 

Then Bakugou’s shade exploded.  Literally.  The smaller Midoriya barely had time to throw himself back, away from the blast.  Midoriya’s reflexes had much improved since middle school, but, honestly, even this much was impressive for someone of his age. 

Come on, Deku!  Forget the crappy quirks, you’re totally quirkless!

… What?

Aizawa missed the next several sentences as his mind whirred, trying to comprehend what he just heard.  But then another explosion brought him back, and Bakugou’s next words were completely unmissable. 

If you think you’ll have a quirk in your next life… go take a swan dive off the roof!

Just like that, whatever was holding them in place broke, the ghosts fading away entirely, leaving the classroom completely empty except for them and Midoriya. 

Midoriya who was shaking, fists clenched, tears running down his face. 

“Are you happy now?” he demanded.  “Are you happy?  Why couldn’t you just let me-?  Me being quirkless in middle school isn’t hurting anyone!”  He took several deep but uneven breaths, his shoulders trembling. 

Uraraka stepped forward, and Midoriya flinched. 

“Izuku?” she said, hesitantly. 

Midoriya looked up, his expression guarded. 

“The first thing I’m going to do when we get out of here is punch Bakugou.”  She said it cheerfully, one hand in a fist. 

Midoriya gaped, but some of the oppressive, terrified, atmosphere dissipated. 

Aizawa sighed to himself.  Now that the immediate danger seemed to be over, he moved closer to Midoriya.  He wasn’t sure if it was even possible to comfort a memory or a fragment or figment or whatever this was, but he wanted to be between Midoriya and Suzuki.  Especially given that Suzuki seemed to be able to manipulate the environment to some extent. 

“Plus ultra,” agreed Todoroki.

“Uraraka!  Todoroki!” gasped Iida, scandalized.  “You can’t just punch a classmate outside of school supervised sparring!”

“I love you Iida, but you’re a bit of a hypocrite sometimes,” said Uraraka.  “Especially considering, uh…”  She gestured vaguely at Iida’s hands and then Midoriya’s face.

Iida turned a very funny color, then looked down at his hands.  “Oh my god, you’re right…”  He whispered, horrified.  “What have I become?”

“Besides,” said Todoroki, “Aizawa is like, right here.”  He gestured at Aizawa.  “We can ask him if we can—”

“No,” interrupted Suzuki, “that can’t be it!  Show me what you’re hiding!”  He started forward only to be jumped by three extremely annoyed hero students.  Just to be safe, Aizawa activated his quirk and kept it trained on the man. 

“Mind the gun!” reminded Iida. 

Ah, yes.  The gun.  Which the man may or may not have recovered at any point due to the impermanent nature of everything here.  Lovely.

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, “he’s after you.  Get out of here.”

“Yes,” said Midoriya.  “Sorry, sensei.”  He bobbed in an incomplete bow and turned to the door. 

And there was that stupid gun. 

Aizawa wished he had his capture weapon back. 

“What are you keeping secret?” demanded Suzuki, his voice echoing somewhat. 

Midoriya clutched his head and screamed, falling to his knees.  His body vanished entirely, but the sound remained, somehow. 

The classroom fell apart. 

.

Very briefly, Tenya recognized Hosu.  The smoke, the alley, the distant, indistinct cries of Manual.  It wasn’t the alley where he’d found Stain standing over Native, however.  This was… this was Midoriya’s perspective. 

The scene shifted again, rapidly.  They were now in the entrance tunnel to the sports festival arena.  The air smelled of smoke.  Todoroki startled, but—

It fell away.  A hallway in UA, the smell of coffee.  Then, one of the soundproofed conference rooms, papers on a table, the writing all blacked out.  Suzuki lunged for them, Aizawa punched him in the face. 

Another shift, a dilapidated apartment with footprints on the walls and ceilings.  A microwave hummed in the background.  As soon as it dinged, they were elsewhere again. 

Back on the beach.  The light was different.  A single car still remained and—

They were on a rooftop. 

The wind blew mournfully. 

Midoriya was standing at the edge, uniform in disarray, a burnt notebook clutched in one hand. 

“Stop it!” he shouted, almost doubled over.  “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

Tenya took a step forward before he could fully assess the situation.  If he tried to grab Midoriya now…  There was a good chance he’d go right over the edge. 

“There it is!  That smile of his is just a mask—”

“Of course, it’s a mask, you idiot!” exclaimed Midoriya, angrily. 

Angrily. 

Midoriya rarely got angry. 

“I am clinically depressed, and I have anxiety!  That doesn’t make me a villain.  Are you stupid?  Are you on drugs?  Is the whole commission on drugs?  All Might’s smile was a mask ninety percent of the time!  And don’t you dare try to tell me that Hawks’ smile isn’t a mask.  Do you do this to him, too, you sicko?”

Suzuki had gone very stiff.  “How do you know about that?”

“Because I have functioning eyes, unlike virtually everyone else, apparently.  What is wrong with you?”

“You,” said Suzuki, “are in no position to ask questions.  What are you hiding here?”

“You really want to know?  Do you?  Do you?  Huh?”

“Midoriya—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, I can’t take this anymore, this is so stupid.”

This Midoriya was… also not quite right, it seemed.  Beyond age. 

“You want to know why this place is a secret?  Fine.  Fine!”  He threw his hands on the air.  “This is the first and last place I seriously considered suicide.  Happy?”  The last was said with such an incredible amount of venom that everyone took a step away from Midoriya. 

“Suicide?” said Tenya out loud, unable to stop himself. 

“I didn’t want to—Hero courses filter stuff like that out!  If they think you’re going to be a liability!”  He was breathing heavily.  “Are you happy now?  You have my- my deep, dark secrets!  You know what- what I was like before, and—”

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, gently, “it’s fine.  UA doesn’t filter for that.  All you would have to do is attend extra counseling.”

“Really?” said Midoriya. 

*

“That can’t be it,” said Suzuki.  “You…” He whipped his head around.  “There was someone else here.  Who stopped you?  Was this where All for One recruited you?”

“What is wrong with you?” demanded Tenya, activating his quirk long enough to skid to a halt right in front of Suzuki. 

Suzuki looked past him as if he weren’t even there.  “Who was with you?”

A faint breeze picked up.  Without power, can one become a hero?  No, I should think not…

“All Might?” said Uraraka. 

“All Might?!” repeated Suzuki incredulously.

The scene changed in a blink.  They were in a pedestrian tunnel. 

Midoriya, as disheveled and tiny as he was on the roof, leaned up against the wall, clearly wary of them in general and Suzuki in particular. 

First contact… whispered a voice that dragged across Tenya’s mind like the end of a silk curtain. 

“First contact?” said Suzuki.  “What is that supposed to-?”

“Hey!” 

They turned to see a figure standing beyond the tunnel’s mouth, in the sunlight.  They were tall and slender, perhaps as tall as Tenya, and wearing a hoody and disposable medical mask.  The voice sounded oddly familiar, but Tenya couldn’t place it.  It sounded like the owner was about their age. 

“Ha!” said Suzuki.  “This guy definitely isn’t Midoriya!  You have to admit-!”

“Are these guys bothering you?” asked the boy in the hoody. 

“Yes,” said Midoriya. 

“Well, don’t worry now!  Because I am here!”

“Are you… a vigilante?” guessed Tenya as the unknown boy stepped into the tunnel.  Many of them had an appreciation for All Might. 

“Sure!” said the boy, cheerfully. 

“Mutation-based speed enhancement,” muttered Izuku, sliding across the wall towards the boy.  “Fire and ice user.  Five-point activation mass alteration.  Quirk negation with secondary minor telekinesis.  Some kind of thought or memory manipulation, possibly a form of telempathy that allows him to alter the local environment as a side effect.  May have a truth-detection component.”

A thread of ice wound down Tenya’s back.  Even if he didn’t believe that Midoriya was a traitor, that he was giving information about them so freely to this stranger, as if they were enemies, was chilling…  Even if it did evolve that this was just a figment of his imagination…

“Ha!  It’ll take more than that to get rid of me!” said the vigilante, pointing a thumb at his chest. 

If Tenya wasn’t mistaken, however, there was a bit of a wobble in his voice. 

“Mass alteration can act like freefall.  No conscious control of how much mass is altered, can only reduce mass,” continued Midoriya, now hiding behind the taller boy.  “Ceiling of absolute temperature alteration from average is lower for fire than for ice.  Speed enhancement can be used to power kicks.  Mind the capture weapon.  Scarf.”

“Gotcha!”

The vigilante lunged for Suzuki and threw him bodily into Aizawa.  While the adults were recovering, the students moved to flank the stranger.  He attempted to throw Uraraka in the same way, but she got him with her quirk and he floated towards the ceiling, which he kicked off, enough power in the movement to clock Todoroki in the jaw. 

Tenya attempted to apply a kick at the vigilante’s exposed but still-floating back, but was nearly stabbed in the eye with a pencil by Midoriya. 

“Sorry,” said Midoriya, breathlessly.  “Sorry.  I didn’t do this for real.  I thought about it.  But I didn’t.  Sorry.”

“You thought about stabbing me in the eye?”

“No.  Muscular.  The sludge villain.  I thought—Maybe I should have.”  His muttering rapidly became unintelligible.

Tenya was distracted enough by the muttering that he took a second longer than he should have to react to Midoriya going after his bad shoulder.  The tip of the pencil dug right into it. 

“Sorry, sorry, this is a dream, I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

“Disengage!” shouted Aizawa.  “There’s no point in fighting these guys!”

“The hell there isn’t!” said Suzuki.

“Dissension among the ranks, eh, villains?” asked the vigilante. 

“Hey!” complained Uraraka.  “Don’t lump us in with him!”

The vigilante, somehow, got a hold of Aizawa again.  Despite his young appearance, he had a lot more skill than Iida, or even Midoriya. 

Aizawa managed to get a blow across the boy’s face, knuckles knocking his hood and mask askew, and—

He would recognize that smile anywhere.  Even if it wasn’t paired with the floppy bangs they had all come to know. 

“All Might?!”

.

Toshinori tried to ignore his growing headache as he laid out supplies.  Izuku was sleeping, and they were safe for now, but it would be foolish of them to assume that the Hero Commission would just let Izuku disappear.  The infinite variety of quirks in the world all but guaranteed someone with a tracking quirk would be after them, and soon. 

Thus, it behooved them to disguise themselves.   

In this day and age, the easiest way to do that was to make it look like you had a quirk other than your own.  The bulky coat he had selected included a high collar and an apparatus that covered everything below the eyes, suggesting a disturbing or difficult-to-control mutation.   Of course, he’d also have to wear sunglasses.  His eyes were unfortunately distinctive.  The hair would have to go, too. 

For Izuku, though, he couldn’t stand the thought of completely cutting his hair off—it would look strange in someone so young, anyway—so instead he had retrieved the hair bleach.  White hair, combined with a suit and properly worn tie, would make him appear older.  Lifts in his shoes would add to that impression. 

The computer pinged.  Toshinori went to it and made a face.  He wasn’t technologically inclined at all, but Six was and had been a different story.  The computer was old, but Six was very good, and large organizations only rarely changed their protocols. 

The commission had their tracker, a young rescue hero named Trace.  She was on her way to UA.  The details of her quirk…  Yes.  They could potentially even keep her away from the safehouse, if they took the opportunity to cross their paths…  But they would have to start preparing to leave now. 

Izuku woke with a gasp and an anguished cry.  The pain in it was echoed by a spike in Toshinori’s headache.

Toshinori rushed to the room.  “What’s wrong, my boy?”

“They’re not in my head anymore,” said Izuku, knotting his fingers in his hair. 

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” asked Toshinori, even as he knew it wasn’t.

Izuku shook his head.  “They’re not in my head anymore.  They’re in yours.”

Chapter Text

Toshinori found himself thinking about his brief and extremely ill-advised time as a quirkless vigilante.  He had a sinking suspicion that it because of his uninvited mental guests, but he couldn’t exactly do anything about that.  Between the two of them, Izuku had always been better at the mental portion of their quirk. 

He finished washing the bleach out of Izuku’s hair and couldn’t help but wonder if Izuku had ever contemplated going down that path.  It had been cruel, and knowing what he did now, he would never repeat it, but his speech to Izuku on that rooftop had been intended to keep him from making the same mistakes Toshinori had in his youth. 

If Nana hadn’t picked him up…  he shuddered to think what would have become of him.  He’d certainly been in over his head, hitting far above his weight class. 

Although, to be honest, they weren’t in a good position right now, either. 

“I’m sorry,” said Izuku, softly. 

“It isn’t your fault,” said Toshinori. 

“But I couldn’t make him leave.  And now he’s going after your secrets.”

“My boy, they sent a highly skilled infiltrator into your mind.”  Toshinori was not entirely sure how he knew this, but it felt correct.  “You don’t have the training to combat that.  What you have done is remarkable.”  He toweled off Izuku’s hair.  The damp and the product had conspired to make it less fluffy than usual.  “The last you told me, you couldn’t even manifest fully in that place.”

“I tried to distract them,” said Izuku, miserably.  “It didn’t work.  It—He’s still there.”

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” said Toshinori.  “Other than One for All, I don’t have any secrets worth all these tears.”  It might be annoying if they found out about all the illegal stuff he’d done over the years, but most of it would be nigh-impossible to prove.  “Let’s get you into that suit.”

“Right,” said Izuku, peeling out of his clothes.  “Why a suit, though?”

“It’s something you’d never choose to wear and relatively anonymous,” said Toshinori.  He started to put on his own coat, checking that all the hidden pouches were filled.  To stay true to his disguise, Izuku was only carrying a messenger bag, and they would need the supplies. 

“How do I look?” asked Izuku.  The first thing Toshinori noticed was that he hadn’t bothered with the tie, but Toshinori had planned to take care of that from the beginning. 

The second thing—

Toshinori did not blanch. 

Of course, that’s what he looks like, whispered seven or so voices.  Knew from the beginning.  Have to read the DNA to rewrite it.  Can’t give this to just anyone.

Yes.  Of course. 

“You look wonderful,” said Toshinori, reaching for the tie.  “And also unrecognizable.”

“Well, that’s the point, right?” asked Izuku, running a hand through his hair.  “So…  How are we going to do this?”

Toshinori made a face.  He wasn’t terribly good at this part.  There was a reason he’d relied so heavily on Sir Nighteye once upon a time. 

“I… could come up with a plan,” proposed Izuku.  “Tell me how Trace’s quirk works.”

.

The fight reached the other side of the tunnel, and spilled out into bright, yellow sunlight.  Midoriya had been fighting Iida up until a moment ago, but upon exiting the tunnel he had run off.  After stabbing Suzuki in the eye with a pencil. 

Meanwhile, All Might, Teenage Menace special edition, was holding his own against them. 

One thing Aizawa didn’t understand, though, was why All Might wasn’t using his quirk. 

Thankfully, after leaving the tunnel, the boy began to falter, and then ran off after Midoriya.  Aizawa wasn’t interested in pursuing either of them.  Were there questions he wanted answered?  Yes.  Did he want them answered at the cost of invading his student’s privacy and breaking his trust?  No. 

In the meantime, he did have to see if the idiot needed medical care.  That was, unfortunately, part of his job. 

“Want help with that?” he asked. 

“No,” said Suzuki, pulling the pencil out.  In less than a second, his eye was fine.  “That hurt,” he complained. 

A small part of Aizawa mourned the fact that breaking Suzuki’s legs would not be enough to stop him.  A small, but very present part.  He pushed it away.  Thinking on might-have-beens was illogical. 

“Sensei!” called Uraraka.  “I think we’re in America.  All the signs are in English!”  She pointed. 

The signs were, in fact, in English.  Considering how much time All Might had spent in America, it wasn’t terribly surprising that Midoriya would construct such a place for him in his mind. 

… Although, he had to wonder why Midoriya’s mind had a teenage vigilante All Might running around in it.  Because if he were Midoriya in this situation, and he could pick any All Might, he’d pick top-of-his-game natural disaster All Might, so, this had to be an All Might that Midoriya just.  Had.  For some reason. 

“This proves it,” said Todoroki.

“Proves what?” asked Aizawa. 

“That Midoriya is All Might’s secret love child.”

Iida sighed, heavily, leaving off prodding his formerly impaled shoulder. 

“Think about it!” said Todoroki, as emotive as Aizawa had ever seen him.  “Who else would All Might tell about his dark past?”

Regrettably, he had a point. 

“Add that to the quirk, and the smile, and how they meet up for lunch at least once a week—”

“That is literally the dumbest thing I have ever heard,” said Suzuki.  “All Might is a natural-born hero.  A pillar of society!”

“Yes?” said Todoroki, squinting at Suzuki as if daring him to say something that made sense. 

“He isn’t going to have a secret love child.”

Regrettably, he also had a point. 

“Much less one like Midoriya Izuku.”

Okay, the point was gone. 

“In any case, black tentacles are not at all like All Might’s general enhancer.”

“It is like his mother’s, though,” said Todoroki, “and even though I keep saying ‘secret love child,’ my current theory is that Midoriya-san and All Might are, in fact, married, but they had to do it secretly, so that All Might’s enemies wouldn’t find them.” 

“Todoroki, please, you can’t just spread baseless rumors like that about your classmates!” said Iida, chopping at the air.  “Much less your classmate’s families!”

Todoroki looked hurt.  “But I have evidence!”

Aizawa should probably put a stop to this, but he kind of wanted to see where it was going, and there was no way this was true.  At all. 

If Midoriya was All Might’s kid, he would never shut up about it.  All Might, that was.  Midoriya was, evidently, capable of keeping secrets. 

(On the other hand, Aizawa didn’t have a better theory for their obvious close bond.)

“What evidence?” asked Iida, clearly intrigued despite himself. 

“Midoriya-san is amazing.”  Todoroki’s eyes sparkled like he was in a manga. 

Aizawa sighed, he should have known the ‘evidence’ would—

Wait. 

“Where’s Uraraka?”

.

Uraraka really should have been paying more attention.  Especially after all the situational awareness classes Aizawa-sensei had given them. 

Izuku didn’t blame her.  This was a distracting situation, and he rather suspected being asleep and ‘dreaming’ was affecting their judgement. 

Still.  It was almost too easy to pull her to the side and through a door into another part of the dreamscape. 

But after that, she shook off his grip and readied a fighting stance. 

“I don’t want to fight,” he whispered, making a quelling motion. 

Uraraka looked like she wanted to believe him but frowned.  “Sorry, but I kind of find that hard to believe after you stabbed Iida.  I mean, I know you’re under the effects of a quirk and all, but you’re still under the effects of a quirk.”  Despite her words, she matched his volume. 

“I know, I know,” said Izuku.  “It looks bad, but…”  He wrung his fingers together and adjusted the sleeves of his uniform.  “There’s something you guys need to know about what’s going on, and you were easiest to grab.  Can I explain?  I’m not going to fight you guys anymore.  Not like- Not like I was.”

Uraraka sighed and relaxed her shoulders, just slightly.  “Alright, Deku, I—” she faltered.  “Midoriya.”

“You can still call me Deku,” said Izuku.  “I mean, it is my hero name.”

“Yes, but… they used it to hurt you, didn’t they?”

Izuku shrugged.  This wasn’t the conversation he wanted to be having.  “If—I guess, if you want, you can call me Izuku.  It would feel weird for you to go to calling me Midoriya.”

Uraraka blinked.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes?”

“Then you have to call me Ochako!”

Izuku blushed.  “Okay,” he said, in a tiny voice.  He coughed.  “So.  Um.  Imagine, imagine you’re in a room.”  He gestured at the facsimile of the American diner.  “You’re standing in the middle.”

Ura—Ochako nodded.  “Sure,” she said. 

“Right.  So, you can’t see all the walls at once, no matter how you turn.  Unless, like, you have some kind of vision-related quirk, or a quirk like Shoji’s I guess.”  Izuku shook his head, putting aside that train of thought for the moment.  “Does that make sense, so far?”

“Yes,” said Ochako, “but I don’t see what it has to do with… this.”  She spread her hands in front of her.   

“Well, um.  It’s what was going on back there,” he gestured vaguely towards where they’d come from.  “From the beach until the tunnel.  You were in my head.  Kind of… inside my personality, I guess?  So, you couldn’t see the whole thing at once.  Just the walls from the inside.  Each, um, each one of me?  Each one of me was like a different wall.  You couldn’t see the whole shape.  They were incomplete.”

“Okay,” said Ochako.  “But that should still be what’s happening, then, right?  We’re still in your head.”

“Yeah, that’s why I needed to talk to you.  You aren’t.  You’re…  This me, the me you’re talking to, right now, I’m complete, because you’re seeing me from outside, now.  Well, mostly complete.  Like, you can’t see the other side of the room from the outside…  Oh, no, All Might is right, I’m terrible at metaphors.”  He buried his face in his hands. 

“It’s fine,” said Ochako.  “But, um.  You’re saying we’re in someone else’s head?”

“Sort of.  Just… not my dreamscape.  Mindscape?  It’s-It’s complicated.”  He lifted his head. 

“D—Izuku-kun, is this All Might’s mind?”

It was going to be pretty obvious once everyone woke up, so Izuku nodded.

“Why?” asked Ochako.  “How?”

“I can’t explain everything right now.  It’s too much, and I don’t know if the commission has someone listening with a telepathy quirk from the outside.  I know they’re not using it on me, because I’m awake, but—”

“What?  You’re awake?”

“Sort of, sort of.  It’s a side effect of what’s going on here.  I woke up when Suzuki-san shot me.  And I’m sort of on the run.  It’s really, really, not something I can give details about, though, because, you know.  Listening.”

Ochako took a deep breath.  “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Well, all of that, but also, we need to coordinate.  It would be best if we could get Suzuki-san to stay in one place, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“We were trying to do that before.”

“I kind of thought so,” said Izuku.  “The problem is, if you’re moving around, you’re going to run into All Might like you ran into me back in my dreamscape.  If Suzuki-san’s quirk works the way I think it does, and he keeps using it on me, that’s not a problem at this point.  But if he starts using it on T—on All Might, that’s different.”

“You know what his quirk is?” asked Ochako, raising her eyebrows.

“I think he can make people think of particular topics,” said Izuku.  “Like secrets and stuff.  Which is why him realizing he’s in All Might’s mind would be bad.”

Ochako nodded and perched on the edge of one of the tables.  “All Might was number one for so long,” she said, “I’d be surprised if he didn’t know a whole bunch of different classified things.  Should we try to go back?”

“… I’d say yes, but I need my brain power for escaping, not rendering traumatic moments from my childhood, and I know a lot of different classified things.  Some of which are, uh.  Significantly more recent.  Plus, I’m not sure All Might will let you go back.”

“Oh,” said Ochako, tilting her head.  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but there isn’t any truth behind Todoroki’s secret love child theory, is there?”

“Absolutely not,” said Izuku. 

“Okay.   I’m guessing you have a plan?”

“More like a distraction,” said Izuku.  “I don’t know how well this will work, but…”

.

“You know,” said Izuku as he shouldered his bag, both fascinated and horrified, “with your head shaved and the face mask bit, you kind of look like, you know.”

“Ah,” said Toshinori, uncertain how to react to realizing that he had dressed both himself and his successor as their worst enemy.  “I suppose,” he said.  “The coat is very different, though.”

“Yes.  It is.”

“Speaking of which,” said Toshinori, forcibly changing the topic, “remember to take the tie off if you get into a fight.  It’s too easy to grab on to.”

Izuku nodded, partially distracted by all the conversations happening in his head.  Then he blinked. 

“Vigilantism?”

Toshinori shrugged sheepishly.  “Did you ever consider it?”

All Izuku had ever wanted to do was help people.  Save people.  Heroics had been the best option.  For a while, the only option.  In theory, a person could get into heroics on merit and skill.  Everything else…  Anything like a doctor or a police officer or a lawyer…  It would have been impossible for a quirkless person.  Even finding housing could be difficult for the quirkless, because most landlords made people disclose their quirks, to ‘prevent accidents from bad quirk interactions.’

Toshinori wrapped an arm around Izuku’s shoulder.  For a moment, Izuku had forgotten he’d been listening in.  For a moment, he’d forgotten how bitter he could be about that particular

“Not then,” he said.  He’d known that he’d never survive without training he couldn’t get except at a hero school like UA.  “But now?”

“Heh.  We’ll make quite the duo, won’t we, my boy?” 

They needed to leave.  Before Trace got too close.  They both had their directions, but it didn’t really matter if they remembered them clearly or not.  Not when they could hear and feel each other, and they had so much help. 

They exited the hideout, climbed up through the storm drains, navigated through the building above them, walked a block together, and split up without another word.

Trace’s quirk could tell where a person had been.  She wasn’t as good at determining when they had been there.  Any trails left within two hours of each other looked more or less the same, according to her registration with the hero commission.  According to an interview Izuku had seen her give once, in the aftermath of a kidnapping, after ten, the trail disappeared entirely, and she needed to have the trail to follow it. 

If Izuku and Toshinori looped over their trails often enough, she wouldn’t be able to tell which trail was which.  With luck and planning, they could lead her in maze-like loops, break their trail up with buses and jumps between buildings, and get a head start on her.  A head start that they could use to outdistance her, because her tracking quirk took time to work. 

At least, that was what Izuku hoped would happen.  In reality, the commission records tended to be out of date, heroes rarely gave completely correct information about their quirks to the public, and even Izuku’s encyclopedic knowledge had limits.  After all, encyclopedias gave only short overviews of their subjects. 

But there had to be some relation between reality and record.

And if it didn’t work…  Izuku’s self-preservation skills was trash, but eight minds whirred behind his, more than ready to put theirs to work for him.  The consensus was to fight, and, in this state, they would operate by the consensus.  Nine of them together. 

Nine here, keeping them physically away from the commission.  Nine inside, keeping their secrets safe.  Nine keeping the doors strong and the vault clo—

He stumbled at the unexpected direction of his thoughts.  His head throbbed. 

It would be much easier if they weren’t in his head anymore. 

He hurried forward. 

.

Miles away, in the most secure prison in the country, the guards of the most dangerous villain in the worlds scrambled for answers.  They had sedated the man known as All for One to what was, frankly, a dangerous degree.  He hadn’t so much as twitched in hours, nor had he spoken, even before that. 

His brain activity was elevated. 

Highly elevated. 

It had been for hours, and they had no idea why. 

.

All for One smiled at the vault door in front of him.  It had been a long time since he’d seen it, but, nevertheless, his memory of it was pristine.  It was, after all, a place he revisited often in his thoughts. 

Wondering, wondering.

But this wasn’t then.  This wasn’t a result of him being lost in thought.  Oh, no.  This was something infinitely more interesting.  Infinitely more valuable. 

He ran his hand through his curly hair and hummed contemplatively.  Interesting, interesting indeed. 

He walked to the door an ran his fingers down the cold interior, the little scrapes and knicks catching at his fingertips.  Now, this, this was more detail than he had retained, but not, perhaps, more detail than, say, someone who had been imprisoned here for a long time would recall. 

A smile stretched out over his face, wide and sparkling and full of glee. 

This, he thought, would be quite amusing. 

He pulled back his hand and made a fist. 

“Knock knock, little brother.”

.

Izuku slowed to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

That. 

He blinked, hard.

That would be a problem. 

He started walking again, faster. 

.

Toshinori leaned against a grimy city wall, out of breath.  The mask was thick and made it hard to breathe, especially with his singular lung. 

Of course, what had him gasping wasn’t anything physical, but the massive weight of dread that had just settled on his chest.  Was Izuku in trouble?  Did the commission get him?

No. 

Slowly, unerringly, he rotated until he faced Tartarus.

Ah.

Not again.

.

Izuku broke off mid-sentence and grabbed Ochako by the wrist as the restaurant vibrated. 

“What was that?” asked Ochako. 

“A problem,” said Izuku, staring off into the distance, as if he was seeing something completely different.  Well.  He could be, Ochako realized. 

“Something in the real world?  Wherever you are?”

“No,” said Izuku.  “Change of plans.  You guys really, really need to get out of here.”  He pulled her out the door onto the street.  The sky was rapidly darkening.  He seemed to realize he was still holding onto her, and blushed, dropping her wrist.  “S-sorry.”

“We don’t know how, though.  I thought that was why we were doing the distraction.”

“We don’t know how, but…”  Izuku bit his lower lip.  “Yeah, yeah, no, one might be able to do something.  But if they’re closer…  Can’t just wait.  Can we still wait?  What do you think?  What…  That would work?  Maybe.  We can work with maybe.  Seven, that’s too far.   Okay, yeah.  Yeah.”

“Izuku-kun?”

“Sorry!  Sorry.  I think…  I think you might have to go forward after all.  The others have been here longer than I have.  They know more.”  He started running down the street.  “Come on!”

“Others?  What others?” asked Ochako, hurrying to catch up.

“The, um.  The others we’re connected to, me and, and All Might.”  He wasn’t looking at her as he ran.  “If you ask them—They’ll know more than me.  They’ve been doing this longer, and this is tangled in one’s quirk.  One of them might have seen a quirk like this before, been in this position before.”

“But—”

“It’s just really dangerous for you to be here right now.”

“Why?”

Izuku stopped and bounced in place.  “Weakened mental immune system, basically.  Something else is trying to get in.  Can’t do both at the same time.”

A building behind him exploded into rubble.  He winced. 

“What’s going on?” asked Ochako. 

“Flashback,” said Izuku.  “Toshinori…”  He shook his head and pointed down a cross street.  “If you go this way, you’ll be able to meet back up with everyone.”

“What about the plan?”

Izuku shook his head.  “Just try to stay alive, for now.  This isn’t going to be fun.  I’m sorry, I have to go!”

Before Ochako could protest further, he was gone. 

Chapter Text

Plans were made.

And discarded.

Different plans were made. 

These were also discarded. 

The problem (besides the fact that their best planners (except Yaoyorozu) were out of commission) was that no one knew what needed to be done.  If anything.  Yes, Midoriya had run out of the testing center.  Yes, the whole situation where Midoriya was initially placed in a group apart from all the rest of them was shady.  Yes, the fact that Aizawa and the other half of class was still missing was distressing. 

But they didn’t know what was actually happening.  They didn’t know if the others needed help, or what help they would need.  They didn’t know why Midoriya was running, chased by heroes of all things.  Jirou had wondered out loud if Midoriya had been mind-controlled by a villain with a quirk like Shinsou’s.  In response, Kaminari had a (brief) breakdown agonizing about whether he had inadvertently helped a villain kidnap his friend.

What a mad banquet of darkness. 

Luckily, they were training for… well, not situations like these, to be honest, but situations.  Just.  In general.  Dark, mysterious situations, where one wrong step could send a person plummeting into an abyss of misery.

Anyway. 

When in such a vexing a perilous situation, the thing to do, as Momo had pointed out, was gather information. 

Was Jirou plugged into the wall?  Yes.  Did Shouji manifest enough ears and eyes to make even Fumikage slightly disturbed?  Yes.  Did Yaoyorozu make tiny listening devices that fit on the mice and insects that Kouda had called?  Yes.  Did Kaminari spontaneously manifest hacking skills that no one knew about and then deny that they were hacking skills?  Yes.  Had Dark Shadow pressed herself flat to sneak under doors and temporary room partitions?

Also, yes. 

He tugged on Dark Shadow with his mind, directing her to return. 

“Find anything new?” he asked.  Tsuyu, his current partner in not-crime-quite-yet and lookout, leaned closer as well, interested.  

“The lady whose quirk they were using passed out,” reported Dark Shadow.  “Everyone she used it on is still asleep.”

“Nothing about Midori?” asked Tsuyu. 

Dark Shadow’s facial expressions were often limited, but, this time, her scowl was clear.  “Stupid stuff.”

“Like?”

Dark Shadow huffed, and Fumikage felt her annoyance.  “Like he’s a villain or a spy.  Stupid.”

Tsuyu closed her eyes and swallowed with obvious distaste. 

“Do you think that’s why he ran?  It seems unlike him.”

“Huh?” said Dark Shadow.  “Midori didn’t run.”

“What are you talking about, Dark Shadow?” asked Fumikage.  “Speak clearly.”

Dark Shadow elbowed him.  “Midori’s friends ran!”

“You mean Ochako, Todoroki, and Iida?” asked Tsuyu.

“No, they’re still asleep.  His friends.  Like you and me are friends, Fumi!”

“You mean his quirk?”

“Uhhuh,” said Dark Shadow, bobbing.  “They’re like us.  Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really,” said Tsuyu. 

Fumikage leaned and against the wall and slid down to put his head in his hands.  “What a mad banquet of darkness, indeed.  It is as if we journey at night, through a verdant and shadowy valley—”

“Come on, we have to tell the others,” said Tsuyu, nudging him. 

.

“What happened?” asked Hitoshi, softly, not quite believing what he’d heard.  He rubbed his fingers over the folds of his artificial vocal cords, stored in the top pocket of his backpack.  Legally speaking, he wasn’t supposed to have it, or any hero support gear, outside the school he wasn’t licensed, even provisionally.    But Hizashi had insisted, and Kayama-sensei didn’t object, so… 

“According to the Hero Commission,” said Hizashi, voice tighter than his hands around the wheel, “Shouta and some of the 1-A students were targeted by a villain at the testing center.”

“What?  What villain?  Shigaraki?”  That was the one that had been targeting 1-A again and again and again.  The one that had hurt him so badly at the USJ. 

“No,” said Hizashi.  “They said it was Midoriya.”

Hitoshi blinked, his brain first trying to find a villain that matched the name before shoving his fellow student’s face into his mind’s eye.  “You mean, he’s the one that wound up fighting the villain.  How many bones did he break this time?  Or did he get a new quirk?”

“No,” said Kayama-sensei.  “They’re really saying that Midoriya is a villain.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” stated Hitoshi.  “They think the second coming of All Might sunshine child is a villain?  If he got locked in Tartarus, half the population would, I don’t know, start confessing their sins and become model citizens before the day was out.  If his quirk wasn’t bone-breaking nonsense, I’d say it was the power of friendship.”  He stopped, considered that last sentence.  “Wait, this is about his quirk, isn’t it?”

“We don’t know,” said Hizashi. 

“They’re saying he kidnapped All Might.”

Hitoshi wondered if this was what people felt like when he used his quirk on them, because his brain had just bluescreened and was struggling to restart. 

“They’re what?” screeched Hizashi.  It was a good thing he was the one driving the car.  Hitoshi winced and covered his ears. 

“Didn’t All Might steal Vlad-sensei’s car?” asked Hitoshi, feeling dazed.  “How do you get from that, to Midoriya kidnapping him from across town.”

“I don’t know,” said Kayama, “but it’s all over Heronet and the commission is starting to release it to news networks.”

“That has to be the- the stupidest thing I ever heard!  I’d put more money on Yagi kidnapping Midoriya,” said Hizashi, loudly and angrily. 

“What the rat god said before we left makes much more sense now,” said Kayama, mournfully. 

Hitoshi blanched at her reference to the principal.  But then curiosity got the better of him.  “What did he say?”

“That to keep custody of all our staff and students, we were going to have to be creative.”

.

Hizashi had expected many things upon arriving at the testing center.  Being refused access to the unconscious teacher and students was one of them.  Obstructive bureaucracy was one of them.  People telling him something was illegal or forbidden by protocol when he knew it wasn’t was one of them.  Chaos was one of them.  Confusion was one of them.  Lack of organization was one of them. 

In these things, he was not disappointed. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the remaining half of Shouta’s class to not only be one hundred percent down with kinda-sorta kidnapping, but to have already laid a lot of the groundwork for it already. 

Maybe he should have.  But he didn’t.  How was it that Shouta, aka Mr. Expulsion, aka Mr. ‘you have no potential,’ had kept all the students from a class that had no scruples against committing things that most people would consider crimes?  A class that, having been given time to bond, would probably collectively turn to villainy rather than betray one of their number?

He paused and considered his long relationship with Shouta.  Mentally squinted.  Never mind.  He could see it now. 

Well.  It wasn’t as if Hizashi wasn’t like that, too.  He’d never really considered expelling any of them.  Except Mineta.  Grape Juice was on thin ice. 

“We most likely would have acted already,” Yaoyorozu said as the rest of the class distracted the commission officials who were supposedly supervising the pickup of the children, “but we didn’t know what we’d do after.  No escape plan.”

Reasonable.  The bus driver (Green Light, the Transit Hero) had gone back to the school after dropping them off and had to turn around once he heard the news. 

But, now, Recovery Girl was coming around with a fleet of ambulances from the hero hospital UA contracted with.  A hospital that was, incidentally, not the same as the one the Hero Commission wanted to bring all the people still affected by Saito’s quirk. 

Ambulances had room for riders.  It was unorthodox, but it would work. 

“Well, you have one now,” said Hizashi, quietly.  No one expected him to be quiet.  It made him almost invisible when he was. 

“I know you already have a plan,” interjected Hitoshi.  “But is there anything I can do?”

Momo blinked.  “Actually, yes.  We could get them out anyway, but it would help a lot if we had the keys.”

.

The search for Uraraka hadn’t been going well before the city started to fall apart around them.  In fact, it had been going incredibly poorly, because various versions of All Might kept popping up to try and punch Suzuki’s face off.  Literally.  At least two of the All Mights had declared that as their intention prior to attacking. 

Tenya wasn’t sure if he should be concerned about his friend’s mental state or baffled about his incredibly violent mental view of All Might. 

Perhaps the eyeless villain in Kamino had left a strong impression on him?  But All Might couldn’t have been responsible for the villain’s injuries!  It was All Might.  He hardly ever injured villains he took down. 

On the other hand, the villain at Kamino had been terrifyingly strong.  If there were to be an exception to the rule, he was certainly it. 

But the real reason, in Tenya’s opinion, the search had been going poorly was Suzuki.  The man would not stop talking.  His theories were even worse than Todoroki’s!

“That All Might is fake,” he was saying.  “He isn’t even using his quirk, just like Midoriya.”

“I think we all know that the All Might that exists in Midoriya’s mind is not, in fact, the real All Might,” said Aizawa. 

“This destruction is just another ploy, another distraction—”

“We get it,” said Aizawa.  “But it isn’t centered around us, so, logically, it must be centered around Uraraka.”

Suzuki scoffed.  “We should be looking for what Midoriya is trying to hide.”

“The only reason we aren’t beating you up right now,” said Aizawa, “is that we are looking for Uraraka.  So, shut up.”

“What about me?”

Tenya whipped around to see Uraraka stooped over behind them, breathing heavily, hands on her knees.  “Sorry,” she said, “I ran all the way here.”

Aizawa hurried over to her.  Tenya noted that he never quite turned his back to Suzuki. 

“What happened?” he asked.  “Where were you?”

“D- Izuku wanted to talk to me,” she said.  “He said something dangerous was about to happen, but if we went farther in, we could maybe get out?” 

Under normal circumstances, the overly vague report would have been cause for scolding, but Tenya could see how her eyes flicked to Suzuki.  There were details she didn’t want him to hear.

“Did he say how to go further in?” asked Aizawa. 

“No.  That happened and he ran off.”  She gestured towards another building that was slowly collapsing. 

“Wait a moment,” said Suzuki.  “If you’re here, what’s there?”

“Uh,” said Uraraka. 

“He told you, didn’t he?  What did he say?”

“Excuse me!” said Tenya.  “You are being very rude right now!  Uraraka has just come back from a harrowing experience!”

Tenya was not very good at lying, but this wasn’t really a lie, per-se. 

The distinction didn’t seem to matter to Suzuki, who gave him a brief, incredulous look before turning back to the gathering storm.  “He doesn’t want us to see this.”

“Don’t you dare,” said Aizawa, eyes narrowing.

Suzuki didn’t listen.

Tenya caught up to him without any trouble and punched him in the back of the head.  “Ow,” said Tenya, who had forgotten he wasn’t wearing his hero costume. 

“Did you break your fingers?” asked Aizawa as he dragged Suzuki back by the foot. 

“I’m going to have you all arrested and stripped of you licenses, unless—”

“Because we didn’t help you with an illegal interrogation?  No, you’re not,” said Aizawa.

“Nana!”

The voice bounced off the buildings and was swept away by the wind. 

“Nana!  Master, where are you?”

It was the voice of the younger, vigilante All Might. 

“Is he calling the name or the number?” asked Uraraka. 

“Master!  Please!  Answer me!”

With a shuddering heave, the building right next to them tipped over, falling into rubble before it even hit the ground.  The storm wind, heavy with rain and lightning, whipped down the street with all the force of a hurricane.  Tenya had to brace himself and cover his eyes. 

When he could see again, it was to discover Suzuki had run off again.  Towards the fallen building. 

Tenya was honestly torn between letting him get beaten up by whatever had flattened the building, whether it be Midoriya’s subconscious, the illusory All Might, or something worse.  Although, arguably, all those were the same the same thing. 

But Tenya was training to be a hero.  Heroes couldn’t pick and choose who to save.  He, and everyone else took off after Suzuki. 

They all stopped, though, when a boy in a torn UA uniform clambered over the rubble.  The boy cupped his hands around his mouth.  “Nana!”

That hair was recognizable from a mile away, not to mention the height.  All Might.  Yet a different version.  Tenya had known UA was All Might’s alma mater, but seeing him in a uniform like this, seeing him vulnerable, not in the way of a man at the end of his career, but as someone just starting out, someone like them, was oddly humbling and completely terrifying. 

What pushed him to this?  What put that distraught tone in his voice?  What put that bloody slash in his uniform and bruised his face?

Tenya had a sinking suspicion he knew what.  He didn’t even want to come into contact with the memory of that monster from Kamino. 

All Might was scanning the ground, looking for- Looking for something.  Someone?

His eyes fell on them, and even from this distance, Tenya could see them widen.  All Might began to scramble down the hill. 

“You,” he shouted, as he came closer.  “You—Underclassmen.  Have you seen-?”  He gasped for air. 

Even Suzuki, from what he could see, looked taken aback. 

“Have you seen a woman about—” He hesitated and adjusted his hand downward, to about the height of his chin.  Which was still taller than Tenya. 

All Might was tall in high school.  Or, at least, Midoriya thought All Might was tall in high school. 

This was confusing. 

“A woman about this tall.  She’s—She has black hair, and she wears it, um, half up.”  All Might fanned his hand behind his head to illustrate.  “She’s a hero.  Wears- Wears yellow gloves.”  He paused for a moment, eyes flicking from one to the next.  “You haven’t seen her.”  He whipped back around.  “Nana!”

“What even is this supposed to be?” demanded Suzuki. 

“Truly,” said Todoroki, “their bond is inspiring.  For All Might to tell Midoriya even of this tragedy…”

“Todoroki!  That’s entirely inappropriate!” exclaimed Tenya, turning to face his classmate. 

The wind picked up again.  The buildings began to twinkle. 

Earlier, you said something about being a vigilante.  What was up with that, anyway?

Midoriya’s voice sounded like it was right next to him, and yet the sound was entirely sourceless. 

The colors shifted.

.

Izuku wasn’t sure if he wanted to curse the bystander culture encouraged by the hero system or bless it for its unintentional effects.  Even though Toshinori was clearly suffering, slumped against a wall and shoulders heaving, no one stopped to help him.  In fact, most people were averting their eyes, barely looking at him. 

Generally speaking, Izuku decided, he’d curse it.  In this particular instance, however, it benefitted them. 

He looked back and forth before dashing across the street, not caring about jaywalking at the moment.  He jogged up to Toshinori, swallowing the name before it left his lips.  Right.  They were undercover, and the commission definitely knew Toshinori’s real name. 

“Dad,” he said instead, and mentally felt himself collide with a wall.  Couldn’t he have picked something else?  Come up with some fake name?  Or just not used a name to begin with.  With effort, he picked himself up and his dream-self kept running.  “I got your text,” he said, instead, for the benefit of anyone listening.  He inserted himself under one of Toshinori’s arms.  “Let’s go home.”

He smiled at a couple of people who were staring and hoped they wouldn’t report this. 

“I can walk, I can walk,” said Toshinori heaving himself off the wall with a shudder.  “I’m fine.”

This was a lie.  Izuku could still see the flashback playing out in his mind’s eye.  Even so, he nodded and tried to give Toshinori space, even as Toshinori put one hand on his shoulder and leaned on it heavily. 

This mental invasion was wearing both of them out.  No.  All of them out.  This was not, they reminded him, at all normal. 

Five gently pressed ways of dealing with flashbacks into his awareness.  Thank goodness for Five and his comparative normalcy. 

“We’re okay,” he said.  “We’re just on a street in Musutafu.  You can feel me, right?  And the sidewalk under your feet.  And you can hear the traffic and smell the cars.”  He kept going.

Toshinori gave a hum of assent after each item Izuku listed, but he could tell it wasn’t enough.  He might be able to see and hear, to touch and taste, but he could do the same things to that mental battleground. 

“What if,” said Izuku, desperately, “you tell me a story?”

“A story?” rasped Toshinori. 

“Y-yeah.  Earlier, you said something about being a vigilante.  What was up with that, anyway?”

.

It isn’t well known, said Yagi’s voice as the world came back into focus in an entirely different city with entirely different weather and signage, but I didn’t grow up in a terribly pleasant area. 

In fact, there was quite a lot of crime. 

Aizawa caught sight of a familiar head of yellow hair positioned above a plain gakuran.  The younger version of Yagi was staring down an alleyway. 

Suddenly, Aizawa felt himself pulled to stand right behind Yagi.  A man with a mutation quirk was being mugged by two young men with fire quirks.  He blinked.  The scene didn’t change, even behind his eyelids.  He couldn’t see his students, or Suzuki. 

What was this, a cutscene?

I, ah, rather disliked that.  Obviously, my thoughts about become a symbol of peace for the world were, well… Just thoughts.  But even then, for my own little corner of the world, I wanted to make a difference. 

Yagi, showcasing the fact that he’d always been a bit of an idiot, pulled on a medical mask and threw his bookbag at one of the muggers and punched the other one in the face.  At least he wasn’t using his quirk to do it.  The villain would have been paste on the side of the building. 

On the other hand, this was presumably some imagining of Midoriya’s, possibly based on a story he heard from All Might, if the voiceover was anything to go by. 

Oh, said Midoriya, I did that a couple of times.  Stop a mugging, I mean.                                                                                                                                         

I thought you said you weren’t involved in any vigilantism.

It wasn’t vigilantism!  They were just things I happened to run into, and I couldn’t just not help.

Sometimes, I wonder if your quirk really isn’t something like a villain magnet…

The scene shifted again, making Aizawa feel dizzy, even though he wasn’t moving.  Except, maybe that was why he felt dizzy.  Motion sickness. 

I never knew my parents.  I grew up in a foster home. 

Aizawa blinked, and the scene became clear.  A small apartment building with a tiny, tattered lawn.  Someone’s shoe had been left on the sidewalk in front, and Yagi was climbing the stairs to the door. 

Then, Aizawa was inside, and internally wincing at the noise level.  Screaming preteens were so far out of his comfort level you couldn’t see it with a telescope. 

(The exception, of course, was Eri.)

As he watched, Yagi was shoved several times, tripped, and had a water-manipulation quirk used to drop something that Aizawa suspected was toilet water on his head. 

Overall, the attitude towards people like us wasn’t quite what it was now, but to be parentless on top of that?  Many of the other children at the home thought there had to be something wrong with me.  There was a sigh.  Judging from what I’ve seen of your memories, I suspect you had the worse time of it.

I had Mom, though.

Aizawa found himself in a small bedroom.  Pinned to one of the walls was a corkboard.  Which looked distressingly like Todoroki’s.  Yagi crossed his arms as he contemplated it.

Once I had built up my confidence, one of the things I was trying to do was find out about a human trafficking ring.

Oh, yeah, those suck. 

… Why do I feel like you have personal experience in the subject. 

It wasn’t my fault. 

Soft, fond laughter filled the room before it was whisked away and replaced with a warehouse that just screamed ‘villain hideout.’

There was a fight. 

I tried my best, tried to be sneaky… I knew I wouldn’t win in a straight-out fight.  But…

Yagi was surrounded and clearly losing.  Then the doors burst open.  A figure floated, framed by the threshold, backlit by the streetlights.

First contact, whispered a voice like the wind.

Nana, said Midoriya. 

Nana, agreed All Might’s voice.  She saved me.  I… Didn’t want to get caught.  I ran.  Went back to the muggings. 

And then?

And then—

Another change in scenery.  A sidewalk by a stream.  Yagi stood in his gakuran a few meters away from a woman in a hero costume.  The yellow gloves stood out. 

And then, a week later, she found me.

The woman’s head snapped in Aizawa’s direction, and he had just enough time to realize she could see him before the scene glitched out and he was falling through an empty sky.

Chapter Text

It was times like this that really drove home the fact that Eri had been raised by yakuza. 

Normally, it was easy to forget.  Eri was an angel, almost too well behaved at times, and Mirio loved spending time with her.  Being asked to look after her while her foster parents were away was a privilege, not a chore.

Right now, though?

Now, Eri was in the middle of total meltdown and screaming threats at the news anchor who had just… reported something totally unbelievable and, if he was being honest, incredibly aggravating, even for him.   

Mirio hoped Eri didn’t know the meanings of half the words she was shouting but, Chisaki Kai being the utter horror that he was, she’d probably seen at least some of them done to people in front of her. 

Once again, Mirio was filled with the totally reasonable, if unheroic, desire to punch Chisaki until his legs came off like his arms did.  As this was not, in the moment, a helpful impulse, he pushed it aside. 

“I’m gonna kill you!” screamed Eri, throwing another marker at the TV screen, tears streaming down her face and horn sparking dangerously. 

On one hand, it was great that Eri felt safe enough here at UA and around Mirio to have this outburst.  On the other, Mirio really, really did not want to get de-aged out of existence. 

It would be really great to have his quirk right now.  Or Tamaki.  If only he and Hado hadn’t been at their internships today, maybe they could have solved this together.

He was currently alternating between trying to verbally calm Eri down and serially dialing every teacher involved in Eri’s care. 

Aizawa-sensei’s phone just rang and rang. 

Yamada-sensei’s went straight to a completely unhelpful voicemail. 

Kayama-sensei’s went to an even less helpful voicemail that also had the side-effect of making Mirio feel incredibly embarrassed. 

All Might-sensei was supposedly “kidnapped.”

Recovery Girl had her ‘medical emergency’ message on. 

This left a single, terrifying recourse. 

Nezu. 

With shaking hands, he pressed the call button and prepared to pray to the Rat God.

“Hi, Principal Nezu!” he said, loudly and brightly as soon as he heard the phone pick up.

“Hello, Togata-kun!  I take it that Eri-chan has seen the news?”

“I’m going to tear out your eyes and sew them to your a—”

Hoooo, boy. 

“Yeah,” said Mirio, “and she’s not taking it well.  I’m really sorry, but I need help.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for!” chirped Nezu.  “Knowing when to call for backup is something we try to instill in all our students.  I’ll be over right away.”

There was a beep as the line went dead.  Mirio put his phone back in his pocket and winced as Eri took a deep breath and let out another round of invective. 

“Eri,” he said, deciding to make one more attempt to calm her down before Nezu came, “don’t you think that’s a bit much?  She’s probably only saying what she’s been told.”

Eri whirled, incensed.  “But that’sa lie!  Deku isn’t a villain!”

“I know, but—”

“It’s the news!” she said, stomping her foot.  “They’re not supposed to say things that aren’t true!  That’s what Yagi-san says!”

“She might not know it isn’t true,” said Mirio, smiling consolingly (he knew this particular smile was consoling, because he’d practiced extensively).  “Sometimes, people believe lies.  Even good people.”

This was something Eri knew well, so Mirio hoped this reasoning got through to her. 

It did not. 

“But,” said Eri, incredulously, “it’s Deku.”

Mirio agreed with that sentiment, he really did.  But the sheer level of fury currently concentrated into Eri’s tiny body was too much for him to handle. 

Still, she seemed to be thinking instead of yelling or crying, so that was good. 

“I’m going to bite them,” she said, dreadfully calm. 

“Who?” asked Mirio, dreading the answer and knowing the storm had only stopped momentarily. 

“The people who come to interrogate me,” said Eri, as if it were a given that she’d be interrogated.  He was impressed she knew the word, right up until how she must have known it hit him.

“Why are you going to bite them?”

“Deku said that if a stranger tried to make me go with them or do something I didn’t want I should bite them and scream.  And also…”  She proceeded to describe a series of actions that would probably have the average assailant lying on the ground in a fetal position, defeated.  “And you, and Amajiki-san, and Hado-san said I should…”  Mirio vaguely recalled being consulted for and contributing certain portions of this but combined with Midoriya’s contributions and Eri’s anger it became significantly more sinister.  “And ‘Zawa agreed and he told me I should…”  Ah.  That was worse.  Much worse.  And knowing Aizawa, he’d probably taught her how to do at least some of it.

Mirio abruptly realized that, out of all the people Eri knew, he was most likely the second sanest.  He, as a person who saw no issue with appearing nude on national television multiple times, was not used to having such a position. 

If the commission were wise, they wouldn’t send any of their people anywhere near Eri.  They’d die.    

The door burst open.  “Am I a dog, a mouse, or a bear?  One thing’s for sure, I’m the principal!”

Mirio now understood why Tamaki spent so much time hiding in corners.

.

His students screamed alongside him as he fell.  He twisted, surprised and uncontrolled, in the air, flashes of skyscraper windows passing in and out of his vision.  Above him, the woman, Nana, stood on the air, looking down. 

Uraraka had reflexively stopped herself fairly quickly with her quirk, but she was now too far away to reach himself, Iida, or Todoroki.  Todoroki was trying to copy one of his father’s moves and fly with the flames produced by his left side, but obviously trying to do something like that with no practice wasn’t going to work well.

Suzuki was there, too, but Aizawa’s first responsibility was to his kids, not the idiot that got them into this mess. 

He swung his capture weapon upwards, trying to reach Uraraka, but the tumbling threw his aim off. 

Green lightning flashed in the corner of his eye, and he found himself wrapped in black tentacles and moving sideways at great speed.  They crashed through one of the windows into an oddly blurry and muted office space. 

Midoriya released Aizawa and set down his classmates carefully.  “Can you get Ochako down?  Blackwhip is still… difficult.”

Aizawa looked Midoriya over quickly.  He was wearing his hero costume.  It had the same tears in it as it did after the aerial battle with Chisaki Kai. 

There was a pattern here. 

He nodded and walked to the window.  Now that they were no longer falling, his aim was true, and Uraraka, who had been inching closer by deactivating then reactivating her quirk, caught the end of the capture weapon easily.  He reeled her in. 

“Izuku!” she said bouncing over to him and hugging him.  “You’re okay!”

“Haha,” said Midoriya, “yep.”

“You let Suzuki fall,” said Aizawa, who had been contemplating much the same thing. 

“I would have done something different,” said Midoriya, “but it wasn’t entirely up to me.  Nana would just drop him again.  It’s a dream, besides.  Worst that will happen is that he’ll wake up and then we can use that to wake you guys up.”  He turned away.  “Come on, Six is this way.”

“Six, not seven?”

“Nana’s taking care of,” he waved his hand in the direction of the broken window, “that.”

Uraraka glanced that way.  “I wasn’t sure before, but that’s Skyrunner, isn’t it?  I didn’t think she was still alive.”

“She isn’t,” said Midoriya, shortly, before beginning to stride across the room.  “We really don’t have time to stand around.  Six will explain things better than me.”

“Who’s Skyrunner?” asked Todoroki.

Aizawa kept his eyes on Midoriya.  He seemed distracted, his movements were lower energy than usual, as if his mind was miles away.

“She was a hero ages ago.  She’d be in her eighties, I think, but that was her.  I found her when I was doing research on quirks similar to mine.” 

“They aren’t really the same,” said Midoriya.  “Float is an at-will telekinetic type quirk with a personal range.  Yours is a five-point touch physical property alteration quirk.”

“Application-wise,” said Uraraka.  “But how can we be in her head if she’s dead?  You said before, we were in All Might’s head, so…”

“Wait, what?”  How the heck were they supposed to have gotten into Yagi’s head?  Was this something Midoriya’s dreaming subconscious came up with?  Or was there a massive problem about to smack him in the face as soon as he woke up?

More massive than the Hero Commission feeling justified in running a quirk-assisted interrogation on a minor.   A minor who was unconscious and may have been moved to another facility, away from any adults who might be on their side. 

Midoriya had stopped to lean against a doorway, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m not completely here.  I can’t—I’m busy, it’s hard to process.”

“Busy doing what?” asked Todoroki. 

“Being awake,” said Midoriya.

“You’re awake?” repeated Aizawa.

“Halfway.  It’s just—Unexpected quirk interaction.  When I was shot—” He broke off and shuddered.  “Six will be able to explain it better.  I’m on the run, sensei, I’m sorry.”

“You’re awake and on the run from the Hero Commission.”

“Mhm,” said Midoriya.  “Six will explain.  Probably.  I haven’t directly met Six yet.”

There were so many concerning things about that statement that Aizawa didn’t know where to start.  Midoriya pushed off the doorway and kept walking. 

“We need a contact point,” he said, “so we can cross over to Six.  I don’t know where they’d be for Nana and Six, though.”

As they walked, the building slowly changed from a generic office space to something that, at least to Aizawa, resembled a hero agency.  An old, dated hero agency. 

“Does this have something to do with ‘first contact?’”

“It doesn’t need to be first contact,” said Midoriya, waving over his shoulder.  “Just contact.  The rules are weird, apparently?  I think they’re different, normally.  I’m not sure where to go…”

“I’ll show you.”

Aizawa was incredibly tired of people showing up out of nowhere.  And Nana really had shown up out of nowhere, suddenly materializing in the hallway, not even having the courtesy to step out of a doorway or from around a corner and pretend this world operated on anything approaching hard and fast rules.

“Hey, hey,” said Nana, “you guys are all really tense, aren’t you?”

“You did drop us from fifty stories up.”

“Haha, yeah, I did,” said Nana, grinning and ruffling Midoriya’s hair.  “I’m still dropping that jerkface back there.  Hopefully, he’ll decide to nope out before too long and we can get the rest of you out of here without the whole Journey to the West reenactment.”

Midoriya squinted up at her, listing slightly to one side.  “Every time you use slang it’s so weird.”  

“Come on, kid, I’m not that old.”  She sighed.  “I’d give you Float now, but given present circumstances, you’ll probably want Six’s or Two’s.”

Midoriya straightened—And was it just Aizawa or did his outline become clearer?

“You can do that?” he asked.  He brought his hand up to his chin, index finger resting beneath his lower lip.  “It could be possible, depending on the mechanism,” he mumbled.  “But then would getting out be…?  No, it can’t be something like that, or it wouldn’t even be mentioned, and it didn’t work with Suzuki…  But it’s worth testing—Aizawa-sensei, can you use your quirk on Todoroki?  Todoroki, think really hard about waking up while you do it.”

They tried this.  Nothing happened, other than Todoroki not being able to use his quirk.  Aizawa had the sinking suspicion that this conversation was about Midoriya’s quirk gaining yet another, bizarre manifestation.  Did his quirk have something to do with split personalities?  Loading other peoples’ personalities and quirks into his head?

“It isn’t that, then,” said Midoriya.  “Saito’s quirk could still have a mechanism like that.”

“Or it could be the interaction between your quirk and hers,” said Nana.

Midoriya was silent for a moment.  “I guess,” he said finally.  “But we have to test—”

“We don’t want to overload you.  Like I said, I think you’ll want Six’s or Two’s more than mine.  Or even Four’s.”

Midoriya shook his head.  “No, considering what we’re up against, Float would be very useful.  Can we try?”

Nana nodded, put her hands on his shoulders, and bent at the waist to whisper something in Midoriya’s ear.  The room briefly flickered into sky, a sunset or sunrise throwing brilliant color from horizon to horizon.  The sound of wings presaged a flock of birds.  Aizawa braced for a fall.  Nana stood back up.  The room returned.  “Did you get it?”

Aizawa checked to make sure all of his (shaken) students were still there.

“I think so,” said Midoriya.   He took a deep breath.  “Yes.  I have it.”  He looked back at Aizawa.  “I’m sorry, I really have to go, now.”

Aizawa was also getting really tired of people disappearing, he decided.

Nana sighed.  “Anyway, come on, we have to get going.”

They all looked to Aizawa before following.  Aizawa sighed.  They didn’t have any other leads on what to do, and if they didn’t, they might get dragged along anyway.  “Might as well,” he said.  “This had better be a great explanation.  And I’d like it before we get to this ‘Six.’”

“Yes,” said Todoroki.  “Does Midoriya have multiple personality disorder?”

“It’s Dissociative Identity Disorder, and no,” said Nana.  “Not as such.  For now…  We’re part of Nine’s—Izuku’s—quirk.”

“Funnily enough, I had put that together.  Why you?”

“I used to ask myself that, you know.  Six is the one who can answer.  In the meantime… consider this a quirk history field trip.  Here we are.”  They stepped into a conference room, a projector springing to life along with the faint murmur of phantom voices.  “I was just a sidekick back then,” she said.  “Not his, though.  It’s funny.  Toshinori was mine, you know.  Before his debut.  He didn’t even go by All Might back then.”  The room glitched. 

Aizawa managed to get the impression of a surreal, almost Lovecraftian, landscape, rubble, and the words ‘You’re next.’

Aizawa could have gone his entire life without knowing that All Might had cribbed his last words as a hero from his teacher. 

Nana laughed.  “To be fair,” she said, patting his arm (patting his arm), “he’s not the only one.  Come on, I want you four worlds away from Suzuki.  Let’s get this show on the road.”

The lighting in the room shifted, and it filled with ghosts much like in Izuku’s school.  Another, younger, version of Nana sat among them, looking up at the projector. 

The underground hero Fidelity is here today to discuss a possible smuggling ring based out of Musutafu…

As the young man walked in, the whispers arrived… But there seemed to be fewer whisperers.

First contact. 

.

Izuku managed to levitate a centimeter off the ground before settling himself again.  Enough not to be noticed by anyone but Toshinori. 

Toshinori who was close to tears.  Izuku blinked back a few of his own. 

This was good.  With Float and the right planning, they could possibly break their trail even without the more complicated maze-path he and Toshinori had planned out.  Some of the words in Trace’s file seemed to indicate her quirk only worked over solid objects, and she didn’t work with the Coast Guard, even though her quirk would, otherwise, be quite useful there.  The conclusion couldn’t be trusted, of course, but if he could manage to stay floating, and get Toshinori to float as well, it would be well worth it. 

He almost laughed at himself.  Mastering a quirk in so little time, worth it.

“If anyone could do it,” said Toshinori, “it would be you, my boy.”

Izuku’s heart filled with warmth as the others agreed.  He could almost feel Nana ruffle his hair again. 

.

In theory, the plan to acquire the keys to the testing center’s off-limits areas was very simple. 

In practice…  It was also very simple, shockingly enough.  Maybe it was because the human explosive and the deceptively destructive sunshine child weren’t involved.  No, that couldn’t be it. 

Hitoshi walked up to a security guard, said excuse me, used his quirk, and asked for the keys.  Then he handed them to Yaoyorozu so she could make copies.  She gave the guard back the keys, and Hitoshi told the guard to forget him.  That order didn’t always work, but they weren’t having the guard move, and the whole operation had taken under five minutes.  There wasn’t much to remember in the first place.

“What now?” asked Hitoshi. 

“Now,” said Yaoyorozu, making more copies of keys.  “We get lost.”

.

The benefit to having a blunt and straightforward demeanor was that people rarely thought Tsuyu was lying. 

Well.  The UA uniform helped, too.  Even among heroes, UA was known to take only the best of the best.  The most trustworthy.

“Excuse me, kero,” Tsuyu said, sidling up to a young hero in civilian clothing.  “I was told to tell everyone to go into the back—They want us to spread out, for when the police arrive to question us?  The doors are already unlocked.”  She pointed.  “But our teachers have come to pick us up, and we’re going with them, so can you help?”

“Oh, of course.  That’s what heroes do, right?”  Bubble Girl shot her a pair of finger guns.  “Hey, you’re one of Deku-kun’s friends, right?  This is so weird.  Have you seen the news?”

“Yes, kero.” 

“Sorry, sorry, I know that’s probably not something you want to talk about.  I hope everything works out for him.”

So did Tsuyu.

.

The plan to flood the relatively empty back hallways with people and unleash a dance of chaos the Hero Commission, false warriors of light, could not hope to contain, went… Interestingly, in Fumikage’s opinion. 

There were several different entrances to the back that people were directed to, and, predictably, some of them were turned back, even though they had unlocked the doors.  There were commission people back there, albeit relatively few of them. 

The class slipped in among the others.  He led the way, as the sneakiest person after Hagakure.  Well.  Sort of. 

It was hard to figure out who was in the lead with all these people everywhere. 

Plus, he got… Ahem. 

He was swept away on the tide of darkness, with no beacon to guide his way. 

Dark Shadow cackled in his ear.  “Just admit you’re lost, Fumi,” she said. 

“I am not!” he hissed back.

“Besides there are fire escape maps over there.”

Oh, that was helpful.

.

When Chiyo woke up this morning, she had not expected to face the fact that Toshinori had finally lost his mind, and the entirely baseless accusation that Midoriya of all people had kidnapped him (the reverse was much more likely, in her opinion).  And yet. 

When Chiyo had been asked to organize and accompany the fleet of ambulances to pick up their unconscious students and staff members (something she had done many times) she had not expected to be point blank refused by the Hero Commission.  And yet. 

When Hizashi and Nemuri had asked the fleet to pull around to the back of the testing center, near a loading dock ‘to make room for other traffic,’ she had not expected her coworkers and eleven students to slam up the rolling overhead door of the loading dock and run out at full tilt while carrying ten unconscious bodies. 

And yet.

Maybe, after everything, she should have. 

She grabbed the radio from the dash and started rolling down the window.  “Open the doors!”

The students knew what they were doing, at least with regards to casualty transport.  They should.  They’d passed the licensing test.  Hizashi and Nemuri had better hope this nonsense didn’t get any of those licenses stripped, or, oh, she’d have words with them.

“Hey!” shouted a hero with a prominent commission badge pinned to his costume.  He extended his arm and delicate rays of light shot forth.  He was aiming mostly at Hizashi and Nemuri.  Typical.  One of the rays of light hit Hizashi’s heel, and his shoe turned to stone, causing him to stumble. 

Chiyo calmly stuck the end of her syringe-shaped cane out the window and depressed the well-hidden trigger.  A small sedative filled dart his the hero in the neck, where he was not protected by his costume.  He dropped. 

One or two of the students did a double take.  Chiyo rolled her eyes. 

Really.  She was a licensed Pro Hero.  Pros had to be able to act, regardless of how many of their expectations were being subverted. 

The students could stand to learn that. 

.

Large public TV screen at the intersection caught Izuku’s attention, despite how he was keeping his gaze on his feet, the better to monitor his use of Float. 

But, then, Izuku had practically trained himself to notice any screen with All Might on it.  That this one also had his picture on it was just frosting on the cake. 

They’re moving fast. 

Of course they are.  We’re a threat. 

We weren’t!

We’ve always been.  Do you remember—?

They aren’t putting quirk users into concentration camps.

No, just training camps.

Not the time.  We’ll have to deal with the Hawks problem later.

… We were hoping for more time.

“The Hawks problem?” asked Toshinori.

“I have no idea,” said Izuku.  “Come on, we have to keep going.”

.

Trace was very good at what she did, and Hawks was genuinely hoping that she would be the one to find Midoriya and All Might, not him.  He didn’t want to be responsible for what was going to happen to the kid, spy or no.  He didn’t want to get on All Might’s bad side, either, retired or not. 

Really.  The commission should have taken the hint when All Might left of his own accord.  Hawks didn’t know how he’d found out about the commission’s plan to psychically interrogate Midoriya, but obviously he did.  And he objected.  Strenuously. 

It might have been better for him to go public, though, rather than spirit the kid away. 

On the other hand…  It had only been a couple hours at this point.  Maybe he hadn’t had the chance.  Getting the kid out of commission hands might have been his priority, depending on how much he heard. 

What Hawks had heard…  Yeah.  Not great.  One guy in particular had seemed overly enthusiastic about Midoriya’s possible rehabilitation. 

He sighed and took off his goggles, so he had a better view of the city below him.  Hawks had lucked out in the color receptor department.  Like most birds, he had four, as opposed to the baseline human three.  If anyone could pick out Midoriya’s green mop and All Might’s eye-watering blonde in these crowds, it would be him. 

And if they had changed their appearances?

Well.  Their heights were distinctive enough on their own, especially when paired. 

Hawks genuinely hoped Trace would find them first.  But he wasn’t counting on it. 

Well.  This was far from the worst thing the commission had asked him to do. 

.

Samson and Delilah were a relatively new duo.  Samson had a gorilla mutation.  Delilah had a ‘conditional status ailment’ quirk that doubled as a boost to herself.  Kind of annoying to activate, though, honestly.  Who else had a quirk that made them eat hair?

Anyway, this was their first assignment from the commission.  All they had to do was pick up a potential witness. 

“Or colluder,” said Samson. 

“Come on, have you seen her face?”  Delilah gestured with the photo in her hand. 

“She’s his mother.  Mothers know everything.”

“Your mom, maybe,” said Delilah.  “I think this is it.”  She checked the door number.  Yep.  “You knock.”

Samson’s knock was loud and intimidating.  It got no response. 

“Again?” suggested Delilah.

But no matter how many times Samson knocked, he would get no answer.  Midoriya Inko was not home. 

.

Inko checked the piece of paper with Dr. Tsubasa’s current address on it again.  Hisashi had always told her that if anything happened, and he couldn’t be there, she should go to Dr. Tsubasa.  She never had.  The wound he had given her son when he was five had never completely faded, and she couldn’t help but hate him for that. 

But Hisashi wasn’t picking up his phone, and this, this was bigger than she could hope to deal with. 

Dr. Tsubasa had better be able to.  Or else. 

(Inko did not know if the ‘or else’ was for herself, Izuku, Hisashi, or Dr. Tsubasa himself, but it was most certainly there.)

(Incidentally, Hisashi was going to get a lot of ‘else’ from her regardless, for not picking up his phone.)

.

Once, when he was young and stupid, Tomura had thought of life as a single-player game.  First person.  A shooter, maybe.  First person RPG. 

Before he’d turned twenty, though, he’d realized that to get anywhere, he’d need a party.  Obviously, he was still the only player, other than Sensei, and Sensei didn’t count.  Sensei was different.  Everyone else was NPCs.  Interesting ones, maybe.  But just look at Twice!  He could turn everyone into infinitely respawning mobs.  As things were meant to be. 

But the USJ, Hosu, and everything that happened that summer had taught him better.  This was a co-op, and when someone got a permanent game over, when they were logged off forever… It made something burn inside him because those were his party members. 

He’d found Magne annoying.  But when she declared herself everyone’s big sis…

Even so, he’d hung on to the notion that they were fighting the CPU.  No intelligence on the other side.  Just violence, power, and an assortment of unfair, programmed-in cheat codes. 

This, too, was a false impression of the world.  This revelation hadn’t come as quickly as the last.  In fact, if he were to be honest with himself (a despicable practice) he’d have to admit the realization had been building, percolating, since the USJ.  It was something he’d acknowledged, even, although he hadn’t realized it at the time. 

This game had a Player 2.  And the noob had just finished the tutorial. 

He smiled wide enough to make his lips crack and sting in the dusty air of the current hideout.  The pinging news alerts on his phone faded into the background as he made his plans. 

Tomura was supposed to be following the main questline, gathering party members, and powering up, but what was multiplayer without griefing?  What was an open sandbox without distractions?

“Hey, guys,” said Tomura, lazily, not even looking over his shoulder.  “You up for a side quest?”

Chapter Text

A young man walked in.  His hair was dark, the style conservative.  The only thing that stood out about him was his high-collared jacket. 

Aizawa knows who this man is, for much the same reasons that Uraraka knew Skyrunner. 

Fidelity had literally written the book on underground heroism.  It hadn’t been published until his death. 

The lights flickered.  The murmuring of the shadows rose, then cut off abruptly, the shadows disappearing along with Nana.  The projector screen changed.  It now read:

Greetings 9’s Friends!  (And teacher.)

“This was my last mission briefing before I died,” said the young man.  “At least, that’s what I’d say if I was really Fidelity.”

“You’re saying you aren’t,” said Aizawa, keeping his voice level. 

The screen behind him changed to read Vestiges: what you need to know.

“I am based on Fidelity.  I’m also based on Railgun.”

“The hero who took down Destro?” asked Uraraka, clenching her fists and briefly floating in excitement. 

Why was she not getting a better grade in history? 

“Not exactly.  He wasn’t actually captured until years later.”

“But you broke his charge, his army!  And all by yourself!”

“Railgun did, yes.  I’ve put together a little presentation for you guys.  Hope you don’t mind.  We all figured you wouldn’t want to go any further without an explanation of sorts.”  He said this all with an enviably flat voice, despite his friendly words.  His body language was controlled and to the point. 

Darn Midoriya for managing to build a fantasy that was so close to what Aizawa had always imagined the man to be like. 

(He was not a fan of Fidelity.  Underground heroes did not have fans.  It defeated the point.)

(He pointedly ignored his memories of the bootleg Eraserhead merchandise Midoriya and Yamada had snuck to Eri.)

“You’d be right,” said Aizawa.

“Cool,” said Six.  “Before we begin, I want you to understand that much of what I’m going to tell you will be a lie.”

“What?” said Iida, confused.  “Then what’s the point?”

“The point is, there will be enough truth in it to get you through this safely, and enough falsehood to prevent the commission from taking advantage of Nine later, should they be watching what’s happening here with a quirk we can’t detect.”

“Nine?” 

“Izuku,” clarified Six. 

“Who you called Nine because…?”

“If we count in order of when we were supposedly born, he’s the ninth.  Although, really, he’s the first.  I’ll explain in a moment.”  He pointed to the screen.  “We call ourselves vestiges, and, like I said, we are all based on real people.  We’re part of Nine’s quirk.”  The screen switched to show Midoriya with eight shadowy figures behind him.  “I want to stress that Nine wasn’t aware of us until the sports festival.  Specifically…”

The screen now showed Midoriya’s fight with Hitoshi, right before he broke his fingers.  Aizawa recognized the image as a still from one of the cameras.  Except those eight shadows were there as well, right in front of Midoriya. 

“You had something to do with him breaking his fingers and getting out of Shinsou’s quirk.”

“We don’t mix well with mental quirks, apparently.  Nine minds all together at once are too many, even if eight of them are fictional.  It’s an interesting side effect.  Speaking of which.”

The new slide was a picture.  An edited picture.  Of a person giving a presentation. 

“Is that a meme?” asked Todoroki.

“Yes,” said Six. 

The slide read, You were never in All Might’s mind.  Nine was just confused.

That meme was so old Aizawa could feel himself taking psychic damage just by looking at it. 

“You’ve been passing through our, the vestiges’, mindscapes.  Eight is simply based on All Might.”

That would be a relief, if not for the fact that that Six had admitted he was going to lie.  Also, there was something off about the whole explanation. 

Iida raised his hand.  “Excuse me!  You claim that you are part of Midoriya’s quirk, but you haven’t explained how!”

“I’m getting to that,” said Six.  “Todoroki-san, you’re the one who is always saying how similar Nine and All Might’s quirks are.  Do you have any theories?”

Todoroki’s eyes lit up, even though he kept his habitual deadpan expression.  “Midoriya is All Might’s secret—”

“We wish, but sadly no.  Pick a different one.”

Todoroki looked devastated.  He collected himself quickly, however.  “Midoriya’s strength,” he said, “he got it from All Might, didn’t he?”

“Yes.  Eight is a bit of a complicated case, since he’s based on someone who is alive and Nine knows personally, but in the end, he’s the same as the rest of us.”

“He said something about receiving Skyrunner’s quirk, earlier,” said Uraraka. 

“And Blackwhip…” said Iida. 

“You’re getting it,” said Six.  “Blackwhip originally belonged to Five, incidentally.”

“He has a copy quirk,” concluded Aizawa. 

Six nodded.  The screen changed.  “Right now, Nine has four quirks, three of which he can use freely.  Superpower, Blackwhip, and Float,” he read the quirk names off the screen. 

“And he’s going to get more?” asked Aizawa.

“Eventually,” said Six.  “We don’t want to overload his body—This whole process only kicked off when he met All Might.”

“And why you?” asked Aizawa.  “Why All Might, Skyrunner and these… Five others?”

“I would like to tell you,” said Six.  He raised a finger and waved it in a circle to indicate outside listeners. 

“What are the drawbacks?” asked Aizawa. 

“Hm?”

“The drawbacks.  I get dry eyes when I use my quirk.  Present Mic is deaf.  Vlad is anemic.  A quirk like this one has to have a drawback.”

“What, the broken bones aren’t enough for you?  Or the fact he didn’t hit on the activation conditions until he was fourteen?”

Aizawa stared, unimpressed. 

A tiny corner of Six’s mouth made itself visible over the collar of his coat.  “Well.  I think you can make some conclusions but, again…”  He trailed off.  “There are a few more things you should be aware of.  First, Nine had no choice in who we are, although we all fulfil certain criteria.”

“Are you all relatives?” asked Todoroki. 

“Man, you never do give up, do you?” said Six.  “That’s a great quality in a hero.”

“Are you all heroes, then?” continued Todoroki. 

The slide on the screen changed again. 

Vestiges According to History:

8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero

4. Vigilante

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

“Unfortunately,” said Six, “no.”

.

Toshinori caught sight of the feathers first.  He had more experience as a hero, and, as he was no longer the primary user of One for All, the mental strain he was experiencing was much lower, comparatively.  His awareness of his surroundings was better.

Stay calm.  Don’t speak.  Don’t run. 

Hawks could receive sensory input from his feathers, though neither Toshinori nor Izuku knew how much.  Better to be safe than sorry. 

We need to get out of the city.

Out of the country, too, for that matter, as much as it would hurt Izuku—

They couldn’t leave all their friends behind to face Shigaraki. 

A compromise could be reached.   They knew a few places—An island, near—

But first, the city.  The first priority was to evade pursuit. 

A bus pulled into the stop ahead of them, and they got on.  If they could get outside city limits, where there were fewer people, fewer witnesses, Izuku could float them away.  Also, Hawks was less likely to trap his feathers on a bus. 

We might be dealing with the Hawks problem earlier than thought. 

Izuku slouched back on the bus seat, covering his eyes.  Toshinori looked up at the ceiling.  The Hawks problem.  AKA, the others’ theory that Hawks had been raised as a child soldier, and Toshinori had missed the signs. 

Izuku put his hand on Toshinori’s knee. 

“I can’t believe it,” said one of the other passengers, a few rows ahead of them.  “I really just can’t believe it.  It’s like something from a horror story.”

“What?” asked someone else. 

“Look!” 

“Someone kidnapped All Might?”

The bus filled with chatter. 

Toshinori still couldn’t believe people thought Izuku kidnapped him.  The reality was closer to the opposite, honestly.  He’d have to apologize to Izuku’s mother…

There was a tiny incensed gasp from Izuku, and Toshinori saw Izuku glaring up at him.  Izuku made a series of gestures that could probably have been interpreted as ‘You can’t kidnap anyone, you’re All Might!’ even without the psychic link they were currently enjoying, then went into an enthusiastic tangent about how the commission was probably playing up the ‘crazy stalker fan’ angle.

Toshinori sighed, ruffled Izuku’s hair, and studiously avoided any and all thoughts about what he’d done to Aldera Middle School after Izuku had shown up to training with a black eye and bloody nose that one time. 

“What?” squeaked Izuku, his eyes gone very wide. 

Drat. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Toshinori saw three passengers near the front of the bus stand up and felt his heart drop.  One of them had an obvious eagle mutation, the second had a bulging, almost spherical, neck, and the third had broad, flat-ended fingers. 

Decades of hero experience told Toshinori exactly what was going to happen next.  Even before the guns came out. 

“Well,” said the eagle-headed man, “with all the heroes looking for the ‘Symbol of Peace,’ I guess this is our lucky day!”

“Nobody move!” demanded the man with the round neck.  “This is a hijacking!”

Izuku let out an incredulous grunt next to him, but Toshinori could literally feel his mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, analyzing the quirks of the hijackers and possible motives. 

Really.  There was no way they weren’t going to help. 

.

“By the way, not all of Nine is awake, so, out in the real world his body is operating according to consensus.”

“Consensus of…” said Aizawa, not wanting to finish the thought as he stared at the two entries labeled ‘terrorist.’

“All nine of us together, yes.”

“That’s a pretty big drawback,” said Aizawa, his voice rasping against his throat.

“Eh.  It has its benefits.  Besides, Three and Two lived over a hundred years ago.  We didn’t even have the hero system back then.  Things change.”

“Excuse me!” said Iida, raising his hand.  “Why don’t the last four—the first four? —have names?”

“They asked me not to share them with you quite yet,” said Six.  “Don’t call Three a terrorist though.  That’s a bit of a sore spot with her.”  He looked off to the side. 

“And the quirks?” said Aizawa, hanging on to the very last bit of his will to live by the tips of his fingers.  “The ones I’m presumably going to have to teach Midoriya how to use?”

“Right.”

Our Splendiferous Quirks

8. Yagi Toshinori aka All Might – Hero. Quirk: Superpower.

7. Shimura Nana aka Skyrunner – Hero. Quirk: Float.

6. Tenma Rokuya aka Fidelity/Railgun – Hero. Quirk: Internet Perception.

5. Banjo Daigoro aka Lariat – Hero. Quirk: Blackwhip.

4. Vigilante. Quirk: Danger Sense.

3. Terrorist

2. Terrorist

1. Unknown

Aizawa was not surprised to see the last four entries, once again, had little information attached. 

“You know,” said Uraraka, “if you ignore the terrorists, this actually makes sense.”

“If you ignore the terrorists?” asked Iida, incredulous. 

“I mean, think about who we’ve seen so far.”

“It is like Midoriya to have a split personality based on All Might,” agreed Todoroki.  Because split personalities were going to be his go-to theory, now that figments of Midoriya’s quirk’s imagination had shot down his ‘Dadmight’ conspiracy. 

“If you want to think of us as split personalities, sure,” said Six.  “We really don’t interact that much with the outside, though.”

“And Skyrunner is basically supermom,” said Uraraka.  “Like, if she was All Might’s mentor, it makes sense that that’s what he’d envision her as.”

“Ah,” said Iida, “so she reminds you of Midoriya-san as well?”

Aizawa noticed Six shift uncomfortably and look away but decided he honestly did not want to know. 

“Oh, and you,” said Uraraka, spreading her hands to indicate Six, “are kind of like Aizawa-sensei!

“Except with more memes,” said Todoroki. 

“Yeah, except with more memes,” agreed Uraraka. 

Six faked a cough into his fist.  “Anyway, I think that’s everything…  No, wait.  Hawks.”

“Hawks,” repeated Aizawa. 

“Yeah.  We’re pretty sure he was raised and conditioned to be a slave for the commission from a very young age.”  Another pause.  Six turned to face Todoroki.  “Also, Dabi is probably your dead older brother, Todoroki Touya.”

“Oh,” said Todoroki. 

“What,” said Aizawa. 

“We’d just like someone in a position to do things with this information to have it.  Even if we were sure Nine would retain all this, he, ah.  The commission is doing a very good job of trashing his reputation.”

“Is this revenge?” whispered Todoroki.  “Did I push Midoriya too far?”

“Kid, you could beat Nine up on a weekly basis for ten years, and he’d still barely think of revenge.  Come on, I need to take you guys to Five.”

Barely, he said.  Meaning, he did think about revenge.  They had to get out of here fast; Bakugo’s life was in danger. 

.

There were lives in danger.  A simple robbery wouldn’t require this kind of setup.  These three needed hostages for some reason. 

Or…  Izuku traced the direction the three villains kept looking to the college student in the corner.  The young woman’s clothing was high quality, and she looked vaguely familiar. 

He couldn’t help but be exasperated.  Shigaraki Tomura was running around out there somewhere, and these guys were doing… whatever this was.  Causing problems.  He and Toshinori would have to try and evade Hawks after this. 

But exasperation wasn’t going to keep these people safe. 

Eagle-head looked like the leader at first glance, but on closer inspection, he was taking cues from the man with the squared-off fingers.  The man with the round neck seemed to have a body expansion quirk of some type, possibly similar to Kendo’s, considering how his joints pulsed and how his clothing was designed with extra folds. 

… He’d shown Toshinori a catalogue with similar clothing, once.  But Toshinori had said that the ill-fitting look added to his disguise. 

In the tight confines of the bus, that would be dangerous.  The best thing to do to him would be to throw him out when the bus came to a stop.

The quirk of the man with the square finger was a problem.  It was probably an emitter type, rather than a transformation type.  Something to do with his hands, perhaps?

Honestly, the best thing to do for all of them, at least with regards to the people on the bus, would be to toss them off and then get the driver to gun it.  But then, what about people on the street?  These guys didn’t have any scruple against taking hostages, obviously. 

“Hey, you, hand over the briefcase,” said the man with the round neck. 

Izuku glanced at Toshinori, who nodded.  Coils of Blackwhip ran up and down his arms under the sleeves of his suit, much more controlled and complex than Izuku had managed to date. 

Thanks for the help, Five. 

He slammed the briefcase into the eagle-headed man’s beak.  Toshinori hadn’t skimped on anything when stocking the hideout, and the metal made immensely satisfying contact with bone.  Blackwhip shot out from near his elbow—like Sero—and wrapped around the hands of the gunmen, forcing their aim down.

The man with square fingers reacted first, raising his hand.  Each fingertip emitted a flat, square pane that traveled in a straight line and got progressive larger.  Izuku pulled, slamming the man into the back of his own shield, because really, that was too slow, and how similar was this quirk to Crust’s?  Could the villain change the trajectory of his panels, or no?

Not the time.

The shield cracked as Izuku hit it from the other side, and Toshinori was throwing open the back door.  The man with the expanding quirk—and it was an expanding quirk—seemed to finally realize what was happening, and lashed out, but Izuku was faster than he was.  The spherical throat was evidently a weak point. 

“Can you stop?” Izuku asked the bus driver, who, tense as he was, slammed down on the brakes, making Izuku stumble.  He hauled the villains off the bus, Toshinori hopping off the back with the eagle-headed man a moment later. 

Well, that had happened. 

Izuku caught a flash of very distinctive red out of the corner of his eye. 

.

Six stopped.  “That isn’t good,” he said, looking slightly up.  There was nothing there that Aizawa could see, except for a collection of pipes.  They were travelling through a series of underground concrete passages in an effort to find ‘Five.’

“What is it?” asked Uraraka. 

Six’s form abruptly flickered and vanished.  Oh, that couldn’t be good. 

“Sensei.” 

Aizawa turned to see Midoriya standing behind them, wearing a truly godawful pinstriped suit.  He held his right wrist in his left hand, an odd bracer wrapped around it. 

“Is that the Full Gauntlet?” asked Uraraka.  “Why-?”

Midoriya flashed a quick smile in her direction.  “I’m sorry, sensei, this is really last minute, but I need you to tell me how to use your quirk.”

.

We absolutely can’t strike first.

They wanted to.  They knew this would turn into a battle.  The first strike was an advantage they couldn’t discount. 

Win the battle and lose the war. 

He could see the cell phones already out, held bystanders not quite broken from the habits gained in All Might’s era.  Even with the Hero Commission already slandering him, this would affect the narrative.  If he ever hoped to be welcomed back to hero society, or even the public’s good graces, in any way shape or form, he could not be seen starting a fight with a hero.  Much less the current number two hero. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll make my job easier and release All Might from your mind-control quirk,” said Hawks, tone conversational despite the fact he was standing at least two stories above them in the air. 

“I don’t have a mind-control quirk,” said Izuku, reaching up to the knot of his tie. 

“And I’m not being mind-controlled,” said Toshinori, loosening his mask. 

Hawks actually paused.  “Oh my gosh,” he said, raising one hand to his mouth like a scandalized housewife, “I didn’t realize that was you!  What happened to your hair?”

“I… cut it off.”

“That’s, uh.”  Hawks quickly regained control of his expression.  “Terrible that this villain made you do that.”

Hawks’ heart wasn’t entirely in this apparently. 

Just as apparently, that had no bearing on what Hawks was actually going to do. 

.

“You’ve seen me use my quirk,” said Aizawa. 

“I know, and that’ll be helpful, too, but how do you use it?  What’s the feeling you get when you use it?  How do you activate it?  What’s the internal mechanism?  This is important.”

“Why?” asked Iida.  “What’s going on Midoriya?”

“It’s—” Midoriya’s form flickered.  He took a deep breath.  He was now wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants.  “I’m in a fight right now, and it would be useful,” he reported, calmly. 

“Please tell me it isn’t with my mind-controlled unconscious body,” begged Aizawa, “or the League of Villains.” 

“It isn’t.”

Thank goodness.

“I’m fighting Hawks.”

Why. 

No, ask questions later.  The Problem Child needed help now.  To fight the number two hero.

He didn’t know how knowledge about his quirk could be useful in a fight against Hawks, but the claim was far, far too stupid to be a lie.    

“When I turn on my quirk, I—”

.

Blackwhip unfurled from his arms like a dark version of Shouji’s quirk, tearing his sleeves to shreds and dislodging the feathers that had been imbedded there.  The ends wrapped around feather after feather, splitting into dozens and dozens of pseudo-arms.  Izuku was amazed. 

Someday, he would be able to do this on his own. 

For now—

For now, he was fighting Hawks, who had trained since childhood to fight on behalf of the commission. 

For now, he was a hero student, with only a few months of practical experience. 

For now, he was a fugitive, on the run and desperate. 

For now, he was host and member of One for All, and collectively they had been heroes for over a hundred years. 

And Toshinori had his back. 

They wrapped the silk tie around his knuckles.  Any protection for the bones in his hands was valuable.  In the other, they adjusted the briefcase.  They had only rarely used weapons in the last hundred or so years.  Usually, their quirks made weapons overkill. 

But before that—Before that, things were different.  For a while, One and Two had used swords, of all things. 

This battle was much more even than it looked. 

Their victory condition: Escape with Toshinori. 

Their failure conditions: Civilian injury, serious injury to Izuku or Toshinori, or capture of either Izuku or Toshinori. 

To avoid the first point of failure, it was best for them to get away from the vulnerable civilians.  They didn’t want to give away float so soon in the game, so… 

They grabbed the edge of a building with Blackwhip and launched Izuku upwards, flinging feathers away from him.  Toshinori would follow and provide the group with a second perspective. 

Hawks did not expect to be joined in the air.  An incredulous smile graced his lips.  Izuku smiled back and catapulted himself directly into Hawks. 

“You know,” he said, “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile for real!”

.

“What?” asked Hawks, startled.  He wasn’t one to have meaningful conversations with people he was supposed to bring in, but a statement like that had to be responded to. 

Even if most of his attention was on the quirk that Midoriya controlled with much more proficiency than indicated by his school records.  The kid was good, had good instincts when it came to battle, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to get past Hawks’s guard, or to really close the distance between them. 

“Your smile!” said Midoriya.  “When I was younger, I didn’t realize it, but once I knew the truth behind All Might’s smile, I understood!” 

“Did you, now?” asked Hawks. 

“Underneath,” said Midoriya, “your face is a lot like Todoroki’s!  It’s—”

Conversation during a battle was usually a distraction, to the person employing it as a tactic as well as the target.  Somehow, though, Midoriya was subverting that rule. 

“It’s actually really sad!” exclaimed Midoriya, breathless, but apparently genuine, not mocking.  “Who hurt you?”

“Heh,” said Hawks.  This kid knew.  How?  “Shouldn’t I be the one asking questions here?”

“Gotta hand it to the commission, they really did a number on you,” said Midoriya, briefly touching down on a rooftop.  “Why do you keep doing their dirty work for them?”

He was using that second quirk, but not his strength.  Was it a matter of ‘won’t’ or ‘can’t?’  Either way, it was something to keep an eye on. 

“Why don’t you—” Hawks briefly managed to pin Midoriya by the edge of his jacket, but the boy tore free easily.  “—fly free?”

“You’re one to talk,” said Hawks.  “What did you trade to All for One for those quirks?”  He didn’t actually believe Midoriya was in league with All for One.  Even tangentially, through proxies, they’d been at odds too many times, not to mention the videos he’d been shown by the commission of Midoriya and All Might interacting.  The connection there couldn’t be faked.

He’d know.  He’d tried so many times.

(Was trying now, with the League of Villains.)

(Midoriya wasn’t one of them.)

But he had a job to do. 

Besides.  Even he had to admit the commission had a point.  The quirks had to come from somewhere. 

(Just because Midoriya didn’t willingly associate with All for One didn’t mean he hadn’t been forced.  Didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten out.)

(All Might was protecting him.  How did they know each other?)

“Wouldn’t you take any hand offered to you if the person behind it offered to make you what you always wanted to be?”

Midoriya tilted his head to one side.  “Nope!” he responded, cheerfully.

.

On the street below, Toshinori coughed, blood splattering his sleeve.  What had Izuku been doing when he was younger, to get involved with so many dangerous and disturbing people?

It wasn’t my fault!

Kid really is a trouble magnet. 

Oh, heck, I think I recognized that one—

Really, with that sharp mind, and Izuku’s propensity for both curiosity, helpfulness, and, well, finding trouble, it was a miracle he’d stayed alive for so long. 

Wouldn’t call it a miracle, sonny—

HAHA I can’t believe he thought that was a dream. 

In his defense, a dream makes more sense than—

Guys.  Focus, please?

Yes.  This was not the time to discuss… that.  Now… Well.  Toshinori had a role he could play in this battle, even as he was, and—

Hawks and Izuku’s path over the rooftops mapped itself out in his mind. 

Oh, no. 

Izuku wasn’t evading Hawks. 

He was being herded by him. 

.

They tucked and rolled across the pavement, Blackwhip cocooning them and breaking their fall.   This was significantly more than what Five, what Daigoro, could use back when he was alive.  It took everyone’s efforts to keep everything going. 

Wait for it, they reminded themselves, bouncing back to Izuku’s feet. 

Izuku looked up.  This… was not a good position.  Hawks had forced them into the entertainment district.  They couldn’t trust that the fancy facades and art instalations of the buildings would hold up to Blackwhip.  Not to mention, in places like this…  He glanced around. 

Fourth Kind. 

Kesagiriman.

Slugger. 

Death Arms. 

There would be more, soon.  This was… less than good.  Maybe they should just grab Toshinori’s body and launch themselves with Blackwhip and Float, as far as they could.  They’d lose a lot of their advantage on Hawks, but at least then they wouldn’t be fighting five different heroes. 

Izuku gritted his teeth in something like a smile.  Five different heroes.  Well.  Nine on five wasn’t bad odds. 

.

Suzuku pulled himself along the ground, trembling.  He had been falling for—for ages by the time that witch woman had disappeared.  Why she had disappeared, he couldn’t guess, but…

Falling. 

So much falling. 

And hitting the ground again, and again, and again. 

You invaded our minds, said the woman, don’t complain when we counter with something psychological as well. 

Something like a laugh bubbled up from his throat. 

You can leave whenever you want, can’t you?

He’d show her.  He’d show her and find all her secrets.  Just see if he didn’t. 

.

Fourth Kind, Kesagiriman, Slugger, and Death Arms all had very physical, straightforward quirks.  Out of all of them, though, Death Arms was probably the most problematic, followed by Slugger and his long-range attacks. 

None of them held a candle to Hawks, of course.  Which was the reason why Death Arms in particular was so problematic. 

In order to deal with Hawks’s feathers, they needed Blackwhip.  But using Blackwhip and One for All’s signature superstrength at the same time wasn’t something Izuku’s body was used to.  They were limiting it to small bursts.  Death Arms’ own physical enhancement quirk, while miniscule compared to One for All’s current stature, was nothing to sneer at. 

If Death Arms—or any of the other heroes—landed a solid blow, that could be it for Izuku. 

They refused to be locked away again. 

That’s when it happened. 

A scene played across Izuku’s inner eye:

A frosty morning.  A little boy with dark hair.  A farewell.  Tears. 

He flubbed the landing and a sharp pain lanced through his ankle.  Blackwhip wrapped it, giving it much needed support. 

He started to rise, only to drop to avoid one of Slugger’s patented Home Run Pitches (tm). 

The ball spun, ricocheting off the stainless steel of an art installation before drilling right through a wooden beam on a bit of scaffolding holding up part of a building that was being refurbished.  Izuku let out a breath of relief (there were still people around who hadn’t learned how to run away from a dangerous fight) before they returned to the dance with Hawks’s impressively huge number of feathers. 

Blackwhip could keep up with them, barely, but Izuku was tiring.  He couldn’t take much more of this. 

He needed an opening to get to Toshi—

Another scene:

She couldn’t be pregnant.  Not now.  Not right after giving away another.  The next time Sorahiko suggested drowning her troubles in sake, she was going to shove it straight up his blowholes, no matter that he was probably just as drunk as she was. 

This slip almost resulted in Izuku getting his face punched in by Death Arms.  Considering what he’d just learned, he’d almost welcome that fate, if it made him forget.  Plus, it might have been funny for the ultimate battle of ultimate destiny, the show down between One for All and All for One, to take place between not one, but two potato-headed individuals—

There was a sharp crack from above as the damage Death Arms had done to the scaffolding made itself known. 

Izuku didn’t have to think before moving. 

.

“Alright,” said Midoriya.  “I think I’ve got it.  Thank you, sensei.”  He looked young, now.  Barely primary school age. 

“I’d feel a lot better,” said Aizawa, “if I knew what you needed this information for.”

“Oh!  That’s simple.  You see, it’s my theory that the overlap in mechanisms between my quirk and Saito-san’s might allow for interesting emergent behaviors.  Specifically, her quirk bridges a gap I’d normally have no way of crossing, although there’s certainly drawbacks.  It’s like what we tried earlier, when I asked you to use your quirk.  Although, I am hoping for different results than what I was looking for back then.  I think, with what you’ve given me, and this processing time…  Yes, this should work.”  He clenched a fist.  “These remnants—I can use them!”

Remnants.  Vestiges. 

Aizawa frowned.  Something… something wasn’t right, here.  The explanation Six had given them…

“Just keep going this way, for now.  Six will try to get back to you as soon as possible.  I have to go now!  I love you guys!”

He then faded out.  While waving. 

“Wow,” said Uraraka.  “Izuku-kun sure was a cute kid.”

Aizawa couldn’t argue with that. 

“Aizawa-sensei,” said Todoroki.  “You’re blushing.”

He wouldn’t lower himself to argue with that.  “This conversation is illogical.  Let’s go.”

“Sensei is weak to little kids,” observed Todoroki. 

And if they ever discovered they could remove the ‘little’ in that sentence and have it still be accurate, he’d never live it down. 

.

Hawks saw the eyes first, shining through the dust like two perfect green coins.  Then every one of his feathers went dead, and he started to fall. 

Sensation returned just in time for him to avoid hitting the ground at speed and, just as quickly, vanished again. 

A breeze blew cleared the dust away. 

Midoriya Izuku stood under the collapsed scaffolding, holding it up with black tendrils and sparking green arms.  If this scene had been all that there was, an observer might be forgiven for wondering why he was holding up the scaffolding like that. 

But Hawks knew.  If Midoriya hadn’t caught the scaffolding, even he wouldn’t have been able to get those civilians out from underneath it in time.  He glanced to the side, where the almost victims were standing up.  Normally, he’d just trust his feathers, but…

“Is that Eraserhead’s quirk?”

“Don’t worry, I asked Eraserhead-sensei for permission, first.” 

“What kind of monster—” started Death Arms. 

“Don’t you dare, Mister ‘my quirk isn’t suitable.’”  Midoriya shifted the scaffolding to one side and shrugged himself out from underneath it.  “As heroes, aren’t you supposed to consider the civilians around you?”  He laughed.  “I guess we’re still a little bitter about that.”

.

Izuku was putting on a good show, but he was reaching the end of his endurance.  Plus, he could already hear the sirens of police cars and the exclamations that followed large groups of heroes on the move. 

Good thing, then, that Toshinori was about to round the corner in three… two… one… There!

To an outsider, Blackwhip wrapping around Toshinori probably looked violent.  In reality, everyone operating the quirk was intimately aware of everything wrong with Toshinori’s body and did not want to add to his problems.  They could have probably grabbed an egg like this. 

Grabbing the newly-exposed concrete and rebar of the building behind Izuku, they launched themselves up.  At the top of their arc, they activated Float.  Blackwhip reeled Toshinori in, and they held onto each other as Izuku prepared to use air pressure to launch themselves forward. 

He hadn’t blinked yet. 

His eyes really hurt. 

(And so did everything else.)

He aimed and kicked against the air, sending them soaring away. 

They had escaped. 

.

Tomura ducked behind the wall at the top of the building, glad that his party had put so many points into stealth, because he was not touching what had just happened with a ten-foot pole.  He’d rather be shot again.  He’d rather fight Machia for a week straight with no rest breaks.  He’d rather listen to Sensei try to give him the birds and the bees talk. 

What was that?  Huh?  What kind of a broken character build allowed for that kind of combat ability?  The mods had to be asleep.  If he were in charge, he’d nerf it, pronto. 

That was a lie.  He’d take it for himself. 

Still. 

“Uh, Shigaraki?  Boss man?  You okay there?” asked Spinner. 

“No,” decided Shigaraki. 

Suddenly, making all of them jump, Toga squealed.  “Did you see him?  Did you see Izuku-kun?  He was so cute with his nose bleeding like that!”

“Hey,” said Dabi, “are we going after the green kid or what?”

“No,” decided Shigaraki, for the second time in as many minutes.  And then, “Gimme the phone.  We need to call the doctor to get us out of here.”

They did, but that was pretty much secondary to his primary objective, which was to cuss out the doctor concerning the cursed knowledge that was currently trying to escape his skull with a pickaxe. 

.

“Um,” said Inko.  “Aren’t you going to get that?”  She pointed at the phone that had been buzzing on the table for the past several minutes. 

“No,” said Garaki, pretending to sip at his tea.  “You were saying?”

Chapter Text

“But what if it’s the hospital?” Inko asked, still staring at the phone, cheek cupped in one hand.  “What if it’s an emergency with one of your patients?  It could be important.”

It wasn’t.  Mostly because nothing could possibly be as important as dealing with Midoriya Inko. 

Without a doubt, the woman was the most difficult to deal with person in the entire world.  It was no reflection on her personality, of course, but rather on her unique position. 

Garaki could cope with rabid villains.  He had handled heroes cursing him.  He could even converse normally with All for One. 

But then, compared to this woman, All for One was easy.  As long as she wasn’t part of the picture, all Garaki had to do was follow orders.  When she did, every interaction became a balancing act between All for Ones previous orders and not upsetting her. 

Garaki was too valuable to All for One for the man to kill him, which only meant that Garaki had been on the receiving end of some truly creative punishments in the past. 

Also, Midoriya Inko once threatened to pull his pancreas out of his nose if he ever spoke ‘like that’ to her son again.  Truly, she was a match for All for One, who had threatened much the same thing only hours later, despite the fact the results presented had been ordered by him. 

This was truly a terrifying situation, and he had to face it without even little Johnny at his side.  How pitiful…

“Really,” said Inko, “I think you should answer it.  Maybe it’ll give you some idea about how we can help Izuku.”

That seemed unlikely at best.  Even so, it would be unwise to go against the wishes of All for One’s chosen queen. 

He smiled tightly.  “I’ll have to step out,” he said.

“Of course,” said Inko, nodding. 

He stepped out if the dining room and checked the phone.  It was Shigaraki Tomura.  Because of course it was.  Normally, he would have scrambled to answer, but…  He looked over his shoulder, to make sure Midoriya Inko hadn’t spontaneously appeared there. 

One way or another, he feared, he was going to die today. 

No, he told himself, focus on the positives. 

For example, Midoriya Inko seemed to have taken quite well to the longevity quirk All for One had slipped her while they were dating.  Very well indeed.  He’d already known that, of course, but it was good to see it in person.  All for One’s youngest son was now in conflict with the heroes, even if he was still clinging to All Might’s emaciated skeleton.  The call from Shigaraki Tomura meant that Gigantomachia hadn’t killed him while Garaki was distracted. 

Overall, this day was going wonderfully. 

He answered his phone. 

“You f—”  

Ah, so it was Shigaraki Tomura. 

“How did you and Sensei manage to lose an entire-a—” And there he went again.  “—ing feral child?”

Wait.  Garaki knew about Midoriya Izuku.  How did Shigaraki Tomura?  “Er, what feral child?”

“The green brat!  Except he’s not green anymore.  He died his stupid puffball hair white—”

“—honestly, I always thought it was more broccoli—HA!  He’s a cauliflower now-!”

“Shut up, Twice!  He was wearing a suit, using Eraserhead’s quirk.  Did you guys think I was stupid or something?”

“What?”

“Do you not have the news in your crappy lab?”

“Erm.”

“What are you even doing, that it took so long for you to pick up your phone?”

“Well…”

“Never mind.  We need a fast travel out of here.  This place is crawling with heroes, and the giant boss is going to wake up soon—”

“I can’t,” said Garaki.  “I’m not in my lab.”

It wasn’t quite silent on the other side of the line. 

“What do you mean, you aren’t in your lab?”  A pause.  “What are you doing, old man?  Where are you?”

“I have to go, now,” said Garaki, feeling oddly detached.   The phone beeped as he hung up on Shigaraki Tomura.  He opened his news app. 

Masterfully, he avoided crying as he read through the top local stories.  The real shock was that All for One hadn’t broken out of prison yet. 

Oh, and Eraserhead’s quirk, because he absolutely shouldn’t have been able to do that.  The quirks of the past users, yes, fine, that made sense.  The mechanism between All for One and One for All was presumably sufficiently similar.  But Eraserhead’s, that was a different story. 

Unless…  The remnants…

Garaki found that he was very afraid. 

He replayed the video of the incident.  Mentally calculated the trajectory of All Might and the younger Midoriya.  Perhaps… perhaps rather than taking a phone call, he should be making one. 

.

“’S like Ragdoll,” explained Izuku, as the pair of One for All members limped through the forest.  “Shiretoko-san, I mean.”

“Mhm,” said Toshinori, lifting Izuku over a spot that would give his sprained and swollen ankle some difficulty. 

“Even though she can’t use Search anymore, there’s still remnants.  She can- She can keep track of a lot more objects at once.  Her organizational skills, visual acuity…  Some things have actually improved, now that she’s not using that part of her head.  The point is, not all of the support structures disappear when the quirk does.  And I think- I think not all of the quirk itself goes away, either.”

“I’m not sure I follow you on that part.”

“It’s—It’s a, um.  All for One, I think, physically, obviously, there has to be psionic component as well, the way it works is by destructively copying the quirk and the quirk factor of the target individual.  It’s like—Like if there was a copier in a shredder?  I guess?  Can’t copy without destroying the original.  But, yeah.  There has to be a mental component.  So, my—So, what, I mean, I mean what I—Hmmnnng.”

“My boy?”

“My head hurts.”  He swiped ineffectively at his sluggishly bleeding nose. 

Toshinori pressed his lips together, concerned.  Izuku rarely admitted to feeling pain, no matter how beaten up he was.  This must be serious. 

“We have some painkillers,” said Toshinori. 

“No,” said Izuku.  “I’m okay.  What was I-?  I was saying…  Quirks.  My quirk when he—There’s still remnants, and the emergent behavior—” He took a deep, shuddering breath.  “The bits left behind when he took my quirk, with One for All—assuming that’s what happened, and they’re not wrong—they let me access the past users’ quirks, and also since Saito-san’s quirk seems to interact with quirk ghosts, at least partially, it can use that to pick up Aizawa-sensei’s quirk.  Probably could get the others’ as well, although I’m less confident about mutant quirks like Iida’s.”

For a moment, they let the conversation lapse. 

“I think we’re handling these revelations very well,” opined Toshinori. 

“I know, right?”  Izuku giggled like someone at the edge of a very tall cliff.  “Anyway, One for All uses more of a passive copying mechanism, but I’d guess there’s something wrong with its writing mechanism, unless the stockpile quirk just takes up all its time, or something, or there was a problem with interpretation?  Or, or!  The others are wrong about me ever having a quirk, and it’s really just One for All finally processing and writing in the other quirks.  Maybe because I’m genetically closer to One than any of the others?” Izuku’s breath caught.

“Izuku?”

“Toshinori,” he whined, “it hurts…”

“What does?”

“Everything,” said Izuku.  “My head.  My eyes.”  He’d mostly relied on Toshinori’s vision while navigating through the forest.  Since using Aizawa-sensei’s quirk, he’d barely opened his eyes. 

“We’ve made some distance since we landed,” said Toshinori.  “Why don’t we rest for a little while?”

“We can’t,” protested Izuku.  “We’re still too close.”

“Izuku, you’re suffering from quirk exhaustion.”

“Oh,” said Izuku.  “Oh.  I guess I never felt—Never felt it before?  Because I’d just break my bones first.”

Toshinori visibly cringed.  “If I understand what you just said correctly,” he said, taking Izuku by the shoulders and guiding him gently towards a fallen tree, “what you did back there with young Aizawa’s quirk was akin to running a race with a broken leg.”

“W-well, I mean, only if—only if—they’re right about it being my quirk.  And n-not just something One for All can do.”

“Mm,” said Toshinori, dubiously.  “Even then, it isn’t something quite natural for you, is it?  And this right after receiving Float.”

“It,” said Izuku, frowning, and letting himself be directed.  “Actually, it felt…  Good?  Right before it started hurting.  Like… satisfying, almost?  Like when I used One for All for the first time…  Well, before I realized all my bones were broken.”

“It wasn’t quite all of them, was it?”

Izuku shrugged.  He blinked slowly as he sat down on the log.  “It’s cold.”

“It is December,” said Toshinori, unzipping his coat.  “Let me see here, I had some winter clothing for you in here somewhere…  and we should take a better look at your ankle.”  He sat down next to Izuku, who immediately leaned towards him, not quite touching. 

On impulse, Toshinori wrapped the open edge of the coat around Izuku, pulling him close.    

Izuku rested his head against Toshinori’s chest and brought up his knees to hug them.  “This’s warm,” he mumbled. 

“How about,” said Toshinori, “you just rest for a few minutes.  Then we can sort everything else out.”

“Okay…”

.

“Well,” said Recovery Girl, entering the conference room the hospital had lent them, “no one is in any danger of dying.”

“But?” said Hitoshi, bracing himself for bad news. 

“No but.  They’re all fine, beyond not waking up, but you all already knew that.  So.”  She hopped into a seat at the table they’d all squeezed around.  “What have you found out?”

She directed the question to Hizashi, who had his head in his hands, his elaborately styled hair almost hitting Jirou and Kaminari, who were seated across from him. 

“Midoriya has a sentient quirk and no one bothered to mention it.”

“I’m not sure Midori knew,” said Tsuyu.  “It does seem like something he’d mention.”

“I don’t know,” said Kaminari.  “He’s, like, weirdly cagey about his quirk.”

Tokoyami crossed his arms.  “Hm.  He may have been hiding it.  Possession of a sentient quirk casts one into the shadow of the commission’s regard.”

“Huh?”

“People with sentient quirks are monitored by the Hero Commission,” said Hitoshi.  “Just like people with ‘villainous’ quirks. 

“He was not hiding, mes amis,” said Aoyama.  “That’s absurd!  He was simply a late bloomer, like myself.”

“Does it really matter if he knew or not?” asked Jirou.  “Everyone has stuff they’d rather not tell other people.”

“She’s right,” said Kayama-sensei. 

“Well,” said Yaoyorzu, “we’re going to try to help him, aren’t we?”

There was a murmur of agreement.

“But how?”

“Overthrow the government?” suggested Jirou. 

“Start a social media campaign?” said Kaminari, at the same time. 

They looked at each other. 

“And you call yourself an anarchist,” scoffed Jirou. 

“In my defense, I have never once called myself an anarchist.”

“As much as I like the idea of overthrowing the government, the social media idea is probably more doable,” said Hitoshi.  “I mean, there’s only fourteen of us here.  What are we going to do against the government?”

“As much as I hate to say it,” said Kayama-sensei, “we do have more resources than just the people in this room.  Like the person who sent us to extract you in the first place.”

“You mean,” said Shouji, voice hushed, “the rat god?”

Kayama-sensei blanched.  “Where did you hear that?”

All the students, including Hitoshi, pointed at Hizashi, because, really, she should have known that.  Actually, wait, one of them hadn’t and had instead buried his face in his hands.  That was… Kouda.  Yeah.  Kouda. 

“What’s up with him?” asked Hitoshi. 

Mineta snickered.  A baleful collective glare was turned on him. 

“What?” he whined. 

Aoyama sighed.  “Midoriya once asked him if he could control our fantabulous Principal Nezu, since Principal Nezu is technically an animal.”

“Ever since then,” continued Yaoyorozu, “he has a crisis whenever the principal is brought up.”

“Man,” said Kaminari, nodding in Hitoshi’s direction, “I bet that if Midoriya was here, he’d be asking you if you could control Principal Nezu, since he’s not human.”

… That was a good question. 

“Speaking of Midoriya,” said Satou, as if they hadn’t been doing exactly that all along, “I don’t think we can overthrow the government without him.  He’s our plan guy, usually.”

“Even with Nezu?” asked Hizashi. 

The members of class 1-A seemed thoughtful.

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Mineta, “we’re serious about that?  I thought it was a joke.”

“Okay,” said Yaoyorozu, “perhaps we should discuss our other options first.”

“Oh!” said Aoyama.  “We could become vigilantes!”

“What…  What would be the point of that?” asked Hitoshi. 

Aoyama did not have an answer. 

Hizashi’s phone started ringing.  “Oh, no,” he said, “it’s him.  Does he know I’ve been calling him the rat god behind his back?”

“Probably,” said Kayama-sensei, “but I don’t think that’s what this is about.”

Hizashi answered his phone.  “Heeeeeyyyyyy, Principal Nezu, what-?  Oh!  Oh, yeah, yeah, we were planning on that, but we weren’t sure—yeah, yeah, I’ll tell them, and –” He went pale.  “You already knew about that, huh?  Haha, yeah, yep, okay, okay.  See you soon?”  He cringed as he hung up.  “He wants us all back at school before the commission decides to interrogate us.  Also, he said to check the news.”

“It’s just going to be more slander of Midoriya,” said Jirou, looking at her own phone, “why both—Oh.”

“Still can’t believe they think Midoriya kidnapped All Might,” mumbled one of Shouji’s free mouth hands as Hitoshi unlocked his own phone. 

“I know.  Do you remember when he came into the cafeteria to ask Midoriya to eat lunch with him?” asked Kaminari.

“Which time?” asked Dark Shadow, cackling. 

“It was cute, kero,” said Asui.  “I have pictures.”

“We can use those for the social media campaign!”

Hitoshi’s news app loaded.  He looked up and met Jirou’s eyes.  Judging by her pale face, what he’d seen wasn’t a hallucination. 

.

“Am I a dog, a mouse, or a bear?” chirped Nezu as he answered his phone.  “One thing’s for sure, I’m Principal Nezu?  How can I help you, Mr. Hero Commission President?”

“I’m sure you’re following the news,” said the president.

“Of course,” said Nezu, patting Eri’s head.  She’d been staring at his phone like a predator faced with prey since he answered.  They had, indeed, been watching the news. 

“We need Midoriya Izuku’s medical records and the blood sample you have from him. You should have it ready by the time our investigators arrive.”

“Oh?  Investigators?”

“To search Midoriya Izuku’s personal effects for clues.  You should also prepare Chisaki Eri, Togata Mirio, and the teachers involved in Midoriya Izuku’s education for questioning.”

“Thank you for giving me a heads up, Mr. President.”

There was a suspicious silence on the other end of the line.  “What are you planning?”

“Nothing at all!”

“You aren’t going to win this fight.”

“What fight, Mr. President?  Aren’t we both on the side of heroes?”

“If you get in our way, I will make sure your precious school goes down with Midoriya.”

“Oh-ho!  Is that a threat, Mr. President?”

“A promise.  Public opinion isn’t something you can think your way out of, and UA has been on thin ice since the attack on the USJ.”

“I see,” said Nezu, fighting against the urge to bare his teeth and snarl.  “In any case, I will not stand in the way of the law.”

“Good.”

 The line went dead.  “Oh, dear,” said Nezu.  “He really doesn’t understand me at all.”

“What areya going to do?” asked Eri. 

“Follow the law,” said Nezu. 

Eri scowled.

“Bothering by the book, sir?” asked Togata, who had been hiding in Aizawa’s kitchen, baking. 

“Oh, yes.  The good heroes who were here earlier had the authority to request a piece of Midoriya-kun’s clothing, but what Mr. Hero Commission President is asking for is quite different.” 

“How?” asked Eri. 

“They need certain forms and paperwork in order to force me to do so much as let them in the front gate.  Which cannot, of course, be opened to outsiders by teachers without my express permission.  And if I am involved in an emergency involving one of my wards at the time…”

“That’s me!” said Eri, bouncing on the couch. 

“Indeed, it is.”

“So,” she said, “I’ve got to be an em-er-gen-cy?” she asked, carefully sounding out the word.”

“You don’t need to do anything,” said Nezu, “except say that I was occupied with you when the commission representatives arrived.”

Eri nodded very seriously.  “Can we watch Deku kick the bad guy again?”

Nezu chortled. 

“Did I say something funny?” asked Eri, her face pinching again. 

“Not at all, not at all.  I’m just imagining how others might react to you calling Hawks a bad guy.”

“He’s fighting Deku, so he’s a bad guy.”

“Immaculate logic, young lady,” said Nezu, patting Eri on the head. 

.

Izuku walked through Nana’s misty memories, searching for her and Suzuki. 

Hopefully, Nana hadn’t reached through the dream to kill the guy in real life.  He didn’t like Suzuki.  In fact, he pretty much hated him.  But murder was still, well, murder. 

He had some things to talk to Nana about. 

The far more comprehensive connection he currently had to One for All, thanks to Saito-san’s quirk, meant that he knew far more than he usually did, about One for All, the others, All for One, and even himself.  Enough that he was twitching for his notebook and pencil, because he was afraid he would forget once the quirk wore off. 

One of the things he knew now was that One for All had usability adaptations.  Little things that tweaked the user’s body and subconscious in such a way that made the quirk actually viable.  Required secondary powers, to use an older term. 

A common one was the heat and burn resistance most fire users had.  Bakugou had lighters in his palms to set his sweat off.  Tokoyami had amazing night vision.  Hagakure was resistant to cancer. 

One for All read the DNA of potential recipients, to see if they could handle the quirk.  One couldn’t go shoving quirks into random people all willy-nilly, even if the quirk in question was One for All.  That’s why the noumu were so messed up.  All for One didn’t have that compatibility-checking adaptation. 

But since compatibility here was a function of both mentality and DNA…  that meant…

“Were you ever going to tell me that we’re all related?” he asked Nana.  “Speaking of which.”  He pointed at the memory-shade of a young Gran Torino.  “How is it that everyone I’m related to is so tall?  Why are Mom and I midgets?  And where did the green hair come from?  I’m having a crisis.”

Nana chuckled, but it was a sad sound.  “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, kiddo.”

(The effect would have been better if her boots weren’t stained with blood.)

“Okay, but seriously,” said Izuku, sitting on the railing next to Nana.  They watched the memory play out.  “You guys all knew.  Why didn’t you say anything?  I think Toshinori’d be happy to be related to you, even if it’s only tangentially.”

“But would he be happy with the other part?”

“Huh?”

“Being related to him.”

“I think he’d overlook that.  I mean, One was related to him, too.  So it doesn’t really matter.  And I’m…”  He faltered.  They had yet to confront this particular thing. 

“You should talk to One and Four,” suggested Nana, gently.  “Their perspective is probably closest to yours.”

“Will I have time?”

“As long as we’re with you, eventually,” said Nana.  “This,” she gestured at the dreamscape, “changes things.  You know this feeling, now.  You won’t forget.”

Izuku nodded.  “Should I call you grandma, now?”

“That makes me feel old.”

“You are old.”

“Ouch, kid.  But sure.”

“That aside, I do want to know where the green hair comes from.”

Nana sighed.  “It’s from me.  I used to dye my hair.  Then I got a stylist to permanently change it with a quirk.”

“But… why?”

Nana slumped sideways.  “The kids at my school…  They were always saying, ‘Oh, Nana, you’re so green.  Just like your name.  Green Vegetable Nana.”

“Name related trauma is something we have in common.”

“Unfortunately.”

“So.  Suzuki.”

“Under that rock.”  She pointed to a massive boulder. 

Izuku sighed.  “What are we going to do with him?”

“Your call,” said Nana. 

“Does it have to be?”

.

Gigantomachia shrugged dirt and trees from his shoulders and sniffed the air.  The radio around his neck crackled as the doctor stopped transmitting.  This, he decided, catching the scent of the Little Lord, was a joyful day. 

Only once before had he received the privilege of smelling this scent.  That day was eternally carved into his memory.  The Little Lord had been so small, but so smart!  So cunning!  So much better than Shigaraki Tomura!

Machia wondered if he would still be small, or if he had grown up to be as big as Lord!  Or even Machia!

Probably, he would not be as big as Machia.  Still!

How wonderful! 

Machia wondered if the Little Lord would smile at him again.  That had been nice. 

Chapter Text

“So,” said Ochako.  “Do we open the door, or…?”

The door was unassuming and bland.  Very… doorlike.  It was also the only way forward unless they wanted to backtrack several hundred feet. 

Incidentally, no one was standing directly in front of the door.  Ochako wondered if that was a coincidence, or if they were all just that wary of things after these past few hours. 

Aizawa sighed heavily and hauled open the door.  It was dark inside, with a single spotlight illuminating a small sign that said, ‘This way to 5.’

“That’s suspicious!” said Iida. 

“So it is,” agreed Aizawa, squinting into the dark.  “I’ll go.”

Walked to the sign, and the rest of them tensed, ready to jump in to help at any sign of danger.  The lights suddenly turned on, and music began to blare.  A large television screen played a video of a dancing man. 

“A rickroll,” said Todoroki, reverently. 

If Aizawa’s sigh had been any heavier, it would have had its own gravitational pull. 

“Yeah,” said Six, voice as emotionless as ever.  “Great job, everyone, you got here.”

“Was that really necessary?”

“What?” asked Six. 

“The music,” said Aizawa. 

“Consider it a practical demonstration,” said Six.  “The farther in you go, the older we are, and the more experience we have with this kind of landscape.”  He ran his hand over the sign, and Ochako gasped as patterns and colors followed his fingers.

“You’re younger than Skyrunner or All Might, though,” said Ochako.  “You’re the same age as Aizawa-sensei.”

“Well, yes, but actually no,” said Six.  “I was here before they were.  I’m older.”

Ochako’s senses, honed by months living in a building with nineteen other teenagers, detected an opportunity for teasing.  She pressed her hand to her lips and put on her slyest smile.  “Are you?  Reaaaally?”

“Memes,” said Todoroki, nodding gravely. 

“I can see why Nine likes you so much.”

.

Six grabbed Aizawa’s sleeve preventing him from moving on with the others. 

“If you’re trying to keep me away from my kids, I suggest you don’t.”

Six raised an eyebrow.  “Your kids, huh?  You know, we had a bet running about that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Anyway, I wanted you to hear this, first.  You can decide if you want to tell them, after, but they are Nine’s friends.  I don’t want to be responsible for them running off on their own without your knowledge.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me something that could help Midoriya but will be incredibly dangerous.”

“Are you sure your secondary quirk isn’t precognition?”

“I am saving my crisis about that until we get out of here.  This waste of time is illogical.”

“Right.  So.  Remember when I said that Nine didn’t get to choose who we were?”  He gestured at himself. 

“Yes,” said Aizawa, already hating where this was going. 

“There’s someone who we don’t count as one of our number.”

Now Aizawa really didn’t like where this was going.  “You mean, you’ll count terrorists, but not… this person.”

“Yeah.  Usually, we keep him locked away, but with all this disruption…”

“He’s gotten out.”

“Not yet.  What I’m telling you now may not be relevant at all.  But if that door does open, I want you to have this option.  Not all the others agree the risk is worth it, but I think that should be up to you, since you’d be the one taking it.”

“What option?”

“That person, he took something from Nine, back when his quirk first manifested.  You know all the guys you ran into back when you were in his mind space?  He took one of those.  I think, and most of the others agree, that it would be beneficial if he got it back.”

“He took part of Midoriya’s personality.”

“Yes, you can think about it that way.”

“That part wouldn’t happen to be something like self-preservation, common sense, or grudge-holding, would it?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

“When you reach One, if you want to try to get it back for Nine, ask One if the vault it open.”

“Exactly how dangerous would this be.”

“Horribly.  But you probably wouldn’t die.  This quirk comes with a time limit.  Otherwise, we wouldn’t ask at all.”  Six let go of Aizawa’s sleeve.  “Your students are waiting for you.  You should go.”

Aizawa stepped into the dark.  A battle strobed against the darkness.  No, two.  One with Six and a man who must be Five, and another with Six and Shimura Nana.  Both battles were against a darkness whose silhouette resembled the monster of Kamino Ward far too much for Aizawa’s comfort. 

“You’re next!” shouted two overlapping voices. 

Aizawa blinked.  He was in a well-lit street, looking at what could only be the so-called Five.

.

Izuku woke up slowly.  Being asleep had kept some of the pain at arm’s length, but now it returned with a vengeance, along with an oddly comforting pressure. 

Oh, Toshinori had fallen asleep wrapped around him.  That was nice.  They really should start moving again, though. 

The ground rumbled, and Izuku realized what had woken him up. 

“Toshinori,” he said, shaking him the best he could from his position.  “Wake up.  There’s an earthquake.”

Toshinori blinked awake.  “Did you call me Dad?”

“No?”

“Back in the city?”

“Um.  Earthquake.  What do we… uh, do?”  He didn’t know what the earthquake drill for the middle of the forest was.  Four had, but Izuku was having trouble understanding him over the pounding in his head. 

“It isn’t shaking anymore,” observed Toshinori.  “We should probably still go.”  He rubbed his eyes.  “Let’s get you patched up first.  I can’t believe I fell asleep without making sure you were alright…”

“I’m fine,” protested Izuku, trying to stand up.  He could just keep using Blackwhip to stabilize—

The space behind his eyes turned white.  When it became clear again, he found himself pressed against Toshinori’s shirt. 

“Toshinori,” he whined, because he couldn’t help it, and, oh, no, he was such a burden he shouldn’t be making Toshinori hold his weight, he was a lot heavier than he looked, but his head was pounding and his eyes felt like they were bleeding and his skin felt like sandpaper, “it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” said Toshinori.  “Let me take care of you, please?”

Toshinori lowered him back to the log and started to remove medical supplies from the pockets of his coat. 

“What are we going to do after this?” asked Izuku, voice as quiet as he could make it without whispering. 

“That is an excellent question, my boy,” said Toshinori in an imitation of his usual heartiness.  “As you might imagine, I’ve acquired a number of contacts over the years.  Some of them are comfortable with, ah, less than legal escapades.”

“I didn’t think you had any friends other than Detective Tsukauchi and Mr. Shield.  And maybe Gran.”

Toshinori hunched his shoulders.  Izuku immediately felt bad. 

“Well, you aren’t wrong.  Contacts and friends are in two different categories, I’m afraid.  In any case, I’m hoping to eventually reach one of them, and then…”  He trailed off, and Izuku got the sense that Toshinori was bracing himself for Izuku being upset.  “I am hoping to arrange passage to I-Island.”

“We’re leaving Japan?”

“Just until we get this cleared up,” said Toshinori. 

Izuku rubbed his eyes.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.  “What about Shigaraki and All for One?”

“Not your responsibility,” said Toshinori. 

“It kind of is.”

“It really isn’t.”

“It’s our family.”

“I know.  At least, I know now.  Goodness.  I don’t think I’ve wrapped my head around it, yet.”  Toshinori rubbed his temples with his wrists, keeping his dirty fingers well away from his eyes. 

“What about before that?” asked Izuku, guiltily changing his line of questioning. 

“I have a few other safe houses around here.  Funny story about one of them.  Completely abandoned building on public land.  Was being used by some anti-mutant cult.  No one ever came to check it out after the initial arrest.  So.  Finders keepers.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“All Might,” said Izuku, suppressing a giggle despite the seriousness of the situation, “that’s illegal.”

“I have done a surprisingly large number of illegal things in my life.  Comes from fighting with a centuries-old monster the government doesn’t want to acknowledge as existing.”

“They’ve acknowledged him now,” observed Izuku. 

“Hasn’t seemed to help much, has it?  Anyway, that one shouldn’t be too far from here.  Probably.  It will still be quite a walk.  We’ll stay there, for a while.  Until I can reach one of my contacts.”  Toshinori sighed.  “I think the one in Deika will be out best bet.  He works in the shipping industry.  I’ll have to introduce you, just in case we end up separated.”

Izuku pretended the last sentence didn’t send him into a spiral of panic. 

Of course, this spiral of panic was interrupted by an entirely different panic, because the ground started to shake again. 

“I can Float us—”

“Don’t, you’ll hurt yourself,” said Toshinori, keeping a tight grip around Izuku’s bicep. 

Toshinori’s hands were extremely large.  A tree crashed to the ground in the distance.  Accompanying that sound was a roar too loud and animal to be completely human, but too coherent to not be human. 

Toshinori went pale. 

“Someone you know?” asked Izuku, covering his ears to keep the sound from battering his brain any further. 

“We need to go,” said Toshinori, bundling up all the supplies he’d taken out.  “We need to go right now.”

“All for One?” whispered Izuku, getting to his feet.  “A gigantification quirk?”

“One of his subordinates,” said Toshinori.  “One I never managed to find.  I’d hoped—Of all the luck—” He started cursing under his breath in English. 

Maybe Izuku really did have a villain-attracting quirk. 

The shaking of the ground grew stronger.  “Run,” said Toshinori.  “Don’t look back for me.”  Toshinori had to know that wouldn’t fly (or float) with Izuku, because a second later his face twisted up in something like resignation. 

Izuku grabbed Toshinori’s wrist.  He could Float them both out of here. 

Blinding pain lanced through his brain again. 

Okay, maybe he couldn’t. 

The ground in front of them erupted.  A craggy giant burst up from below. 

“Little Lord!” the giant shouted, voice more than loud enough to hurt.  A massive hand picked Izuku up, holding him gently but extremely firmly.  “I’m SO HAPPY to see you again!”

Something clicked in the back of Izuku’s head.  A memory he didn’t know he had resurfaced. 

“H-Hi, Machia,” he said. 

“Did this bald man kidnap you?!  He smells like All Might!  But All Might is yellow.  Should I kill him?”

“No,” said Izuku.  “He’s definitely not All Might.  He’s, uh, a friend.”

“HELLO LITTLE LORD’S FRIEND.”

“Hello,” said Toshinori, waving a little, clearly in shock. 

Machia shifted to wave at Toshinori and Izuku hissed as the movement jostled his injuries.  His minor injuries.  His very minor injuries that weren’t bothering him at all. 

Who do you think you’re kidding, kiddo?

Not helping, Grandma. 

“Little Lord!  Are you hurt?”  Machia sniffed him.  “You smell like blood!  I have to bring you to the doctor!”

“The what?” asked Izuku, alarmed.

“Don’t worry, Little Lord!  He is a very good doctor!  We must go!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Izuku, before Machia could get more than three humongous steps away from Toshinori.  “It isn’t my blood, it’s the blood of my enemies!”

“Lord tried that one, too, Little Lord!”

“But—”

“Oh!  I forgot your friend!”  Machia turned around.  “Sorry, Little Lord’s friend!”  He picked up an increasingly distressed Toshinori and continued stomping through the forest. 

Izuku realized that Machia was headed back towards town. 

“Wait!” he shouted, despite not having a plan for what to do next.

“Wait?” repeated Machia, balancing on one foot. 

Thankfully, Izuku’s brain churned out a plan.  “My friend here,” said Izuku, gesturing at Toshinori, “has a house nearby.  It would be better if we went there, and then the doctor can come to us.”

Machia grinned, which was honestly an unsettling sight.  “You’re just like Lord, Little Lord!  Always making plans.”  He brought Izuku up to his face, close enough that Izuku could feel his (oddly minty-fresh) breath and bonked the top of his head with his nose. 

“Do you brush your teeth, or do you have a quirk for that?” asked Izuku before he could think better of it. 

“Lord gave me a tooth-brushing quirk!  He said he was tired of smelling my morning breath.  I do not know why he said that, because it was night.  But he gave this quirk to me!  It was very generous of Lord.” said Machia, delighted.  “How did you know?”

Izuku decided not to go down the rabbit-hole of his reasoning and shrugged.  “Lucky guess?”

Machia laughed.  “Lord says that, too, sometimes!  I am very glad to see you, Little Lord.  I have missed my Lord very much, and you are just like him!”

Seven vaguely annoyed and insulted ghosts buzzed in the back of Izuku’s head. 

“I am also glad that you did not grow up to be as big as me!  You would be much harder to carry if you did.”

Apparently Izuku was not the only one with a propensity for rabbit-hole thoughts, because he could not imagine a scenario where it would be reasonable to expect him to grow to be as big as Machia.

“So,” he said, “you’ll take us to my friend’s house?”

“Yes, Little Lord!  And then we can call the doctor, and he will take care of you!”

Izuku didn’t think Machia meant to be ominous, and yet. 

.

“So,” said Aizawa, surveying the man up and down.  “You’re the one that decided the best place for my student to develop an unstable, highly dangerous, and painful quirk was the middle of a high-adrenaline training exercise full of other students.”

“Hey,” said the man, scratching the back of his head, “no one got hurt, and when you’ve been dead as long as I have, you start looking for entertainment wherever you can get it.  Besides, you’re the one that let the training exercise keep going.”

“According to your compatriot back there,” Aizawa said, hooking a finger over his shoulder, “you haven’t been dead at all.”

Five jolted and ran his knuckles over his bandoleer.  “Yeah, it’s easy to forget.”

It was great to know that Five was trash at lying.  True, he’d been told up front that Six’s explanation would be at least partially false, but still. 

Aizawa sighed. 

Five, who’d also introduced himself as Lariat and Banjo Daigoro, appeared to be a fairly typical hero for his era.  Minimal hero costume repurposed from military gear, worn with just a bit of flair, indicating that the celebrity status of heroes probably hadn’t fully set in yet.  Ammunition for a sidearm, although the sidearm itself was well hidden.  The gun was probably bulky, but if Aizawa didn’t miss his mark, those were stun rounds.  Eye protection, but not head protection.  Not that Aizawa could complain about that, considering.

“Anyhow, if you’re all here, let’s go.”  The man clapped his hands together, activated his quirk, and proceeded to fling Aizawa and his students through the air, without warning. 

“Sorry ‘bout this!” said Five.  “But we don’t have time for the whole history lesson!  Just the highlights!”

Brief battles flared to life around them as Five dashed sideways along skyscraper walls and swung from building to building. 

“I always thought of myself as a sort of Spider Man, y’know?”

“I don’t know that hero, sir!” shouted Iida over the whistling wind. 

“Pre-quirk comic book character,” explained Five.  “Most of ‘em got censored after the first quirk boom.  Didn’t want to give anyone ideas.  But by my time, with the pro hero scene starting up, they came back in a big way!”  Five landed in front of a large convention center.  “This’s where they held the first Modern Comic Convention in Japan.  Or ModiComiCon for short.”

“And we couldn’t walk here, because?” asked Aizawa, suppressing an increasing urge to commit murder. 

“I thought my way was more fun,” said Five.  “Haven’t you always wanted to travel like that?”

Aizawa tugged on his scarf.  “I do.  Frequently.  Under my own power.”

“Another Aizawa-sensei,” decided Todoroki, quiet but decisive.  “Aizawa-sensei, but… funkier.”

That did it.  Once this was over, he was expelling all the problem children and taking a vacation.  The Rat God could find a sub.

“This is where I met Four the first time,” said Five, pushing the doors open.  The auditorium was filled with rows upon rows of booths.  All empty of people of course.

Aizawa, grudgingly, followed. 

First contact. 

Those voices…  Something about them…  The number. 

“Those are your voices,” said Aizawa. 

“Yep!” said Five.  “It’s a special moment, you know?”

Aizawa frowned.  At this point, he highly doubted that these ‘vestiges’ were simply based on real people.  The vestiges themselves had to have reason to suspect that they were at least remnants of real people to give themselves a name like that, and with All Might thrown into the mix… 

Add to that the repeated themes, the oddly ritualistic components (First contact and you’re next), Midoriya’s closeness with All Might, and Aizawa got—

Honestly, he had no idea.  The fact that All Might was still alive tended to rule out the ‘Midoriya’s quirk is that he’s haunted’ theory, which, admittedly, was rather flimsy to begin with.  Perhaps it was a legacy-dependent quirk, reaching back from student to teacher?  He would be skeptical—Most quirks had some kind of logic to them, and there was no way to extrapolate entire people from contact with their successor—but Vlad King had a student whose head was a manga speech bubble and other abstract quirks existed.  So. 

It still didn’t feel right.  Surely, Midoriya would have figured out his quirk before he was fourteen in that case.  Unless All Might had to be involved for some reason. 

Also, the fact that they called Midoriya Nine.  Six’s explanation for that didn’t even make a little bit of sense. 

Not to even mention the hints that All for One actually was involved in this somehow. 

“Banjo-san,” said Aizawa, “there’s no truth in the commission’s accusations, is there?”  He could have asked Six, but logically, Six would be the best liar, if he was the one chosen to relay the lie.  Banjo Daigoro seemed rather less adept at deception. 

The world seemed to gray out a bit.  “Are you kidding me?  What part?” asked Five, his eyebrows disappearing under his goggles.

“Yeah, sensei, there’s no way Izuku-k—”

“I’m not asking about Midoriya.  I’m asking about you.  How are you connected to All for One?”

Five opened his mouth, lips drawing back to reveal his teeth.  He looked unspeakably offended.  “You don’t think we actually work for that bastard—”

“Excuse me, sir!” interrupted Iida after Five had tacked on several rather fouler epithets.  “There are minors present!”

“Oops,” said Five.  “Anyway, we do not work for All for One,” he continued, failing to answer the question Aizawa had asked. 

“That isn’t what he asked,” said Todoroki. 

Alright.  Maybe Todoroki wasn’t all bad.  He was still on thin ice. 

“Excuse me, is this a bad time?”

Aizawa nearly jumped out of his skin as a terrifyingly tall man in a hero costume appeared at the edge of his peripheral vision.  He was taller than Yagi. 

Actually, wait.  Aizawa’s expert eyes roamed over the man’s hero costume.  That was cosplay, not professionally done.  The man was standing there, in Midoriya’s head, in front of two professional heroes, wearing cosplay.  It looked like it had been hand-sewn. 

It also looked like it had been used.  And inexpertly reinforced.  Even for a vigilante.

Somehow, in retrospect, this made Midoriya’s choice to wear a costume his mother had made for him for his first training session make much more sense. 

Of course, Midoriya would have someone as ridiculous as he was in his head.  Of course, he would have several people as ridiculous as he was in his head.

“Four, I presume.”

“I prefer Shimura, actually.”

“Oh!” said Uraraka.  “Are you related to Skyrunner?”

“She’s my adopted sister’s descendant,” said Shimura/Four. 

“Hey, hey, I thought we weren’t telling them this stuff,” said Five. 

Shimura blinked.  “My apologies.”  He paused.  “However, considering the structure of my mental domain, it is likely that they would have discovered my chosen name in short order.”

“Who do you think he’s based on?” asked Iida, leaning towards Todoroki. 

“I can’t put my finger on it,” said Todoroki, “but he does feel familiar.”

“And why is that?” asked Aizawa, pretending he couldn’t hear his students. 

“I have a lot of unresolved trauma relating to my biological parents and also my quirk.”

“Ohhhh,” said Todoroki.  “He’s based on me.”

Wow.  Another horrible thing Aizawa would have to deal with when he woke up. 

“Isn’t your quirk Danger Sense?”

“That’s what Five-chan calls it.”

There was something extremely disturbing about this tall, intimidating, eyebrowless man calling another muscular intimidating adult man chan. 

“But I call it—”

“Please don’t—” interjected Five.

“—super anxiety.”

“Why?” cried Five.  “Danger Sense is a much better name!  It’s like Spidey Sense!  Like Spider Man!  You like Spider Man.”

“Yes,” said Shimura, “but I am not Spider Man.  However, that reminds me.”  He turned his unblinking gaze towards Todoroki.  “Nine-chan has several plans for removing your father.  I believe only about half of them are workable, but it’s the thought that counts.  At least, that’s what Yagi-chan says.”

“You mean All Might?” asked Aizawa.  If his soul hadn’t already left his body, it would now be preparing to do so.

“No, my wife.”

“Yeah, don’t think about it too hard,” said Five.  “He’s always been like this.  I mean, he came up to me in the middle of this convention to tell me about a bunch of underworld deals going on out of town.  I thought he was, like, some especially serious cosplayer, but then he showed up at my apartment, too.”  The surroundings briefly shimmered into something that might have been the mentioned apartment before resolving themselves back into the comic convention.

“I apologize, I did not realize that was inappropriate.”

“I’m this little baby hero, just a couple years out of training, no name for myself, and this guy shows up like he’s in the middle of one of those old video games.  Like, ‘here, take this old legend and defeat the demon king, you level one peasant.’”

“I didn’t expect you to fight him right away,” said Four, looking both vaguely offended and confused, and now, yeah, okay, Aizawa could see a vague resemblance to Todoroki. 

“I’m still not entirely sure why you picked me, of all people.  There had to be a dozen others with the right, uh, requirements.”

“Requirements, huh?” asked Aizawa, having finally managed to shove the part of his brain screaming about the ‘wife’ comment into a tiny, locked box in the back of his brain.

“Yes.  As my other adoptive sister said, one must possess a strong will, an indomitable spirit, a sharp mind, a pure heart, and a ceaseless drive to save others, both body and soul.”  He paused for a moment.  “She also said something about being ‘just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing,’ but I believe that was a reference to the book she was reading at the time.  Her parentage was certainly known at that point.”

“Y’see?  I can never tell if this guy is serious or just pulling my leg.”

“Why would I pull your leg?  Do you need to pop it?”

“I’m beggin’ you, man, learn some idioms.”

“WAIT!” shouted Todoroki.  “Are you related to All Might?  Is he your secret love child?”

The silence stretched between them. 

“I don’t know what that is,” said Four.  “You keep asking Nine if he’s one of those.  What does it mean?  Is it a good thing?”

“ANYWAY,” said Five, loudly.  He attempted to prop his elbow on Four’s shoulder, but the height difference defeated him.  “Four and I had lots of semi-legal adventures—”

“No, we didn’t,” said Four.

“Became best friends—”

“My wife is my best friend.”

“Let me have this.”

“Have what?”

Five sighed.  “Okay, whatever.  Fine.  Can you cross them over here?”

“I think I’ll need the other one, unfortunately.”

“Why are you different, by the way?” asked Uraraka.  “The ones before stayed in their own mindscapes, it seemed.”

“Oh,” said Four.  “I’m having flashbacks.  Because of…”  He trailed off, then sighed.  “Flashbacks.”

Right.  Wonderful.  “We’re going to have to deal with your flashbacks, aren’t we?” Aizawa asked. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Four said.  “I apologize for my habit of oversharing.”

“This and that are two completely different things.”

“They seem like the same thing to me,” said Todoroki. 

“I am inclined to agree.  I also apologize for the things you may see.  I will attempt to keep you away from the more disturbing sections.”

“Great,” said Aizawa.  “Can we stop wasting time?”

“We aren’t really wasting time,” said Four.  “At the moment, dream time is compressed.  We’ve only been talking for…”  He tilted his head to the side.  “Perhaps a second, in terms of real-world time.”

“He’s right,” said Five, crossing his arms and nodding. 

“Seconds are still time,” said Aizawa, hoping they’d get the hint.

“I suppose—Oh.  You’re frustrated.  Apologies.  Neither of us have interacted with anyone but the others in…  Quite some time.  I fear our sense of hurry has been damaged.  Especially with how distracted we all are.”

“Why are you distracted, if you don’t mind us asking?” asked Iida. 

“Another unwanted guest is trying to get in and Nine and Ei—Nine managed to run into someone extremely dangerous.”

Eight.  These people had a ‘live’ connection to All Might, too, damn it, and the blond idiot was wherever Midoriya was.  Maybe that should have reassured him, somewhat, because even if All Might was retired, he was still All Might, but, by some dark magic, when All Might and Midoriya were placed in proximity to one another, they gained the ability to spawn problems that Aizawa had never even heard of before. 

Like this one.

“Our final meeting, then?”

“I believe that would be appropriate.”

Black tentacles exploded from Five, covering the space around them.  When they receded, they were in a different place.  Underground, if Aizawa didn’t miss his guess.  A safe house of some kind?

Flickering doppelgangers of Four and Five occupied the space. 

“Why didn’t you transport us like that before?” asked Todoroki.

“Had to take the long way the first time,” said Five.  “That lady’s quirk changed some of the rules.  You ready, Four?”

“Let it play out,” said Four, gazing at the static figures. 

“Your choice,” said Five, shrugging. 

The ‘real’ Five and Four abruptly vanished, and the doubles started moving. 

“I suspect this is the last time we will meet,” said an older Four to a younger Five.

“Huh?  Why’s that?” said Five, twisting in his chair so that his arms rested on the top of the back.

Four stared blankly at a wall.  “Everything is coming to a head, now.  I’ve chosen to put my faith in you and the new laws.”

“Huh?”

“The last push of the old era…  My big sister would scold me for trusting you.”

“Dude, you’re not making any sense.”

“My apologies.”  Four turned to look more directly at Five.  “The new quirk laws and the establishment of the Hero Commission are steps in the right direction, as evidenced by your existence.”

“Yeaaah, sure,” said Five.  “But what does that have to do with not seeing each other again?”

“They’re not enough,” said Four.  “Even now, certain existences cannot cry out for help.  What do you do, when you can’t turn off your quirk?”

“You’re not going to go terrorist on me here, are you?” asked Five, nervously.

“No.  I just want you to be aware,” said Four.  He tilted his head to the side.  “Whenever I go home, now, there’s danger on the horizon, and I can’t tell where it’s coming from.”

“Is it him?”

“No.  I don’t believe so.”  He sighed.  “I suspect it’s the Special Task Force, to be honest.”

“They were disbanded,” said Five.  “Any one of ‘em that didn’t get absorbed by the Hero Commission got let go.  Or, er, what’s the term?  Discharged.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” said Four.  “Perhaps this is simply paranoia.  I would certainly like it to be.”

“Look,” said Five.  “Maybe I can help.  You’ve never told me where y’all live, and—”

“Absolutely not.  I am quite certain that he is still monitoring me to some extent.  You do not want to be on his radar, Daigoro-chan.”

“Dude.  Why do you keep calling me that?”

“You haven’t told me to stop.”

Five sighed.  “I get it, I get it.  Just… let me know if there’s anything I can do.  I’m a hero for a reason.”

Four smiled faintly.  “I know,” he said.  “After all, I chose you.  Good luck, Daigoro-chan.  I think you’ll be able to do it.”  He started walking away, towards the door.

“You, too, old man.  Souma.”

Four stopped with his hand on the door. 

“I believe we will see each other again,” continued Five.  “Count on it!”

“In this life or the next,” agreed Four.  He opened the door.

.

As they crossed over from Five’s domain into Four’s, the dream around them did not shift seamlessly, staying in the same general location with only the details changing like it had for the others, but dissolved into something not quite like static and then blank whiteness before fading back in. 

They were standing in the middle of a battlefield, a ruined landscape.

Not the ruins of a city, though, which made this only more jarring.  For all that Shouto was only a teen, he’d seen his fill of city battles.  He was used to villain fights. 

The only time he’d seen this kind of devastation in a place like this had been at the forest training camp last summer.  He swallowed, eyes rolling over uprooted and burning trees, huge craters and ruts in the soil, and the rare bit of roofing and wall.  He realized, belatedly, that this must be the remains of a small, rural village. 

He stiffened at the sound of someone crying. 

“Over there,” said Uraraka, pointing. 

Shouto turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit hunched over one of corpses.  His face was shrouded in smoke. 

As he watched, he realized he wasn’t crying over a corpse.  The other man was still breathing, his eyes were still open. 

(It was hard to recognize Four’s face under all those injuries.)

He stepped forward, wondering if he should help, if he even could help.  His hand passed through the man’s shoulder with no resistance. 

“Shigaraki…” said the uninjured man.  “Shigaraki Hibiki, you foolish child…” 

Shouto wasn’t the only one to gasp.

“’S not my name an’more,” rasped the injured man, Four, Shouto realized now.  “’N they gottaway, din’ they?  ‘Sworth it…”

“What do you mean, it’s not your name?  Of course it’s your name.  It’s the one I gave you.  The one you should have been born with.  It’s your name.”

“M’name’s…”  The man on the ground panted. 

“Shh, shh, don’t talk, don’t talk Hibiki, I’m sorry I snapped.  Don’t worry, Daddy’s going to make it all better, son.  A healing quirk…”

“Name’s…” slurred the man.  “Shimura… Souma…  You…”  He took a deep, rattling breath.  “You don’t… own… me.  I’m…”  He made a sound that might have been a laugh.  “Free.” 

The scene began to go dark.  Before the last of the light was gone, the uninjured man spoke again.  “Shimura,” he hissed, voice promising violence, “was it?”

.

Yagi Toshinori was having the most surreal experience of his entire life.  Considering his life included that awful college party in America, the one where he learned that One for All did not mesh well with psilocybin, that was saying a lot. 

Here he was, riding on the shoulders of a man who had tried to kill him on the behalf of his worst enemy multiple times, alongside his student and successor, who was being called ‘Little Lord’ by the man carrying them.  They were having an admittedly fascinating conversation about the man’s quirks, multiple, one that Toshinori was only barely keeping up with.  Two of them were being actively hunted by the government. 

That is, Toshinori, the retired professional hero, and Izuku, the licensed hero student, were on the run from the government.  Not Gigantomachia, the mass-murdering minion of All for One, who was quite possibly the evilest man alive.

(And also, possibly Izuku’s father.  But no one wanted to think about that.)

(Not to mention all the things going on in their heads.)

(This level of connection to One for All was thrilling, but also incredibly strange.)

Oh.  And they were going to one of Toshinori’s safehouses.  With Gigantomachia.  True, Toshinori hadn’t been to this one in a while, but it was still a place that was supposed to be safe, hence safehouse, and Gigantomachia was decidedly not safe.

He was also going to be difficult to get rid of, because he had a sense enhancement quirk that let him track down individuals he was familiar with from miles away.  Toshinori knew this, because Gigantomachia was currently happily telling Izuku all about it.

Surreal. 

Izuku reached over and patted him on the shoulder. 

Ah, yes, this was only made more surreal by the fact that Toshinori could feel how much pain Izuku was in, but the boy hardly showed any of it.  It made him wonder.  How often was Izuku in pain and Toshinori did not see?

Izuku patted his shoulder again, this time in a way that suggested he really wanted a hug but couldn’t give him one because he was holding onto Gigantomachia and the logistics didn’t work out.

Oh, and there was the safehouse. 

Gigantomachia let them down a short distance from the building (he claimed not to want to get to close, because he’d accidentally knocked down buildings in the past, which Toshinori could easily believe). 

The building was in better repair than Toshinori had expected after his long absence.  He fished the spare key from its hiding spot and opened the door. 

The back entry was full of people wearing black robes and skull masks, all of whom were scrubbing at bloodstains on the floors and walls. 

Izuku fixed him with a disappointed stare.  “I thought you got rid of the cultists.”

Yes, he had thought so, too.  He had, in fact, worked quite hard at getting rid of them.

“You!” shouted a cultist, pointing.  “You’re with that filthy League of Villains!”

“You killed our brothers!”

“Mutant-lovers!”

“Run?” suggested Izuku.

“Run,” agreed Toshinori.

Chapter Text

“Where are you going?” demanded Shigaraki, scratching his neck in agitation. 

Touya Dabi looked lazily over his shoulder.  “I’ve got something to do in town.  Might as well avoid a second trip, right?  You all go on back.”

“Aw, Dabi, you’re ditching us?” asked Toga.

“Yup.  See you back at base.  Let me know if you manage to wear down the giant, ‘kay?”

“Wait, wait, does that mean—Does that mean he has a way to get out past all these guys unnoticed?  Pfft that guy doesn’t know anything!  What are you talking about?  You’re gonna get caught, Dabi!”

Dabi ignored Twice, just giving the League of Villains a lazy wave over his shoulder before making his way down off the roof via the fire escape. 

Yeah.  He had a way out.  More importantly, he had some curiosity to satisfy and chaos to sow.

Time to bother a certain little birdy…

.

Hawks was in the middle of directing the clean-up team when he got a text.  From a contact labeled ‘boyfriend.’ 

The person in question was not, in fact his boyfriend.  Why, then, did he have him labeled thusly?

Because the person calling him was, in fact, the villain he was milking for information, and that did not fit well into a contact list.  On top of being suspicious. 

(Oh, and he lived in anticipation of the moment someone noticed the name of the contact and reported it to the press, causing his expensive commission-funded PR team to drown in delusional fangirls.  It was the little things in life that made it worth living…)

(In his opinion, they deserved it for making him go through with that frankly traumatic series of photoshoots right after he turned eighteen.)

Hawks…  Considered ignoring the call.  Today, to be honest, had sucked.  He’d been informed the former #1 hero had been kidnapped, ordered to hunt down a (questionably innocent) teenager, and lost a fight with said teenager.  Adding pretend terrorism to that might just be the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Except…  People’s lives depended on the intelligence he was collecting.  He retreated to the shadows of a nearby alley and answered the phone. 

“I’m sort of busy right now,” he said. 

“Yeah?  Busy getting your teeth kicked in by All Might Junior?” Dabi cackled. 

“If you called just to make fun of me, I’m hanging up.”

“Do you really think I’m that petty?”

“Yes,” said Hawks. 

“Aww, that burns, chicken wing.  What if I told you I had a tip?”

“Oh, yeah?” asked Hawks.  “About what?”

“C’mon, you know you have to pay for it.”

Hawks covered the phone receiver while he sighed.  “What do you want?” he asked, more composed. 

“Just a ride out of town.  Didn’t think you guys would be this antsy today.  Did the kid kick your hill over, too?”

If Hawks had been religious, he’d be praying for patience. 

“Just you, or are your friends here, too?” asked Hawks as he tapped in a Heronet request for everyone to be on the lookout for the league of villains on his other phone.  “I can give everyone a ride.”

“Nah, just l’il ol’ me,” said Dabi. 

Yeah.  Hawks hadn’t expected Dabi to own up to his crew being in town.  Even if they were. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Hawks, texting the hero commission.  Maybe they’d see fit to cut their losses as far as the spy gig went and—Nope, they were approving his request regarding Dabi.  “What about that tip?”

“Here’s half of it,” said Dabi.  “Get your guys to scrape some of the runt’s blood off the sidewalk and run a DNA test on it.  I hear he’s related to someone interesting.”

Hawks closed his eyes.  If Midoriya was related to All for One, it would be the metaphorical nail in the coffin for him.  Having your life and future ruined because of who your parents were…  Hawks hadn’t exactly experienced something like that, but he’d felt the fear of it for quite some time.  

(Despite everything, he still wanted to be a hero.)

“Thanks, for the heads up, dude.  Where should I pick you up?”

.

“You really need to check in on your safehouses more often,” said Izuku as Toshinori reapplied the bandages around his ankle.

“I know.  I was busy.  I’m sorry.  I haven’t exactly been helpful in all of this, have I?”

“I would have been caught within the hour, if you didn’t pick me up,” said Izuku.  “I wasn’t in my right mind.  But what now?”

“We can still go to Deika, I suppose,” said Toshinori.  “We just, ah…”  He looked up at Gigantomachia and Izuku followed his gaze with a wince. 

Yeah.  That wasn’t going to fly in any reasonably populous area. 

As he watched, Machia pulled a small box out from beneath his shirt.  Izuku blinked.  That was a two-way radio. 

Wait. 

Gigantomachia pressed a button, and the radio crackled to life.  “DOCTOR!” shouted Gigantomachia.  “I HAVE FOUND THE LITTLE LORD AND HIS FRIEND.  WHAT SHOULD I DO?”

Izuku tensed.  He and Toshinori should have realized Machia would have some way of communicating with the doctor.  After all, he’d said something along the lines of ‘call the doctor’ earlier. 

Sure, both Izuku and Toshinori were injured, exhausted, and distracted by events playing out inside their heads, but just because a mistake was understandable didn’t mean it was forgivable.  Or survivable. 

The radio crackled with static.  No response.

Izuku let out a sigh of relief as Machia repeatedly tried to raise the doctor on the other end of the line before breaking down in tears. 

.

“Are- Are you sure we shouldn’t pull over, Dr. Tsubasa?  Your phone is going off an awful lot.”

“I’ve been getting a lot of prank calls lately,” said Garaki, knuckles white around the steering wheel.  “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He was, in fact, quite sure it wasn’t nothing.  But he couldn’t take a call from the League of Villains, or even Machia, with Midoriya Inko in the car. 

He checked his GPS.  Yes, Machia was staying still, which probably meant that he had Midoriya Izuku.  Hopefully, he had already disposed of All Might, and could, therefore, devote his energy to keeping the Midoriyas from escaping and Midoriya Inko from attempting to kill Garaki once they arrived.  And—

No, he was moving again.  Curse the creature.  How hard could it be to keep one teenager in place?

True, the teenager was the son of All for One and starting to grow into his terrifying legacy, but really. 

“And you’re sure your friend will help us keep Izuku from being arrested?” asked Inko.  She had been asking him some version of this question every few minutes since they got in the car.

“Quite sure,” said Garaki.  He had been giving some version of this answer every few minutes since they got in the car.

“Is he… a lawyer of some kind?”

The picture of Gigantomachia as a lawyer was so incongruous that Garaki flinched and nearly drove off the road. 

“No,” he said, perfectly calmly, not at all freaking out over what All for One would do to him if he involved Inko in a car accident.  He laughed nervously.  Oh, he’d better hope the accident killed him.  Goodness. 

“You have your driver’s license, right?” asked Inko.

“Yes,” said Garaki.  His phone started buzzing again.  He ignored it in favor of checking the GPS again. 

Oh, dear.  He knew where Machia was going. 

This could be… interesting.  He glanced at Inko.  Very interesting.

At least he knew how to get there.

.

“I’m just saying,” said Izuku, who had been relieved far too early in the game.  “I really, really don’t get along with Shigaraki Tomura.  I think we should probably not go anywhere near him.  It’s a really bad idea.”

“But he can call the doctor for you!” said Machia, excitedly as he bounded through the forest.  “Then you can be better, Little Lord!  All fixed up!”

Again, that did not make Izuku feel better.  He squirmed against Machia’s arms. 

.

None of the League of Villains were bad at sneaking.  In fact, they were all quite good at it. 

However, they’d come into the city with the expectation that they would have a quick getaway courtesy of the doctor if anything went wrong.  Which they no longer had.  Because he was ‘not in his lab’ and ‘busy.’  Self-important NPC…  until the noumu got up and running, his whole point was to provide fast travel. 

Anyway.  Between being unexpectedly stranded and the stupidly huge numbers of heroes out looking for the cauliflower brat aka player two (Tomura didn’t have any proof he was actually Sensei’s kid, and until then…), they were going into this stealth mission with serious handicaps. 

(With Dabi gone something like ninety-nine percent of that handicap was Twice and his inability to walk around like a normal person.  Tomura had left his hands at home and Compress just had to take off his mask.  Toga would have the easiest time of it, Tomura could admit, because she just had to shank someone.)

“I hate to say it,” said Mr. Compress, “but I think our burnt friend might have the right idea.  Splitting up will give us better chances.”

“No way,” whined Toga.  “We’ve got to stick together.  Right, boss man?”  She hugged Tomura’s arm until he pushed her off with his knuckles. 

“There’s a car down there with the keys still in the ignition,” said Twice, pointing down into an alley.

They all leaned over the side of the roof to look at the car.  It was old-fashioned.  Antique, even.  Someone clearly put a lot of care into keeping it clean and running. 

The keys were, indeed, still in the ignition. 

“A sting?” suggested Mr. Compress, uncertainly. 

“Nah, they don’t use cars like that for stings in this city,” said Tomura, revising his opinion on whether or not Twice was a handicap.  “They use, like, sports cars.  Who here can drive?”

“I don’t have a license,” said Toga.  “I was too young when I ran away from home.”

“I didn’t ask who had a license.  I asked who can drive.”

“I can drive—Badly!—I drive fine.  Hardly ever crashed—depends what you mean by ‘crash.’”

Tomura scratched his neck.  He wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole.  “Compress, tell me you can drive.”

“I never learned how to use a stick shift.”

He pulled his bloody fingernails away from his neck.  “Okay.  Here’s the deal.  Twice, if you crash us, I’ll kill you.”

“Sure thing, boss!” said Twice, saluting.  “Not if I kill you first, jerkface!”

This was going to be a long drive.

.

“We’ve got a new message from the HSPC,” said the producer, sliding a piece of paper onto the presenter’s desk.  “Read that as soon as we come off the commercials, okay?”

“Got it,” said the presenter, putting her headphones back on.  She read the notice. 

Members of the league of villains have been sighted in Musutafu and are believed to be present in connection with the kidnapping of Yagi Toshinori, also known as All Might.  Please exercise caution…

.

The commission investigators had been waiting for at least half an hour before any of the UA staff even deigned to greet them.

“It’s about time,” said Abe. 

“Sorry,” said the teacher waving.  “You can’t come in.”

“Excuse me?”

“The campus is on lockdown because of what happened at the testing center,” explained the teacher.  “We can’t open the gates without Nezu’s authorization, and he was called away to deal with an emergency.”

“What,” said Ito, dropping his cigarette and grind it under his heel.  “Seriously?  This is the emergency.  One of your own teachers got kidnapped.  All Might got kidnapped.  Don’t you care?”

The teacher snorted.  Abe and Ito stared at him through the bars of the fence, taken aback. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just—”  The man snickered again.  “Midoriya kidnapping Yagi.  That’s certainly an image.”

“Midoriya is a trained in combat and has three dangerous quirks.  All Might can’t even use his one anymore.”

“Yes, yes, I’m not saying it’s physically impossible.  But—”  He started laughing.  “Possible and likely are two different things.  Excuse me.  I never introduced myself.  I’m Lunch Rush, and if you ever saw those two at lunch time together, you’d have a very clear picture of why this whole situation is absurd.”

“Maybe you can show us the tapes, then,” said Abe.  “After you let us in.”

“No, sir, I’m afraid I can’t.  Even if I had access to them, there are students in those videos!”

“So?”

“Minors, you see.  Without written parental permission or a court order we can’t show them to anyone not affiliated with the school.  Now, I must be going.  I have a culinary arts class to teach!”

He was still chuckling as he walked away.  “Midoriya kidnapping Yagi, oh ho, I knew I’d get a kick out of actually hearing someone say that seriously…”

.

“Wow,” said Twice, “this car gets terrible gas mileage.”

“Are we going to run out?” asked Toga.  “That’ll be exciting!  I’ll have to flag down some generous motorist to give us a lift~”

“Yes!  Not soon!”

Compress leaned forward from the back seat and started fiddling with the radio, barely staying on each channel long enough to tell if they were playing music or news.

Tomura groaned and covered his face with his hand.  He contemplated whether it was worth letting his pinky drop just to escape this. 

“… League of Villains?” 

Compress stopped changing channels.

“They’ve been saying it all along.  I know it’s hard to believe that UA could miss something like this, something like a traitor, but it’s just facts.  The League’s presence in Musutafu confirms it.  He kidnapped All Might for them”

“It all seems awfully coincidental, though, and the commission isn’t showing us any pictures—How do we know for sure the League is in the city?  For that matter, if the League is really involved, how do we know Midoriya Izuku isn’t just another victim?  We never got a full tally of their members.  They could have someone with a, I don’t know, a brainwashing quirk.”

“Yumi, you really need to lay off the late-night conspiracy theories.  We can trust the hero commissioookkkhhh—”

The radio died horribly as Tomura decayed it out of console.

“I am going to commit murder,” said Tomura.  How did this always happen?  How was it always this attention-grabbing, kill-stealing little—

“I guess we have time for a pit stop.  No, we don’t!”

“Don’t you dare stop this car until we’re back at base,” growled Tomura.  He took a deep breath that really wasn’t calming at all. 

“I kind of have, to, I mean, road signs and all…  Uh.”

“We’re villains, dude,” said Spinner.  “You can break a few traffic laws.”

“Hell ye—Not if we want to live.”

“You can follow the traffic signs,” allowed Tomura.  He leaned back his seat, ignoring Mr. Compress’s complaint about squished legs. 

Player two.  Finishing the tutorial and then blazing through a quest like that.  Crazy OP character build. 

He still wanted player two in his party.  He also wanted to knock the brat so far off the leaderboard that he’d never play the game again. 

These were, Tomura acknowledged, somewhat conflicting desires.  He was, at the moment, leaning toward the second, but the first would give him ongoing dominance which would be incredibly satisfying. 

If player two really was Sensei’s kid…

Then Tomura… He’d be like… a big brother.   An older sibling. 

That felt… weird.  But also weirdly like something he wanted.  Ugh, it sounded like a pain.  Stupid story-mode side quest with garbage rewards, except the garbage rewards were the best rewards. 

He hadn’t built his character for social interactions.  He was combat class, high DPS. 

Why couldn’t things just be simple?  Why couldn’t he just destroy what he wanted?

“Heyyyy!” squealed Toga.  “It’s a McDonalds!  We could get murder and fries.”

“Do.  Not.  Stop.  The car.”

.

Machia thundered into the abandoned quarry with all the enthusiasm of a deranged puppy. 

“This is Shigaraki Tomura’s secret hide out!” proclaimed the giant, setting a windswept Izuku and Toshinori down in front of a crumbling, half-collapsed building.  He beamed proudly.  “SHIGARAKI TOMURA!” he screamed at the building, frightening away the few brave birds in the quarry that had yet to leave.

No one came out.  Machia sniffed the air. 

“Oh,” he said.  “They aren’t home.”

“That’s fine,” said Izuku, patting Machia.  He didn’t elaborate.  Most of his brainpower was currently tied up in preventing his legs from folding underneath him. 

“Why don’t we,” began Toshinori before hacking up a large quantity of blood.  “Why don’t we just show ourselves in?  I’m sure it will be more comfortable for young—For the little lord to wait inside.  And perhaps one of them left a phone we can use.”

“The last time you went into a building by yourselves, you were attacked,” rumbled Machia. 

“That is true,” said Toshinori, “but there’s no one in this building.  You’d be able to smell them.”

“Not if they were invisible.”

Izuku blinked slowly.  “That,” he said, “doesn’t sound right.”

He continued to blink as Toshinori convinced Machia that he would, in fact, be able to smell invisible people.  He must have missed something, though, because next thing he knew, Toshinori was steering him into what passed as the building’s door. 

“Alright,” said Toshinori, voice low.  “We’re going to get you cleaned up as best we can, then we’re going to take everything that looks useful and sneak out.”

“Like… food and stuff?”

“Yes.  And we’re also going to see if we can break enough things that they’ll have to take care of that instead of following us.”

“We could just set some things on fire,” said Izuku, who had never considered himself a pyromaniac of any kind, but who had also grown up alongside Kacchan. 

“Good idea,” said Toshinori, who had been the type of fifth grader who made jokes about setting things on fire but had only ever burned his workbook at the end of the school year.  “Let’s see if these guys have running water.”

“You know,” said Izuku, carefully avoiding a bunch of old food wrappers.  “I sort of expected a more impressive evil lair, all things considered.”

“This is average for high-level fugitives, actually,” said Toshinori.  “Especially if they don’t have a lot of connections or cash.”

“Huh,” said Izuku, cautiously opening a door.  “Here’s the bathroom.  Huh.”

There were a lot of hair products in the bathroom.  A lot a lot. 

It’s like the candles budget chart, snickered Six in the back of Izuku’s head.  Help, I’m trying to balance my evil lair budget.  This is what I’ve got so far:  Electricity, 100 yen, building, 1100 yen, furniture, 200 yen, hair styling products, 9,000,000 yen. 

Izuku wheezed. 

But, seriously.  Why did they need this much hair stuff?  Shigaraki obviously hadn’t ever even heard of personal grooming.  Toga had her natural hair color.  Compress didn’t show his face or his hair.  Spinner had a lizard mutation.  Dabi—

It was totally Dabi. 

Oh gosh, based on how most of the hair dye boxes were labeled for temporary use and quick removal…  Haha, was Dabi just… just waiting… just waiting for an opportune moment to dramatically reveal himself? 

Izuku started wheezing again. 

“Are you alright, my boy?” asked Toshinori confused.

“This is Dabi’s hair dye,” said Izuku.

“Hm.  I hadn’t realized he dyed it.”

“I want this hair dye,” said Izuku.

“I suppose we can try to find the brand once we get to a supermarket,” said Toshinori, confused.

“No, no,” said Izuku, still gazing down at the box sitting next to the sink.  “I don’t want to use this brand of hair dye.  I want to use this hair dye.”

“Oh.  Oh,” said Toshinori.  “This hair dye.  Dabi’s hair dye.”

“Yes,” said Izuku.

“To be petty.”

“Yes,” confirmed Izuku again. 

“It has been a long time since I was… petty,” said Toshinori.

“Vlad-sensei’s car?”

“That was convenience, not pettiness.”

“Well,” said Izuku, picking up the box.  “We are sort of… you know… villains, now.  Since we fought Hawks.   I am anyway.”

“You’re not a villain,” protested Toshinori. 

“I mean, from a legal standpoint,” said Izuku.  “Not a moral one.  And, well.  Villains are petty, right?”

“I do not believe pettiness is an exclusively villainous trait, my boy.  In any case, I wasn’t condemning you.”  He put his hands on his hips and looked up at the cracked and crumbling ceiling.  “If we had more time here, we could set up some things that would really annoy them.”

“More than stealing their food, their money, their clothes, and their hair dye before setting their house on fire?” asked Izuku. 

Toshinori scratched his head.  “You know, now that I think about it, probably not.  But does this really qualify as a house?” 

.

“Hey,” said Hawks.  “So, about the other half of that tip.”

“Huh?  There isn’t a second half.  That was just to keep you from ditching me.”

Hawks had met villains who were civilized professionals.  Why couldn’t he be trying to infiltrate a society made up of those types, and not one that included the racoon currently filling his car (technically the commission’s car) with the scent of smoke and charred flesh?

“Well, what about that ‘interesting parentage’ you were alluding to?”

“Oh.  Shigaraki thinks Midoriya is his sensei’s kid.”  Dabi shrugged.  “Honestly… yeah.  I kind of see it.  But you’d think he’d get his kid to work with us instead of whatever is going on between him and Shigaraki, on the other hand…”  Dabi trailed off. 

Hawks momentarily glanced away from the road to see Dabi with an uncharacteristically pensive expression. 

“I mean,” continued Dabi, leaning on his hand as he stared out the window, “the whole hero thing could be sticking it to his old man.  I can respect that.” 

“You sound like you’re talking from experience,” observed Hawks. 

“You still talk to your parents?” asked Dabi. 

“Nope.”

“Heh, you wouldn’t tell me even if you did, would you?”

“Hey, you are a villain.  I’ve got to keep my soft spots covered, right?”

“Right,” drawled Dabi.  “Kid held up pretty well against you, didn’t he?”

“He did okay,” said Hawks.  “He got away, after all.”

“Wonder how he’d do against Endeavor.  One-on-one.  What d’you think?”

Hawks couldn’t help but swallow.  If it were one-on-one, and Midoriya could still use Erasure…  He hated to think it, but Endeavor might lose.  A man with no quirk against a strong enhancer and that black tentacle emitter…

He wondered how long it would be before Midoriya got put on the S-rank villain list.  The paperwork had to be in progress. 

(After all, he’d defeated the number two hero – or near enough – while holding off three others.)

(On the other hand… that building…)

“It’d certainly be a fight,” said Hawks, neutrally.  “Is Midoriya really not working with you?”

“Nope,” said Dabi, not quite managing to pop the ‘p’ with his burnt lips.  “Not saying he isn’t a villain or whatever.  That’s up to you guys after all.”

“Not me,” said Hawks.  “I’m on your side, remember?”

“I remember,” said Dabi.  “Anyway, I only was face-to-face with him that one time in the forest, last summer.  He had a great expression.  Not as great as – Well.  That part doesn’t matter.”

Ugh…  Hawks hadn’t taken Dabi for the kind of killer who’d reminisce about his kills.  Maybe he could – No.  Lose Dabi and he’d lose his lead on the League, and who knew how many more people would end up dead.

He just wished the commission would give him backup on this.  Someone who actually worked with infiltration.  Someone who could help him minimize the damage the League was doing. 

“Pull over,” said Dabi.  “This is my stop.”

“You live around here?”

Dabi snorted.  “Not a chance.  You get to see our base once we’re sure you won’t tattle.”

“Come on, you can’t blame a guy for curiosity,” said Hawks. 

“Sure can,” said Dabi opening the door and jumping out onto the gravel margin.  “I’ll call you.”  He walked off the side of the road into the scruffy tree cover and disappeared. 

“Well,” mumbled Hawks, deliberately ignoring all the elocution lessons the commission had stuffed him with.  “That was useless.”

Except for the tiny feathers he’d snuck into the lining of Dabi’s coat.  But those had limited range and Hawks wasn’t good enough at stealth to follow Dabi without making an idiot (a potentially dead one on top of that) out of himself. 

His phone began to ring, the bugs in the car having shown the commission that Dabi was gone.  Hawks sighed and answered.  Time for new marching orders. 

.

The landscape was much more intact, now.  It was still a battlefield.  Four was dodging bullets and catching grenades to sling them back at his attackers.  He dove to the ground right before a cheerily painted building exploded into splinters. 

Danger Sense, Aizawa concluded.  Some kind of limited precognition? 

“Shigaraki?” said Iida.  “He’s a Shigaraki?  He’s related to—to him?  To Shigaraki?”

“Sensei,” said Uraraka, tugging on his sleeve, “that other man, you don’t think that was, you know, the man from Kamino?  All for One?”

“Midoriya thinks that All Might is related to All for One?” muttered Todoroki, just load enough to hear.  “That – no, that does make sense.  Their quirks are wrong, though, but if there are enough generations, you can’t really predict…  Does that make Midoriya and Shigaraki cousins?”

Todoroki paused.  Aizawa braced himself, both for the violence he was sure he was about to see, and the torture Todoroki was about to inflict on him. 

“Midoriya is related to All for One,” whispered Todoroki. 

.

Shouto didn’t blame Midoriya for trying to hide it.  If at all possibly, he would have hidden the fact that he was related to Endeavor.  Sure, he might have lost some privileges, but he also would have gotten rid of the constant comparisons between himself and his father. 

Much like Shimura Souma had to face. 

It must have been terrible for a young Midoriya to learn that he was related to a man who had so injured his father. 

To learn that he was related to this man. 

(No wonder he based this shade on Shouto, although Shouto didn’t think that Endeavor was quite as bad as All for One.)

There was a sound like cymbals being brought together, then—

Light.

And—

Sound. 

A group of soldiers who had been sneaking up on Four were obliterated by a lightning strike that left behind fire and glassed soil. 

Four got up and did a sort of awkward bunny hop away from the strike zone, blinking dazedly and covering his ears.  Shouto knew he’d be behaving similarly if his dream body behaved at all realistically.  Especially given the risk of being electrocuted due to the charge in the ground…  Or was that just for downed power lines and Kaminari?  He didn’t remember, and apparently neither did Four. 

There was another crash of the cymbals, like thunder before the lightning and the lightning struck again, farther off. 

And then a woman, a few years older than Four ran out from between two of the buildings, cymbals in her hands.  Her graying hair was worn in tiny braids and her skin was dark.  Mixed race – That would have been rarer back then.  She had other musical instruments (drumsticks, some kind of flute, what looked like maracas) attached to her belt, but was otherwise dressed in generic military surplus gear.  There was a massive surgical scar stretching across her throat. 

“Haruna,” said Four.  “What, what are you doing here?”

‘Haruna’ tucked one of the cymbals under her arm and began signing aggressively at Four. 

“Ye-yes.  But – Your children, they need you.”

More signing.  “I’m not being hypocritical.”  He gestured to the mark over his eye.  “I’m dying anyway.  You aren’t.”

Her face twists, then twists again as she notices more armed men approaching.  She claps her hands, metal sewn into the palms flashing before a slender bolt of lightning cracks across the sky. 

This is when Shouto realizes who she is.  He’d learned about her in art class, of all things.  Thunderclap.  One half of one of the first villain duo to be marked as S-rank, active during the dawn of heroics.  Her birth name was widely believed to be Harmony Trey, and she’d used the alias Miura, but records from back then, even for something that important, were sketchy, and criminals were never good at keeping paperwork up to date in the first place.    

Her quirk was sound-based weather manipulation.  No one knew what had happened to her throat, but the public of the past had been grateful for it.  She could cause lightning strikes with a clap.  What could she do with her own voice?

Something like twenty percent of the early propaganda pieces for the Hero Practices and Standards Commission had her and her partner on them, being defeated or held off by various newly licensed heroes. 

Neither of them had ever been caught. 

Was she ‘Three?’  If so, Shouto could understand why Six didn’t want to say anything, although All for One was much more jarring and—

Hold up.  Thunderclap had been active over a hundred years ago.  If All for One was here, too, then that meant that either:

• Midoriya’s subconscious was terrible at timelines (and so was Shouto’s because he’d just accepted all this without question until a split second ago). Or—
• All for One had an immortality quirk on top of all the other terrifying things he could do.

The fact that the second one was more plausible was unfair of reality. 

(Shouto liked ‘conspiracy’ theories, but his theories were, for the most part, well, not things that would keep him up at night for fear of nightmares.)

Except she didn’t seem to see them at all, so maybe not.  The rules in the dreamscape had, appropriately, a dreamlike consistency.  That is to say, hardly any. 

“Please,” said Four.  “We don’t both need to die.”

Thunderclap looked like she was about to cry.  But she nodded.  Four turned to face the rest of the small army bearing down on him. 

.

The house looked cozy, thought Tenya.  Sort of like that cabin his family had rented in the countryside a few years back.  The lights were dim but warm.  The smell of food and spices permeated the air.  Children and teens of various ages were draped over furniture. 

In the kitchen, four adults sat around a table.  Four, Thunderclap, a man who was entirely green, and woman with hair so golden it literally glowed. 

As a middle schooler, Tenya had done a lot of research into discrimination against people with mutation quirks and vestigial or tangential mutations.  It had branched off into research into quirk-based discrimination in general.  If this scene was truly set near the dawn of heroics, the green man and the golden-haired woman would have risked being attacked just walking on the street in most cities. 

He looked back through the doorway at the children in the other room.

Both the yellow hair and the green curls were painfully familiar. 

Did Midoriya really think he was related to Thunderclap of all people?  The idea was preposterous. 

Except—

Oh, he was getting just as bad as Todoroki.  Not to mention, even if Midoriya did have a terrorist in his family tree a hundred years ago, it didn’t change anything about Midoriya.  Goodness, Tenya most likely had some less than savory characters in his own family tree, even if he didn’t know about them. 

Four doubled over clutching his head, interrupting the apparently light-hearted story the green man was telling. 

“They’re coming,” gasped Four.  “They’re coming.  Go bags – phone tree – we have to.”

“I’ll get the kids,” said the golden-haired woman. 

.

“Your body is shutting down,” said a man in a doctor’s coat.  “These cracks, they aren’t just on your skin, they’re on your organs, too.  I can’t find any reason for it.  Maybe if we had access to genetic testing…” he shook his head.  “Maybe you can still get it.  Your quirk is concealable.  Not like most of us here.”  He took a moment to tug on one of his long, sheeplike ears.

Four shook his head.  “Too big a risk.”

“Mhm, it’s up to you,” said the doctor, dubiously.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more, Yagi-san.”

“It’s still Shimura.  Yagi is my wife.”

“That’s still confusing.”

“The name change thing is western,” said Four, “and I picked Shimura for a reason.”

Aizawa steadied himself against a wall.  The last two shifts had been disorienting. 

“Is there anything else I can do?” asked the doctor. 

“Can you help me tell my wife?”

.

Four was screaming and holding his face.  In front of him was a huge boulder, split in half. 

.

“Hoshino,” said Four, leaning down so that his head rested on top of the golden-haired woman’s.  “I gave it away.  I gave it away.”

“Lariat worked out, then?” asked Hoshino.  Yagi Hoshino, Aizawa had to presume. 

“He’s a good person,” said Four, hoarsely.  “I like working with him.”

“You don’t have to stop.”

Four closed his eyes.  “I think… without it…  I might be able to live here.  At least, visit more often.”

“I’d like that.  I think the kids would, too.”

.

Four, hunched over, clutching his head. 

.

Four, in an alley, fighting men with knives, standing in front of a young woman with clawed hands.  He’d been stabbed in the side. 

.

They were back in the house, watching a news program.  A trainline had been hit by a villain attack.  A ticker on the bottom read ‘mutant metahuman train under attack by Evolutionary gang.’  The reporter’s voiceover was saying something along the lines of this is why mutants shouldn’t be allowed on public transport, they bring their gang wars with them.

Lariat was on the scene.  A man recognizable only by his green skin at this distance fell out of one of the train cars.  Lariat grabbed him with one of his black energy whips and put him back. 

Thunderclap relaxed her death grip on Four’s arm by just an iota. 

“He saved him,” said Four. 

.

A much younger Four leaned against a wooden wall.  He was splattered with blood, his clothing torn. 

“I couldn’t save her,” he whispered.  His hands were shaking.  “Shimura-san—”  His breath caught. 

.

A woman with her hair gathered into a curly gray ponytail sat at a desk, blankly staring at the content.  She wore a grey cardigan and could have been Thunderclap’s sister.  Her eyes were obscured. 

Which meant she probably was, all things considered. 

Which meant that she was the other half of that S-rank villain pair. 

Tempest.

“You don’t have to do this,” said Four.

“I do.  You don’t understand how many people he’s killed.  You don’t understand what he’s done.  He has Haruna.  I can’t—”

The scene sheered away as Tempest turned to face Four. 

.

Do you remember when I first met you?

“Oh, this isn’t a pleasant one,” said Four, voice deceptively mild. 

They were in an underground facility.   The walls were concrete and metal, covered in pipes.  The sounds of footsteps echoed down the hallway, starting and stopping. 

“Although,” said Four, “there were certainly some good points as well.”

A teenage version of Four ran down the hall, frequently looking over his shoulder.  His hands clutched a ring of keys by their blades and a pair of ID cards.  His long, shaggy hair hung in his face, and he kept having to push it out of the way. 

He reached a door at the end of the hall, and started fumbling with the keys, muttering under his breath.  He slid one of the cards through a scanner near the door.  It clicked open. 

First contact. 

There were definitely fewer voices involved in the proclamation, now.  Two men, one woman.  The woman had an American accent. 

Beyond the door, a woman was strapped to the bed, unconscious.  No, not a woman, the same woman who had been at the desk. 

Tempest.  Storm-caller.  A villain who had been responsible for bringing so many storms to bear against Japan that they had permanently changed the coastline. 

“Got to get you out of here before Dad comes back,” muttered the younger Four, untying the straps.  “You need to wake up.  Ah, Narcan.”  He started rifling through a cabinet.  “Narcan, Narcan…  Narcan.  Found you.”

“Don’t look for Three,” said Four.  “She doesn’t want to talk to you.  Or anyone.  Do you know where Jinoshi Lake Camp is?”

“My class went there on a history field trip, once,” said Uraraka. 

“Yeah,” said Aizawa, not liking where this was going at all.  “I know the place.”

‘The place’ being what amounted to a concentration camp for quirked people in the early days of the quirk boom.  How bad it was tended to be glossed over in history lessons, but Aizawa had long been able to read between the lines. 

In the earliest days, the government had tried surgically removing quirks.  Typically by removing the relevant body parts.

“That’s her contact point.  Don’t look too closely.”

Aizawa supposed he knew how Thunderclap got her scars. 

Chapter Text

The scene shifted the moment Tempest woke up.  They were outside, on a street in the middle of the city.  Storm clouds circled overhead. 

Tempest stood in front of them, hands in her pockets, a bland expression on her face. 

“So,” she drawled.  “You’re Nine’s friends.”

“Uh,” said Ochako, taken aback.  Right after Four had said she wouldn’t talk to them, this was disconcerting.   “Yes?”

“I’m his teacher,” said Aizawa, stepping forward.

“Yeah?  You think you’re doing a good job raising up little child soldiers?”

“Excuse me?” said Aizawa. 

“You heard me.”  She shifted her gaze to Ochako, then to Todoroki and Iida.  “I bet Souma told you I wouldn’t be talking to you.”

“He did say something along those lines, yes,” said Iida, even as Ochako worked very hard to elbow him.

“I can follow why he’d think that,” Tempest said.  “I spent most of my life fighting against the government.  Lord knows I wouldn’t have approved of him choosing a ‘pro hero’ to follow after him.”  She took her hands out of her pockets to make air quotes.  She was wearing brass knuckles.  “Whatever a pro hero is supposed to be.  Government lackeys.  Cops and war criminals with a different name.  I’m shocked he pulled a halfway decent person from the muck.”

“We’re not war criminals!” protested Iida. 

“Oh, yeah?  I forgot, the Geneva convention was nixed, wasn’t it?  They had this big meeting and decided none of it applied to metahumans, and then, bam!  Everyone’s a metahuman, so it doesn’t apply at all, huh?  Neat, right?”

“What we’re doing now might not be what you’re used to,” said Ochako, “but it’s the way society works, now.”

“And we’re not killing people, like you did,” said Iida.  Ochako winced at his combative addition. 

“I did what I had to, to get people out of the torture camps,” said Tempest.  “People like my little sister.  You know what they did to her?  They thought her power was just controlled by her voice.  So, they cut out her vocal cords.”

“They don’t do that anymore,” said Todoroki.   

“You think a government like that is just going to stop doing things?  Without people making them?  Without being forced?”  Tempest laughed and looked up at the swirling sky.  “Maybe you do.  You’re just kids, after all.  But tell me this, do you think they didn’t know exactly what was happening to your family, Todoroki Shouto?”

Aizawa cleared his throat.  “What’s your point, here?” he asked.  “What do you want from us?”

Tempest looked back at Aizawa.  The coldness in her brown eyes made Ochako shiver.  “We could have kept you out,” she said.  “That Suzuki idiot, too.  Do you know why we didn’t?”

“Enlighten us,” said Aizawa.  

“Because the way we do it would cause irreparable brain damage.  We know, because we’ve done it before.  I thought it was worth it, but the others didn’t want to hurt ‘Nine’s friends.’”

“Are you implying that we aren’t Midoriya’s friends?” asked Todoroki, frowning. 

Tempest huffed and wind whipped down the road, making Ochako cover her face. 

“No.  To be honest, I’m not completely sold on Nine, either.  He wanted to part of the system so bad, and that’s not to mention—” she huffed again.  “At least he knows what it’s like to be on the other side of the equation.  You four, though… I’m stuck with Nine.  I don’t owe you anything and you’re causing all these problems.  What I want from you—”

Behind her, lightning snapped down from the sky. 

“—is to prove to me you’re worth it.”

.

“Vlad, the police were able to find your car,” said Powerloader, holding his hand over the receiver of the staff room telephone.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Vlad.  “I hate taking public transportation.”  He paused.  “I mean, uh, did they find Yagi?  Is he alright?”

“No, they didn’t find Yagi.”

“Great,” said Vlad.  “So, ask them when I can pick it up.  Why are you making that face?  Did Yagi total it?  I bet he did.  ‘Symbol of Peace,’ my—”

“No,” interrupted Powerloader.  “Yagi didn’t total it.  Or crash it.  It was parked in an alley near the Musutafu entertainment district.”

“Where Midoriya had that fight with Hawks,” said Vlad, putting his head in his hands.  “It got wrecked by one of them, didn’t it?”

“No,” said Powerloader.  “It was parked in an alley.  They found it on a security camera.  It isn’t there anymore.”

“They took it again?”

“The League of Villains took it.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

.

The bus felt empty with half the class missing.  The remaining 1-A students (plus Shinso) were all huddled together at the front, mooching off of the teachers mobile hotspots. 

“Did my email go through yet, kero?” asked Tsuyu, leaning over her seat to look at Denki’s computer. 

“Not yet,” said Denki.  “I’ve got all the pictures you guys sent arranged, but I wish we had more video material.  Ashido was the one with the most…”  He sighed.  “Ashido, gossip queen, when you wake up I will apologize for all my comments about your hobbies.”

“I have some videos of Midoriya.”

“Trust us, Mineta, no one want your videos,” said Yaoyorozu.

“Huh?  Why not?”

“Tell us this.  How many of your videos are actually of Midoriya and don’t just have him incidentally in the background while you try to film girls.”

“None of them,” said Mineta, obviously not seeing why this was wrong.  “Why would I film Midoriya?”

“Mic,” said Midnight, “please remind me to sign up the walking lawsuit for some sensitivity classes.  How did Eraser miss this?”

“Unfortunately, Shouta is about as sexual as the average rock, so…”

“Remind me to sign him up for some training, too, then.”

“Will do.”

“Walking lawsuit?” asked Mineta. 

Everyone else sighed.  Then Denki’s laptop pinged.

“Huh.  I just got an email from Principal Nezu.”

The adults, including Green Light, the bus driver, blanched.  Adults were bothered by the weirdest things.  In the end, Nezu was just a guy with a quirk, right?  A hero, even!  Principal Nezu, the Education Hero!

Okay, he’d scared Denki (Mr. Terrible Grades) a lot in elementary and middle school, but really. 

(Okay, the crane thing at the Final Exam had been high-key terrifying, but he was trying to get past that.)

“Huh,” repeated Denki, having read the email.  “That’s interesting.”

“What is it, my electric friend?” asked Aoyama, drapping himself sideways across his seat.

“Aoyama-san,” said Midnight, “don’t put your feet on the windows.”

“Principal Nezu sent me a link to an ‘All Might adopt a kid’ fanfiction, and it’s by—”

“Midoriya writes fanfiction?” asked Shouji, evidently surprised into using his real mouth to speak. 

“That’s cute, kero,” said Tsuyu.  “It must have been before he met the real All Might, though.”

“No,” said Denki, “it was last updated just a couple of weeks ago, and, well… Midoriya didn’t write it.”

“So, who did?” asked Yaoyorozu. 

“Not Nezu, right?” asked Jiro, winding her earphone jack around her finger. 

“There’s no way, right, Kaminari-san?” asked Present Mic, nervously. 

“Uh, no, no, it’s, uh, it’s All Might.  According to Nezu.”

A beat of silence.

“What?”

Denki inserted his pinky into his right ear, trying to clear it.  Man, if the Bakusquad had been here rather than the quiet half of the class…

“Yeah, it says here that this serves All Might right for working on this during school hours?”

More silence. 

“Green Light, the road!” 

“Oops, sorry!”

“Hey, guys, are we sure that All Might didn’t, you know, kidnap Midoriya rather than the other way around?  Guys?”

.

Gran Torino, also known as Torino Sorahiko, was an active hero.  That meant late nights and late mornings.  He was also an old man.  A very old man.  Late mornings often turned into noons and afternoons. 

Sometimes, during those noons and afternoons, he liked to ignore technology and the outside world for a good long while.  Maybe read the paper a little bit.  Or one of those terrible romance novels Nana had left him in her will. 

Still, he was a hero, one wrapped up in something best described as a two-hundred-year-long shadow war, so eventually he did turn on the news. 

Only to see Toshinori’s boy fighting Hawks on live television. 

Not to mention Toshinori hanging out in the background with a shaved head. 

And the ticker said UA student Midoriya Izuku kidnaps Symbol of Peace.

(Which was the dumbest thing he had ever heard, and under other circumstances, he would have been rolling on the floor laughing.)

Gran Torino was an old man, but, luckily, he only felt like he was simultaneously having a heart attack and a stroke.  His body was more than functional enough to place a not-at-all panicked phone call to one Tsukauchi Naomasa. 

.

Tsukauchi Naomasa was incredibly busy.  That busy-ness was divided mostly evenly between desperately trying to find his best friend (who had evidently decided to make a hopefully brief foray into kidnapping teenagers) and trying to figure out what the commission was taking, because it had to be illegal.  Oh, and putting together a complaint that the commission was infringing on police prerogatives.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how much traction that last would get, since pro heroes had been steadily gaining more and more responsibilities even as the police were losing both them and the power that came with them.  Not to mention Midoriya’s stunt with Hawks…  Which… Naomasa just wanted to know why?  What had the point of that been?  On either side?

(Sometimes he wished he were friends with normal people.  Like… he didn’t know… an accountant, maybe?)

(Not that he would give Toshinori up for the world.  Just, some normalcy would be nice, too.)

He took a deep breath, remembered what he always told Toshinori about stress, and took a mouthful of room-temperature coffee. 

In that thirty-second period, two more problems presented themselves to him. 

One, his cell phone began to ring, displaying the contact information for Gran Torino. 

Two, his email softly pinged, and a message from Principal Nezu asking for any images or videos Toshinori might have sent him slid into his inbox. 

Briefly, Naomasa considered ignoring both of them, but that wasn’t a realistic option and was irresponsible besides.  Contrary to his character. 

He picked the lesser of two evils and answered Gran Torino’s call.

.

Garaki was going to have a mental breakdown.  This was fitting because his car had broken down.  Midoriya Inko was asking him if he thought that his ‘friend’ might come pick them up, if it was safe.  If his ‘friend’ had a car. 

This last had almost sent him into hysterics.  Gigantomachia in a car oh-ho!

Except it wasn’t funny at all, as this was almost certainly going to result in his death at the hands of All for One.  No matter that he considered the man his very dearest of friends, he was under no illusions about what All for One would do to him over this inexcusable error.

Perhaps he should just cut his losses and get one of the remote-activated noumu to come for them. 

Then, inexorably and inevitably, things managed to get even worse.

.

“Stop the car!” shouted Tomura. 

“But you said not to—”

“I know what I said!  Stop the car!”

Tomura twisted to see out the rear passenger window.  Everyone else turned to follow his gaze, effectively blocking his view. 

“Get out of my way!” demanded Tomura.

There was some awkward, half-hearted shuffling. 

“Does that look like anyone to you?” Tomura hissed. 

“Yeah!  Like the doctor!” said Toga. 

“I’ve never seen him standing up, though,” said Spinner, dubiously.  “It seems out of character.”

“I didn’t know he owned a car,” mused Compress, rubbing the bottom edge of his mask. 

“Not him!” snapped Tomura.  “The woman!”  He pointed angrily at the rapidly approaching woman with green hair, narrowly avoiding dusting Mr. Compress’s top hat. 

“Eh?  What about her?” asked Spinner. 

“Doesn’t she look familiar to you?”

“To be honest, everyone without mutation quirks looks kind of the same to me.”

“Someone without face blindness.”

“Oh!  She looks like Izu-kun!  Do you think that’s his mom?”

The woman knocked on the window of the car.  Twice, unhelpfully rolled it down. 

“Thank you so much for stopping, we—Oh!”  She took a step back.

She apparently recognized them.  Joy.  He was going to unpack his feelings about this woman later.

“Hey, doc,” rasped Tomura, annoyed.  “What the hell have you been doing?”

“Ahem,” said Garaki, finally stepping out from behind the car.  “I didn’t expect to see you here, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“Because you blew us off and stranded us in the middle of Musutafu?”

“No,” said Garaki, in a way that absolutely meant ‘yes.’  “I knew you were resourceful enough to safely make it out of the city.”

“Oh, yeah?  Really?  You—”

Compress chose that moment to slam his face into the back of Tomura’s head.  Tomura steadied himself automatically on one of the car’s uprights, which cracked dangerously under his hand.  He pulled back as if burned. 

When he looked up, the gremlin’s mother was halfway to the tree line with – What was that in her hand?

He looked back over his shoulder. 

That was Twice’s goddamn mask. 

Compress, for some reason, was also missing his stupid mask (and covering his face like the dramatic weirdo he was), and Toga basically had hearts in her eyes.  Spinner was being Spinner, and therefore ninety percent useless.  He was lucky he was fun to play games with.

How to make her stop?

“Hey!” he shouted.  “We have your son!”

This was a lie, as far as he knew (unless Dabi had snatched him on his way back; it wasn’t impossible), but, he was a villain.

The green-haired woman stopped and turned back, allowing Tomura a full view of her expression. 

He decided that he regretted everything. 

.

“Okay,” said Izuku, multitasking by letting Two pick the lock on the League’s safe, “considering Gigantomachia’s ability to track by smell and the questionable running water, we can’t just sneak out.  He’ll find us.  So… I think our best play is getting him to attack Shigaraki, and then when they’re both distracted, we run for it.”

Toshinori nodded and sighed.  “If only we had a giant jug of perfume.  We could throw it at his face and disrupt his ability to smell us.”

“I mean, I found a whole bunch of garbage a way back.  That isn’t perfume, but it does stink.”

“No, no, your plan is superior.  We’d draw too much suspicion if we attacked him like that.  Perfume could be written off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.  Because perfume is a ‘nice’ thing.”

“Indeed.”

“It isn’t actually very nice to have it all over you, though,” said Izuku. 

“No,” agreed Toshinori.  “It isn’t.”

The safe popped open.

“I won’t ask if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

“But, anyway, assuming we do get away, what then?  Where do we go?  And—Wow.  The League of Villains is broke.  I almost feel bad.”

“I was going to say Deika, but that’s too far, now, and we don’t know if Gigantomachia will come after us,” said Toshinori.  “Drawing him to a place full of civilians would be irresponsible.”

“Yeah,” said Izuku.  He frowned, pulling his head from the safe, and glanced out the window.  “What about the Wild Wild Pussycats?”

“What about them?” asked Toshinori. 

“They’re near here, aren’t they?  And they’ve got that whole complex, so, I mean…  I don’t know how they feel about us right now, but it wouldn’t be a terrible place to hide.  Would it?”

“I’d hate to bring all of this down on them as well,” said Toshinori.  “But… That being said, I don’t believe they’re actually there.  They were taking some time off because of what happened to Ragdoll.”

“That makes sense,” said Izuku.  “Should we take the risk?”

“I’m unsure if we have a choice, my boy.  We could try roughing it, but that puts us in a very vulnerable position.”

“And we can’t stay here, with the League.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Okay.”  Izuku sighed and started to thumb through the League’s collection of fake IDs, looking for something he could use.  “Wild Wild Pussycats it is.  We’ve got to convince Machia to attack Shigaraki, and… then we sneak out the back while they’re fighting.”  He shook his head.  “It sounds really unheroic when I put it that way.”

“Under these circumstances, I think heroic is the set of actions where no one dies.”

His mentor was right.  Izuku still felt weird about this, though.  (The pettiness was completely different.)

Not to mention…

He put the last of the fake IDs away and massaged his temples.  “They’re doing something weird in there,” he said.  “I’m going to check on them.  I might be out of it.”

“Don’t worry,” said Toshinori, patting Izuku on the shoulder.  “I’ll keep an eye on things out here.”

(Perhaps all of this could have gone unsaid, what with their connection, but saying things out loud made them easier to organize.)

.

“Hey!” shouted Izuku over the roaring wind.  “Stop that!”

“Are you going to fight me, Nine?  All by yourself?”

“No,” said Izuku, somehow contriving to look down his nose at her despite the height difference and the fact that Tempest was floating several meters in the air.  “I won’t have to.  Because I have a secret weapon.”

Ochako could almost see Tempest roll her eyes. 

“And,” shouted Izuku, “do you seriously think I just wanted to be part of the system?  Are you serious?  I wanted to help people.  People the system failed.  It isn’t like they’re responsible for the system either!”  He waved his hand to indicate Ochako, Iida, Todoroki, and Aizawa. 

“I’d argue about your hobo teacher.  Is this your secret weapon?”

“No, this is, Great-Aunt Miranda.”

Tempest opened her mouth, then closed it again.  The wind began to die down.  “I’m – I don’t know what the point of that was—"

“Neither do I!  What’s the point of this?”

“The point is determining whether or not you have people you can rely on, or a bunch of backstabbers who’ll hand you over to a government lab as soon as it’s convenient!”  She stabbed a finger at Ochako.  “She’s just in ‘heroics’ for the money!”  She pointed at Iida.  “He’s only here because it’s traditional for his family.”   She gestured at Todoroki with her other hand.  “He’s doing it mostly out of spite.  And who knows what your hobo teacher is doing this for!”

“There’s nothing wrong with any of that!” protested Ochako.  “You must have your own motivations, too!”

“She does!” shouted Izuku.  “Considering what they are, you have no room to be criticizing Iida!  Besides, you don’t even like me!”

“This isn’t about liking you or disliking!  You’re the—” Tempest visibly cut herself off, then took a deep breath.  She set herself down on the street.  “Knowing what we do now about certain things, a fourteen-year-old would not have been my first choice.”

“Excuse me!  We’re all sixteen!” said Iida. 

“You’re sixteen now, it’s – The fact of the matter is that you’re children.  Naïve children.”

“Oh my gosh, you were younger than I was when you—”

“I was kidnapped and tortured—”

“I know, but why are you taking it out on—”

“By the government that you are trying to lick the boot of—”

“Did you see what they did to Suzuki?”

Ochako felt like she was spectating a very passionate tennis match. 

“If it means anything,” said Aizawa, dragging himself out of the pile of rubble he’d been thrown into by the wind, “I’m just trying to keep my kids alive as long as possible.”

“Then expel them!  Stop them from becoming literal child soldiers!”

“I do,” said Aizawa.

“He does,” confirmed Ochako, who was well acquainted with Aizawa’s reputation. 

“He really does,” seconded Todoroki. 

“I used to see Tensei’s group chat, and every time he expelled someone…”  Iida shivered. 

“Huh,” said Todoroki.  “Is that why you’re so… insistent about rules?”

“Of course not!  Rules are important regardless of why so many students were expelled during the first month of school!”

“So, why didn’t you expel these ones?”

“If you honestly believe the problem child wouldn’t have flung himself at the first villain he saw after that and dove straight into vigilantism, you don’t know him very well.”  He sighed, standing, and brushed dust and pebbles out of his tracksuit.  “That goes for these three as well.  They’re insane and it’s not my fault.”

“Isn’t saving others what heroes do?” asked Izuku, walking closer to Tempest.  Ochako wanted to run out and grab him, but this whole ordeal had just shown how useless that would be.  “No matter what?”

“Not no matter what.  This is why I…”  She shook her head, sighing.  “Not no matter what.”  She leaned forward, her hands on her hips.  “Don’t die.  You do realize what will happen if you die, right?  I don’t have to spell it out for you?”

“N-no,” said Izuku. 

“Besides which, I’m not a hero.”

“You saved people,” protested Izuku. 

“And, as your friends pointed out, I’ve killed, too.”

“I know,” said Izuku.  “But you aren’t a bad person.”

“Lots of people kill during wars,” said Ochako, going to stand by Izuku, “and that’s what you were fighting in, wasn’t it?  I mean, I don’t know a lot about that time, but…”

“You wouldn’t.  It’s been over a hundred years.”

Izuku nodded.  “This fight isn’t doing anything, though.  None of us want them here if the vault opens.”

“The what?” asked Iida.  “The vault.”

“Hopefully,” said Izuku, “you won’t have to worry about it.”

“The fight did do something, though,” said Tempest.

“What?” asked Izuku. 

“For one,” said Tempest, “it made you think.  For the other…”  Her eyes flicked over Ochako and the others.  “Everyone you fight will have their own reasons.  Remember that.”

.

As they walked down the street, storms still brewing overhead, Ochako kept catching glimpses of children in the alleyways and cross streets. 

“Who are they?” she asked, unable to help herself. 

“My sister and I,” answered Tempest, brusquely.  Ochako, watching the back of the woman’s head, saw her twitch slightly towards one of the alleys.  “About the time we were taken.”

“Taken by who?” asked Todoroki. 

Tempest laughed.  The sound was entirely humorless.  “That government you’re so eager to serve.  You’ve noticed, I hope, that my sister and I aren’t completely Japanese?”

“Yes?” said Todoroki.  “I’m not blind, after all.”

“Todoroki,” said Aizawa in a warning tone.

“Good for you.  Our mother was Japanese.  Dad was American.  We went back and forth to see the family.  Problem was, everyone on Mom’s side quirks.  We didn’t even realize it.  The government tracked the weather disturbances to our movements and raided our family reunion.  Never saw my parents again.  Never saw anyone, for that matter, except my sister and my aunt – Dad’s side – who tried to smuggle us out and got shot for it.  We spent four years in that hell before Ryuji rescued us.”

“You’re more open about this than I would have expected,” said Aizawa.

Tempest sneered.  “Why wouldn’t I be?  I’m a terrorist, and people only become terrorists if they want to make a statement.  Which I did.  Trust me when I say this, Nine, if the hero commission took you into ‘custody,’” she spat the word like it was dirty, “you’d be in the same boat.  What do you children think they do to all those high-profile criminals in Tartarus?  The ones that are held indefinitely in a private prison without even a show trial?”

“I know, Three,” said Izuku, far more calmly that Ochako would have been able to.  “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to be a hero.  It’s easier to change systems from the inside.”

“Not this system.”

“No,” said Izuku, “but then I had no idea this part of the system even existed.  They do a lot to hide it, after all.”

“Hm,” grunted Tempest, skeptically.

The buildings began to thin out, interspersed with wilderness.  The road rapidly graded narrowed into a one-lane road, then gravel. 

“Is this normal?” asked Ochako. 

“We have more control over our environments than the other ones.  You’ve noticed that only Eight and Nine had multiple versions of themselves running around and being confusing.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose,” said Izuku. 

“Exactly.  Any of us could send an army of ourselves against you.  Only those two don’t have a choice about it.  Amateurs.”

“Shouldn’t they have had the same amount of time as—” started Ochako.  She broke off as a series of concrete walls topped with barbed wire rose up in front of them, scraping at the surrounding trees, shedding clumps of dirt. 

The trees fell away, leaving a clear, baren space between the walls and the trees.  Slightly beyond the structure moonlight glinted off the surface of a lake. 

“Well.  Welcome to Jinoshi Lake Camp, kids.”  Tempest turned, putting her hands on her hips.  “This is where I met Ryuji.  And…”  She glanced up at the walls.  “This is as far as I go.”

“You aren’t going to show us where to find this ‘Ryuji?’” asked Aizawa. 

“I promised myself I’d never go back there.”  She jerked her head over her shoulder.  “I’m not revisiting it for you.”  She started walking away.  “Have fun.”

Chapter Text

The car didn’t seem more crowded, but it was.  Spinner had the dubious honor and privilege of being in one of Mr. Compress’s marbles, along with the doctor.  Midoriya Inko sat in his recently vacated seat. 

She was, without a single doubt, the most dangerous person in the vehicle.  Mostly because she was completely insane.  She had spent the first few minutes of driving detailing how she could blow up the car with her quirk and making sure that they knew she’d do it if she thought she had to. 

What would make her think she ‘had to’ was a mystery Tomura didn’t particularly want solved. 

He could totally see what Sensei saw in her, and he didn’t like it.  He wished he could go back to ignorance.  This questline was insane.  The whole game was going to wind up broken.  Had he killed an essential NPC at some point?

Eyeballs were small objects.  So were most organs. 

Midoriya Inko was someone Tomura could respect. 

Would Midoriya Izuku be like this, if Tomura had an actual conversation with him?  Their conversation at the mall hadn’t exactly been… normal.  Tomura could admit he’d been using his intimidation skill to move the conversation along.  Of course, Midoriya had struck him as a two-dimensional All Might fanboy at that point.  Limited dialogue options.  Killed in the next encounter.  A hidden miniboss, yes, but just a miniboss.  Not terribly important to the main campaign.  Forgotten by disc two. 

Clearly, he’d been wrong. 

Which he shouldn’t have had mixed feelings about, but definitely did. 

“Dear,” said Midoriya Inko, making everyone in the car stiffen, “do you have eczema?”

“The what?” asked Tomura, his tone too subdued to be considered snapping, because he wasn’t about to snap at someone who had convincingly demonstrated her ability to crush his organs against the inside of his abdominal cavity. 

“Oh!” said Toga.  “I know this one, Mom!  It’s a skin condition.”

Tomura pulled his hand away from where it had been scratching at his neck.  “I don’t have a skin condition.  It just itches sometimes.”

Midoriya Inko nodded.  “Yes, that sounds like eczema, I—” She stopped, blinking.  “Did you just call me ‘Mom?’”

“Yeah, is that okay?  Izu-kun and I are dating, after all!”

“No, she isn’t!” shouted Twice, the car swerving a little.  “She is not!  Only in her dreams!”

“Ah,” said Midoriya Inko.  “I see.  Well, I don’t mind you calling me that, but I think you really need to ask Izuku before you say that you’re dating.  Make sure you’re on the same page, dear.”

Toga pouted. 

“Now, where was I?  Eczema.  Izuku used to have eczema, but he grew out of it, mostly.  I still carry some cream with me.  Do you want some?”

Would refusing be dangerous? 

Was the cream secretly poison?

Was this a complex scheme to get under his skin?

“Oh, Izuku mutters like that, too,” said Midoriya Inko, happily.  “You remind me quite a bit of when he was going through his antisocial phase, actually.  It would be funny if it turned out that you were related, wouldn’t it?  Quite a coincidence, hm?  One I’ll have to talk to my husband about.”  The last sentence was as hard as diamonds and as poisonous as cyanide.

Tomura once again decided that he regretted everything. 

.

“This is terrible,” whispered Tsuyu for the fifth or sixth time. 

“Tres mal,” agreed Aoyama. 

“Is it bad that I can completely believe All Might wrote this?” asked Satou. 

“Why would it be bad?” asked Shouji. 

“Because it’s so… bad.”

“And yet,” said Yaoyorozu, “oddly compelling.”

“Why does he use so much English?” grumbled Mineta. 

“What a mad banquet of darkness,” said Fumikage, who was, nevertheless, also reading the fanfic on his phone. 

“But, like, it makes it pretty obvious that All Might thinks the world of Midoriya,” said Kaminari.  “Do you think he knew that other people could read this?”

“I mean,” said Jiro.  “He had to, right?  It wasn’t like he was born in the nineteen hundreds.”

“I don’t know, sometimes you’ve got to wonder.  Like… sometimes it’s as if he was grown in a lab to be the perfect hero, you know?”

“Kaminari, stop trying to be Todoroki, please,” said Fumikage.  “You do not need to dip yourself into the darkness.”

“I’m just saying,” said Kaminari.  “And it isn’t as if we don’t know that there are a bunch of mad scientist types that would do just that, plus the Hero Commission is psychotic—”

“That’s unkind to psychotic people,” said Fumikage, glowering.  “You know, most psychotic people never hurt anyone.  The incidence of villainy among people who experience psychosis isn’t significantly higher than among the general population.”

“Sorry, man, just a figure of speech.”

The bus slowly came to a stop outside UA’s gates. 

“My switch isn’t working,” said Green Light as he repeatedly pressed a button on his dash.  “I guess they’re still on lockdown.  We’ll have to wait for Nezu to come let us in.”

“Still?” asked Midnight.  “Midoriya isn’t even in the city anymore, as far as we know.”

“Not that he was ever a threat to the school,” mumbled Present Mic, his quirk making him loud enough to be heard regardless. 

Fumikage, having finished the fanfic some time ago, looked out the window and spotted two people in suits loitering near the gate.  “Yamada-sensei, Kayama-sensei, who are those people?”

Everyone rushed over to Fumikage’s side of the bus to look out the window, rocking the vehicle. 

“Ohh,” said Present Mic.  “Yeah.  That makes sense.  Those guys are with the commission.  Yep.  Good ol’ Nezu, keeping them out.”

“Wait,” said Jiro, “does this mean we’re stuck out here, too?”

“No, no,” said Present Mic.  “He’ll have to let us in…  But then they’ll come in, too.”

“Midoriya’s room,” said Fumikage.  “They’ll want to search it.”

“Can we do something?” asked Kouda, timidly. 

“Should we do anything?” asked Tsuyu, bluntly.  “We don’t want to incriminate Midoriya even more by making it look like he’s hiding things.”

Fumikage turned to Kaminari.  “Anything new from Principal Nezu?”

“Why are you looking at me?”

“You’re the one he emailed last time.”

“Hey, Fumikage,” said Jiro, “do you think you can fly over the wall?  Maybe you can get a head start on… well, whatever, I guess.”

“I don’t think we should do anything suspicious while they’re watching,” reiterated Tsuyu. 

“Yeah, plus we really revamped campus security.  And this is Nezu we’re talking about.”

“The Rat God,” someone whispered, reverently. 

(Was that Shouji?)

“Exactly, exactly,” said Present Mic.  “So, everyone, just, please, calm down.  Just sit back down, and we’ll ride the bus to the dorms.  Like normal.”

“Yamada-sensei, nothing about this is normal,” said Tsuyu, flatly. 

“Well,” said Present Mic, “yeaaaah, okay, you got me there, listeners.”

“Nezu’s coming up,” said Green Light.  “Aw, he has Eri with him.  They’re so short together.”

“Green Light,” crackled the radio in Nezu’s voice.  “Did you forget that I have cameras and microphones installed on all our buses?”

“That’s how he knew I was the one putting together the compilation!” said Kaminari. 

Fumikage peered out the window and furtively opened it, so they could hear what was going on.  Eri was definitely there.  She was also sporting the deepest, most dismal, aura of darkness Fumikage had ever laid eyes on.  Luckily, it seemed to be aimed at the commission lackeys in the form of a smile and dead, dead eyes. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen!” said Nezu, cheerily.  “I apologize for the long wait!  As Lunch Rush indubitably told you, we had a small emergency.”

“We’ve been out here for hours.  What kind of emergency could have kept you for hours under these circumstances?”

Eri’s smile grew both broader and deader.  “Me,” she said.  “I’m the emergenny.”

“Emergency,” corrected Nezu, gently.

“Emergency,” repeated Eri. 

“I’m sorry?” said the shorter of the two investigators. 

“I’m the emergency.  I hada—” she paused, and her face pinched slightly in concentration.  “I had an emergency, because, because, you’re being mean to Deku.”

“We—”

“You’re mean,” insisted Eri.  “You’re bad guys.  Deku is the good guy, because he saved me.  Only bad guys are mean to good guys.”

“Excuse me, is this Chisaki Eri?”

Eri hissed. 

“Perhaps I could ask you to refrain from using that family name.  We’ve been trying to get past what her former guardian did to her, you understand.  Teach her morality.”

“I’ll bite you,” said Eri, malevolently. 

“Self-defense, as well,” continued Nezu.  “It’s very important for children to be able to feel safe and confident in themselves, don’t you think?  And the recent news dealt a serious blow to that.  You understand, then why I felt that it was more important to take care of my ward and other students than to greet you here.  Especially given that you wished to interview Eri-chan as well.”

“I’ll bite you,” repeated Eri.  “A lot.”

“We’ll… need a look at Midoriya’s room, first.”

“Way to go, Eri,” whispered Shinsou.

“Very well!  You’ll have to come around to the front office to fill out some paperwork.  We’ll need a physical copy of your badges, as well as a copy of your warrant, for our records…”

The gate opened, distracting Fumikage from whatever else Nezu had said.  Green Light quickly drove through, making straight to the dorms.  Fumikage snapped the window shut. 

“So, uh,” said Kaminari.  “What’re we going to do about Midoriya’s All Might shrine of a room?”

“Should we even do anything?” asked Jiro.  “If stuff is disturbed, that’s going to be suspicious.  I don’t want to get him into more trouble.”

“It’s a teenage boy’s bedroom,” said Mineta.  “The stuff in there is already disturbed.”

“Mineta, I don’t know how to tell you this,” said Kaminari, “but your experiences are not universal.”

“None of you are disturbing Midoriya’s room at all,” said Midnight, standing.  “You didn’t forget that we were here, did you?  If you say yes, we’ll have to take some time to work on your situational awareness~”

.

Nemuri hadn’t quite known what to expect from the words ‘All Might shrine.’  In her experiences, the word ‘shrine’ could, especially when applied to a person’s hobby or area of interest, could cover a vast array of displays of varying intensity. 

But Midoriya really went Plus Ultra on everything, didn’t he?

“Okay, kiddos,” said Midnight, “what would you say was the most incriminating thing in this room?”

She and Present Mic were the only ones actually in the room, but the students were gathered right outside the door. 

“Notebooks.”

Midnight nodded.  They’d get those first, then search for other places Midoriya may have put evidence of less-than-entirely-morally-upright behavior.  Not that Midnight really expected to find any. 

“Where does he keep them?” she asked. 

“He has a shelf above his desk he usually keeps them on, kero.”

Midnight looked at the shelf above Midoriya’s desk. 

It looked back at her. 

This was because it was a void.  As in, void of any notebooks.  An abyss of sorts.  Empty. 

There were no notebooks in evidence. 

“This will be a problem.”

.

“G-Gigantomachia?” asked Izuku, turning up the sweetness in his tone despite his nerves.  And pain.  Yep, there was a whole lot of pain, everywhere.  Now that he was no longer actively running for his life, it felt like he’d pulled every muscle in his body.

“Yes, Little Lord?” asked Gigantomachia, happily. 

He was like a giant dog.  Izuku almost felt bad tricking him like this, but he reminded himself that Gigantomachia was a giant, evil dog.  So. 

“Will you do something for me?”

“Of course, Little Lord!”

“Well,” said Izuku, “you remember how I said that Shigaraki Tomura and I don’t get along?”

“Yes, Little Lord!  My memory is very good!”

Izuku blinked.  “Is that a—” He cut himself off with a shake of his head.  Not the time.  “Well, I think that it might be a good idea if, ah, we established that he can’t attack me anymore.”

Gigantomachia stood up, shaking the earth and almost sending Izuku tumbling down.  “HE ATTACKED YOU?”

Maybe this would be easier than he thought.  “Yeah.  A couple times.  I’m okay, though!”  He waved his hands.  “I just think that it might be a good idea if we established a, uh, a pecking order.  Sort of.”

“I’M GOING TO PECK HIM TO DEATH.”

“Please do not actually kill him.”

“I’M GOING TO PECK HIM MOSTLY TO DEATH.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Izuku. 

“I’LL SHOW HIM YOU’RE IN CHARGE.  YOU’RE MUCH BETTER THAN HE IS.  MUCH MORE LIKE LORD.”

Wow.  That was… certainly a statement.  That Izuku was going to try his best to forget forever. 

“Right.  So.  If you see him, do that,” said Izuku, nodding. 

“OF COURSE, LITTLE LORD.”

“And, this is just a reminder, but don’t go into towns.”

“I WILL REMEMBER!”

“Great,” said Izuku.  “I’m going to go back in and, uh…”  He couldn’t say ‘plot my escape with Toshinori.’  “Rest,” he settled on.

“Oh!”  Gigantomachia crouched down, his voice suddenly whisper-soft.  Assuming rocks could be described as whispering.  “Sleep well, Little Lord!”

“Thanks,” said Izuku, beating a hasty retreat. 

.

“Stop the car!”

“But you said-!”

“Just stop the car, Twice.”

There was a not-at-all hidden ‘or else’ in those words.  Twice, once again, stopped the car. 

“Oh, my,” said Midoriya Inko, leaning forward.  “That man up there looks remarkably like the sitter Hisashi hired for Izuku.”

“Oh, god,” said Tomura, dragging his hands down the sides of his face in lieu of looking out the window.  “We aren’t prepared for this level.”

Midoriya Inko suddenly disappeared.  Tomura made a noise in the back of his throat that wasn’t at all a scream. 

Mr. Compress raised his hands defensively.  “I thought it best to marble her while she was distracted.  We wouldn’t want her to get injured in ”

“Wow!  Way to go, Mr. Compress!” said Toga, giving the other villain a hug.  “Good thinking!”

“Yeah!” agreed Twice.  “Now she can’t hurt us—But she sure can when you let her out!”

“Which is why I propose we bring her to Giran at the first feasible opportunity.  Between him and the doctor, I’m sure they can make arrangements for her that we need not be involved in.  And I will make sure we are all far, far away when I let her out.”

There was a series of sighs of relief. 

“Good idea,” croaked Tomura.  “But what are we going to do about—” He swore vehemently.  “He’s seen us, he’s seen us we’ve got aggro!  Reverse!”

.

“Is that Vlad-sensei’s car?”

“Unfortunately,” said Toshinori, “I think it is.  Oh, dear, the man’s one to hold a grudge.  I think I’ll have a new nemesis by the end of this.”

.

Today had been a very annoying day in general for Vlad King, but for some reason, his sense of annoyance suddenly doubled.  This made his hands clench and thereby tear the piece of paper he was holding. 

Scratch that.  His sense of annoyance had tripled. 

“Yagi,” he muttered, “I am going to sue you so much.”

“What was that?” asked Hound Dog, looking away from the video feed displaying Eri-chan scarring Hero Commission agents for life in her undeniably cute way. 

“Nothing,” muttered Vlad. 

.

All for One paused in his assault of the vault door.  He couldn’t help but feel like someone somewhere had said something unusually aggravating.

Ah, well.  He had other things to worry about.

.

“Ah,” said Toshinori as one of Gigantomachia’s fists tore off the bumper of the rapidly reversing car.  “Hm,” he continued as Shigaraki climbed out on the hood, grinning.  “I think we should go, now.”

Izuku nodded.  They could only hope to get far away enough away for Gigantomachia to be unable to hunt them down.

If they ran into any other problems…

.

Dabi paused as he heard quite a lot of noise from up ahead and rolled his eyes, ignoring how the movement pulled at his staples.  The idiots had already started fighting Gigantomachia.  Well.  He didn’t want any part of that. 

He changed directions.  Hanging out in the woods it was, then. 

Eh.  It was good for him.  Fresh (cold) air.  Sunshine (sort of).  Readily available reminders of why he hated his father. 

Nature was great.  If only he could burn it all down without blowing cover.

.

“Oh, no,” said a hapless technician.

“What?” asked the commission supervisor who’d brough the sample to the lab.  “What is it?  Is he related to the Scourge of Kamino?”

“Well,” squeaked the woman, her mousy ears twitching.  “Yes.  But I ran him through a few other databases as well, and…” she trailed off.  “Well…  The number of cross references in the hero database is staggering, but, of course, if he’s related to them, and to the other, well…”

The commission supervisor grabbed the edge of her monitor and twisted it around to face him.  She watched the blood drain from his face and refrained from calling him out on his rudeness. 

“Why,” he asked, “didn’t they run the Scourge of Kamino’s DNA through these databases?”

“I guess they didn’t think it was necessary?”

“Excuse me,” he said, “I have to make a few calls.”

.

“You want us to attack the League of Villains now?” asked Hawks, frowning.  “You’ve had me following them around for weeks, and you want us to go in now, with next to no preparation?  We don’t even know if the rest of the League is with Dabi.”

What had they found out from Midoriya’s blood sample?  Had it turned out the way Dabi had expected. 

Was Midoriya Izuku the son of All for One?

“Alright, alright,” he said in response to his handler.  He sighed deeply, leaning back to better look at the sky.  “But even I’m going to need a couple hours to get everything together and start coordinating with other heroes.  I’m—Sir, I really don’t think I’m going to be able to take them all on just with myself and my sidekicks.  Midoriya probably isn’t with them to begin with—I’m not questioning you, sir.  I just don’t understand our objective in attacking them now.  Why are we rushing?  It seems counterpro—Yes, sir.”  The line beeped loudly as it disconnected. 

Well.  All this had been a monumental waste of time. 

It also boded ill for Midoriya.  It sounded as if he’d become an even greater target than before, and considering that the commission had been labeling him a villain even before testing his DNA…  Something bigger than being related to All for One must have come out.  Something that had scared the commission.  Something they would scrap their stealth- and intelligence-based plan for dealing with the League for.  Something they wanted gone.  Locked away with Midoriya.

Hawks couldn’t imagine what that could be.  Maybe he was related to All Might?  Or Endeavor?  All Might wouldn’t be bad, he was never publicly in a relationship, but then he’d always been private about his personal life.  But Endeavor… that’d be a scandal and a half.

But, if either of those were the case, why were they so sure he’d be with the League of Villains?  It didn’t make sense.  Unless…  Unless Midoriya wasn’t the only one related to All for One. 

At least they weren’t asking him to kill the kid.  The mission was capture.

Which meant that Hawks had to come up with some way of letting an injured and probably exhausted teenager and a severely disabled old man escape without looking like he was letting them escape.  Or looking like an incompetent idiot.  Again.  Because he wasn’t about to bring Midoriya in under circumstances this shady.  Maybe before, when he thought it was just trumped-up kidnapping charges, but with this uncertainty…

Commission lackey or not, Hawks was still a hero.  Sometimes that meant he put aside personal feelings for the good of society, and sometimes it meant that he ignored orders so a minor wouldn’t be indefinitely imprisoned at a commission black site. 

Fun times. 

He sighed and gathered in his feathers, angling down into a dive.  Time to get to work. 

.

Ochako kept seeing things out of the corners of her eye.  Shadow in the shape of people, in the shape of children.  Stains on the walls. 

The hallways were scrupulously clean.  Spotless.  Empty.  Brightly lit. 

Todoroki had mentioned smelling smoke a few times and had started gagging for no reason once or twice.  Iida kept twitching as if he had heard something.  Aizawa appeared unaffected, but Ochako could see the way he gripped his capture weapon and the rigidness of his spine. 

Izuku looked resigned.  

“Did they really—” started Iida.

“Yes,” said Izuku.  “Almost certainly.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Todoroki.

“You’re only getting fragments of Three’s memories, since she’s suppressing this,” said Izuku.  “But…”  He twitched, slightly.  “It’s going to get worse the farther we go.  The places she was in…”  His voice was soft, sing-song, not quite entirely there. 

“Izuku?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m focusing on something else outside.”

“Please tell me you aren’t fighting pro heroes again,” said Aizawa. 

“No, I’m escaping from the League of Villains right now.”

“How?”

“Mm.  Great question.  I’ll tell you how it goes later, if it works.”

“That’s not what I—”

An ear-splitting, bone-chilling scream filled the air, making everyone flinch and clench.  Something crackled overhead. 

“Incident response team to hallway C.  Code Blue.”

More screaming.  This time, Ochako had a better idea of where it was coming from, and it seemed like everyone else, did, too. 

They ran past classrooms that were alternately empty and full of shadow people, past soulless dormitory rooms stuffed with bunk beds, past cells and rooms Ochako didn’t even want to think about. 

A pair of dark-skinned girls stood in the hallway, one holding a bloody hand to her throat, the other baring her teeth.  The lights flickered.  Dimmed.

The girls were gone by the time the lights came back on. 

The hallway they were in was full of operating theaters, complete with lights over the door.  Ochako felt sick. 

But she was used to dealing with nausea.  She took a deep breath and swallowed.  

“What now?” she asked.  The quaver in her voice was barely audible.

“Now…” Aizawa turned slowly in place.  “We’re trying to find where they met Ryuji.”

“Two,” said Izuku, nodding. 

“So, the most likely place for that…”  He trailed off.  “The most likely place for that is in the… residential areas.”  He sounded disgusted with himself for referring to a prison with such bland terms.

“We passed something like that,” said Todoroki, quietly. 

“Right,” said Aizawa.  “Let’s go.”

.

The way back was much more… crowded.  The memories were more tangible.  Ochako quickly taught herself not to look in any of the rooms.  Not that it helped much with what they saw in the halls themselves.

Izuku’s distraction only grew worse as they went further.  He kept trying to follow, or sometimes fight, the memory ghosts. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled.  “Focusing on something else.”

“Just don’t die on us, problem child.”

“We’re doing okay,” said Izuku. 

This was, of course, when the facility’s alarm went off. 

“Intruder alert.  Intruder alert.  Intruder alert.”

.

Izuku couldn’t hear the sound of the fight between the League and Machia anymore.  This meant that either the fighting had stopped, or they had moved out of earshot. 

Despite the League having a car (Vlad-sensei’s car) Izuku doubted that the fight had gotten all that far away. 

Next to him, Toshinori winced.  Izuku looked at him with concern, but Toshinori waved it off. 

Izuku took a shaky breath. 

They just had to keep going. 

.

Twice had, perhaps predictably, backed the car up into a ditch, where, despite the amount of pressure he put on the accelerator, it stayed.  Stuck.  Perhaps forever. 

All members of the League of Villains that were not crazy enough to crawl onto the outside of a moving car to fight a homicidal giant climbed out.  All members, meaning a single member.  A single member, ironically, being Twice. 

At least he hadn’t been going very fast when he ran into the ditch. 

“Everyone okay? –Of course, they’re not!  You were in a car crash, idiots!”

“Come help us fight!” ordered Shigaraki.  “We were in the middle of something, you know, stupid level boss!  Keep having to save scum I hate you aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Well, that wasn’t a good sign. 

“Where’s Himiko?” he shouted.

“Over here, silly!” said the second Shigaraki, because, yeah.  Twice had forgotten he hadn’t duplicated Shigaraki. 

Man, he was dumb sometimes.  It was great he had friends to help him with that!

He dove into the fight which, ever so slightly, ever so slowly, began to move away from the car. 

.

Izuku’s head throbbed sharply, and he stumbled, Toshinori just managing to catch him before he faceplanted.  Four and the other past users hissed at him from the back of his mind. 

Someone’s coming.  Hide. 

They were in no condition for another fight. 

Toshinori nodded sharply, and pulled Izuku aside, into some bushes.  Izuku tried to breathe quietly but was painfully aware that both he and Toshinori were out of breath and raspy.  Ragged.  They’d been aiming for speed, not stealth, counting on the sounds of combat to cover them. 

But if someone was out here—

Izuku smelled smoke.  A branch snapped.  He held his breath, despite the way his lungs longed for more oxygen.  Had Dabi been in the car?  Izuku hadn’t seen him.  He hadn’t seen any blue fire.  It wasn’t like Dabi to hold back. 

A pair of black booted feet came into view. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

.

They found Two standing in a hallway, surrounded by the bodies of soldiers.  A small horde of shadow children clung to his legs. 

When he laid eyes on Izuku, he sighed. 

“Does the world ever give you a break?” he asked.

“Not that I’ve noticed,” said Izuku. 

Chapter Text

“It’s Bakugo.”

“Old Bakugo,” said Todoroki.

“I don’t know,” said Uraraka.  “He hasn’t sworn at us yet.”

“Wish fulfillment old Bakugo,” corrected Todoroki. 

First contact, said two voices.  Aizawa could recognize one as belonging to Two.

“Stop comparing me to the exploding brat,” snapped Two.  He returned his attention to Midoriya.  “I don’t agree with your philosophy,” he said.  “But this isn’t the time or the place.”

Midoriya nodded even as he swayed in place, the edges of his body fuzzy. 

“Your idea will work.  Eight can take him.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Aizawa. 

“Nine here just ran into that fire user.”

“Dabi,” supplied Midoriya, voice thin.  “Thank you for letting me use your quirk, sensei.”

“Anytime,” said Aizawa.

“Is there anything we can do?” asked Uraraka. 

“Stay back and don’t distract him,” said Two.  “I’d send you on ahead to One, but I need to give him my power if he wants his ridiculous escape plan to work.”  He crossed his arms.  “Focus, Nine.”

.

The thing was, Dabi relied on his quirk to the exclusion of everything else.  Which was fine.  It was a powerful quirk, and his body really wasn’t up to quirkless fighting, seeing as it was literally stapled together. 

But there was a reason he had not faced Aizawa himself in the training camp, but instead had delegated that task to one of Twice’s duplicates.  No matter how much his quirk hurt him, no matter how much it reminded him of that man and that time, he did not fare well in fights without it. 

Toshinori and Izuku had picked up on this, and, thanks to the joys of partial telepathy and haunted quirks, had managed to come up with a plan. 

It was, if Izuku was being honest, a sort of terrible plan, but Izuku and Toshinori were both injured and exhausted, and it was the best they could come up with. 

Izuku would hang back and cancel Dabi’s quirk, while Toshinori beat him to a pulp. 

This division of labor was decided upon through the observation that Toshinori had much greater experience in beating people to pulp and that Izuku probably wouldn’t be able to focus on using Aizawa’s quirk and fighting at the same time.  But Izuku worried.  Toshinori had been under so much strain today.  His body was in just as bad a shape as Dabi’s.  If Izuku blinked. 

So don’t blink. 

What a comforting consensus from the peanut gallery in the back of his head. 

Nana chuckled, but she sounded strained.  Not much else we can do for you right now, kid. 

.

Toshinori was prepared to fight dirty. 

As a hero and Symbol of Peace, he was often faced with the expectation that his fights be clean, straightforward affairs.  Usually, he complied with the expectation.  Few people could match his strength.  Few enemies stood up again or kept fighting after he knocked them back, once.  For those enemies who could match him, relatively clean fights were often still the best option to defeat them. 

But there had always been exceptions, All for One being chief among them. 

Toshinori could fight dirty.  It was a skill he knew better than to let lapse. 

He knew how much old injuries could hurt, and he had no scruple against going after them.  Any weak point was fair game. 

(This wasn’t even beginning to mention the others, still whispering in the back of his mind, who had maintained the thin line between the light of hope and the darkness of despair for so many years.)

His fist impacted the line of Dabi’s medical staples.  Toshinori felt them bite into his knuckles, felt Dabi’s skin tear around them. 

The man – the boy, really, he couldn’t be more than a handful of years older than Izuku – reeled back, shaking his hands as if he couldn’t quite believe his quirk was gone.  Then he looked up, at Izuku, and Toshinori could give him this, at least: He caught on fast. 

He snapped an arm out, clotheslining Dabi before he could pass him and attack Izuku.  Dabi hit the ground, and Toshinori tried to follow up his advantage with a sharp kick to the head. 

But, even with as much experience as Toshinori had, Dabi was younger and sprier.  He recovered quickly, retaliating with comparatively clumsy but strong fists. 

Toshinori was very aware of the time limit he was on.  How long had Izuku kept his eyes open already?  Aizawa could only keep his version of the quirk going for a few minutes. 

He knew when Izuku started to waver, the concern of the past users going clear and sharp in the back of his head. 

Dabi’s hands burst into flame.

“Touya!” shouted Izuku. 

The man whipped his head around, apparently forgetting that Toshinori was even there. 

“We saw your hair dye, you drama queen!”

Toshinori grabbed the sides of Dabi’s head, and tried to slam it into his knee, but Dabi pulled free.  They were both breathing heavily, now, but Izuku had his eyes back open and fixed on Dabi. 

Toshinori doubted they’d be so lucky to distract Dabi again.  The others slid into place in his mind, their experience neatly complimenting his own. They needed to finish it before Izuku had to blink again. 

They raised their fists.

“Visit your mom, you loser!”

They closed in.

“At least tell the police what happened to you, so they can get your siblings out!”

.

So, it turned out Izuku did have something else to contribute to the fight.

.

“Please repeat what you told me earlier,” ordered the HPSC president. 

The hapless liaison with the DNA testing center flinched, then hid the flinch behind a cough.  “Well,” he said, “our technicians ran Midoriya’s DNA through a number of databases, and Midoriya is related to the Scourge of Kamino, but, uh, I think it best if I let her explain the rest.”  He stepped out of view of the camera, the coward. 

The technician waved at the camera.  “Hi, uh.  So, I guess the first weird thing about the sample you gave me was how contaminated it was.  There were, like, almost a dozen different people’s worth of DNA in the sample you gave me, which… usually Hawks is better than that?  But then I remembered the nomu DNA, and the Scourge’s DNA, so in retrospect…  Anyway, I sort of ran them all through our databases—”

“Which databases?” interrupted Mr. Brave.  “The commission ones, the police ones, the public ancestry ones?”

“All of them,” said the technician.  “I ran them through the old ones, too, because the Scourge of Kamino is supposed to be over a hundred years old, isn’t he?  I’m kind of surprised he wasn’t run through the old databases himself earlier.  You could have closed dozens of cases.”

“Get on with it,” hissed the offscreen commission liaison. 

“But I ran them through, and, uh, one was All Might.”

A whisper ran through the room.  “He stole All Might’s quirk?” asked one hero, traumatized. 

“I don’t know,” said the technician, nervously.  “I mean, All Might was there, so it could have just been contaminated in the normal way, but…  No, I’ll come back to All Might’s DNA in a bit.  Then there were three other heroes’ DNA, Skyrunner, Fidelity, and Lariat.”

“We’ll have to assume he has their quirks, too,” said the commission president grimly, for the benefit of the assembled heroes.  “Continue.”

“Another matched to the vigilante Forewarning.  Then one matched to what was labeled as a 99% surety DNA sequence from Tempest.”

“My god,” said Mr. Brave.

“Then there were some sequences that matched to samples taken from the scenes of various crimes and terrorist actions but are otherwise unknown.  That left two DNA samples that could be Midoriya’s assuming he isn’t over a hundred years old.  They both matched as relatives to the Scourge of Kamino.”

“What kind of relatives?”

“Uh, one was rather distant, and was actually had the least DNA present out of all the other strands…  The closest possible relation would be half-brother, although cousins might be possible…  The other was a parent-child relationship, and the most present DNA sequence, so I would assume that one belonged to Midoriya.  The thing is…”  She trailed off. 

“We don’t have all day.”

“The thing is, all of the different people I’ve mentioned also are related to the Scourge of Kamino.”

Silence. 

“Excuse me,” said Mt. Lady, raising a hand.  “Did you say all of them?  Like, including—”

“Including All Might, yes, though he’s probably more like a great-grandson or something along those lines,” said the technician.  “Once you get more than a generation or two, it’s hard to tell, because the ratios of what you get from grandparents aren’t even…”

“Do you have anything more to add?”

“Yeah.  After running them through the databases…  Well, there are dozens of active heroes that are at least loosely related to either them or the Scourge of Kamino, not to mention villains, common criminals, and civilians who had to register their DNA for one reason or another.  And the ShiHi cell line?  The one that replaced the HeLa line in almost every drug trial after the quirked population got majority status?  That’s a perfect match.”  She laughed, clearly on the edge of hysteria.  “I mean, I don’t know what we expected.  He’s over a century old, of course he’s going to have kids and family members.  And he’s – And he’s clearly into shady medical research.  Wouldn’t put it past him to have donated to sperm banks, the sick—”

The commission president muted the technician.  “You see,” he told the heroes, “why we must act to contain and neutralize Midoriya Izuku as a threat as soon as possible.  So many heroes being related to an archvillain like the Scourge of Kamino would damage confidence in the hero system, perhaps irreparably.”

“Are any of us-?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant right now, do you?” asked the commission president, smoothly.  “What is relevant is ensuring that Midoriya’s DNA family tree never gets into public hands.”  He fell quiet, scanning the heroes with dark eyes.  “Regardless of whether or not any of you could find yourselves in it, the fact of the matter is that the ensuing investigations would lay bare other things you may not wish to come to light.”  He cleared his throat.  “Now, Hawks is putting together a team to track down the League of Villains.  In light of recent revelations, we believe they have been working closely with Midoriya…”

.

“Maybe you can use my quirk,” said Shouto.  “If you’re fighting Dabi, ice would be the perfect counter.”

Midoriya shook his head.  “You’re not related.  Can’t.”

“What?”

Two sighed.  “The trick he did with your teacher’s quirk only works on people related to him.”

Shouto blinked, then turned to look at Aizawa.  “Sensei—”

“Absolutely not,” said Iida, loudly. 

“You don’t know what I was going to say,” protested Shouto. 

“You can’t ask people if they have secret love children!  It’s improper!  Let us simply wait quietly like, ah, I’m not sure we caught your name earlier, sir.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Two. 

“In any case, let us wait quietly,” said Iida, not one to be easily put out. 

“I’m related to Midoriya?” asked Aizawa in tones approaching despair.

“You are,” said Two.  “I think you’re related to one of my younger siblings, like Six is.  Possibly to the Shimuras, as well, given the secondary portion of your quirk.”

“So,” said Shouto, the gears in his brain turning, “Midoriya is related to all of you?”

“Some more distantly than others, but, yes.”

“So, he based you off relatives and people he knew in real life.”

Two sighed heavily.  “Look.  That was obviously a lie.  Six only bothered with it because of that government bastard that’s crawling around.”

Midoriya had been right.  Shouto’s conspiracy theories could be used as an interrogation technique. 

“Then what’s the truth?” asked Shouto.  “Or are you just embarrassed, like Midoriya is about how All Might is clearly his father?”

Midoriya made a very distressed sound, and Shouto realized that maybe this wasn’t the time. 

“You have no room to talk when the pyromaniac currently trying to roast Eight is your older brother, you peppermint styled weirdo.”

“You really are like Bakugo.”

“Do you have some sort of death wish?”

“C-can you guys not?  This is hard…” said Midoriya.  Then, he gasped and fell to his knees.  “He got him.  Oh, gosh.”  He took a deep breath.  “My eyes.”

“Luckily, you won’t need them for this,” said Two, kneeling in front of Midoriya.  “In the movement, I was called Shadow Dragon.  One came up with the name.  He named my quirk, too.  Perception Filter.  Wanted to name it Chameleon Circuit for a while, but that made no sense.  He was such a nerd.  He’s still a nerd.”

“Yeah?” panted Midoriya.  “Guess that… isn’t a surprise.  He used old manga to support his arguments with—No, it doesn’t make it better that you only used that argument once.  I mean, sure, I’d probably have made the same—”

“Focus, Nine,” said Two, snapping his fingers in front of Midoriya’s face. 

Shouto stepped forward. 

“It’s okay, Todoroki,” said Midoriya. “I’m just… How did it work?  The Perception Filter?”

“No idea.  We didn’t have fancy tests and doctors on hand to figure out the mechanics.  But I can tell you what it did.  When it first came in—” Midoriya nodded at this, as if he heard something in the sentence that Shouto was missing, “—I could disappear from the senses of one targeted person, along with anything I was carrying.  Sight, hearing, smell – that last will be the important one for you.”

“Gigantomachia,” said Midoriya, nodding again. 

“Exactly.  Later, I was able to affect more people at a time, and my range grew.  The fewer people I was hiding from, the farther I could reach, up to about a mile.  Sometimes, I could draw attention towards myself, too, although I could never keep it up for long.”

“Activation?” asked Midoriya. 

“Don’t think too hard about being hidden.  You’re blending in.  Part of the scenery.  No ripples on the surface of the pond.  A shadow inside a shadow.”

“Okay,” said Midoriya. “I think I’ve got it.  Were you… were you ever able to hide other people with you?  Otherwise…”

“Sometimes I thought I did.  When Three and I worked together, we were always way luckier than we should have been, and there were some incidents with cars…  But it never happened in a way I could test.  Your best bet is just carrying Eight.”

“R-right.  Okay.  I’ll try that.”

.

“Izuku, you can barely open your eyes.  Or stand up.  You aren’t going to carry me.”

“But Two said—”

Toshinori frowned deeply and hoped Two got the message.  “Just focus on yourself, right now, alright?  Gigantomachia will be looking for you, first, not me.”

We’ve always been thankful Gigantomachia isn’t the brightest of All for One’s minions.

Even if he is one of the most annoying. 

I don’t know if annoying is the word I’d use…

Toshinori blinked and shook his head.  “You’re shaking,” he said. 

“I’m okay,” said Izuku, trying to get up.  “T’many quirks at once.”

Toshinori put his hands on Izuku’s shoulders, silently telling him to stay down.  What a time to forget where he had packed the blankets…  Although…

He looked back at where he’d propped Dabi, unconscious, up against a tree. 

Dabi seemed to have a cold resistance vestigial mutation… although how Toshinori knew that was a mystery for another day (one probably connected with how One for All manifested in Izuku) and he was a fire quirk user.  He didn’t really need that jacket.  Besides, Toshinori was a villain now.  Sort of.  As he and Izuku had discussed earlier, villains were veritable bastions of pettiness. 

He stole Dabi’s coat and wrapped it around Izuku’s shoulders. 

.

Miles away, trying to coordinate heroes over a video call, Hawks lost contact with one of his feathers.  Specifically, the one he’d hidden in Dabi’s coat.  He did not frown, twitch, stutter, or otherwise falter.  He did, however, curse internally, using words he suspected the hero commission would have like him to never have learned. 

Dabi must have found the feather and destroyed it.  Hawks had thought he’d hidden it better than that.

This was going to be a pain to explain. 

.

Giagantomachia paused for a second, then, with a howl, redoubled his attacks. 

“Can anyone tell what he’s screaming about?” demanded Tomura.

“No idea!” said Toga, her cheerfulness more than a little ragged. 

“Hey, boss!” said Twice.  “If I made a double of this guy, do you think they’d fight each other, or – Dear god, who in their right mind would want two of these things running around?”

“LITTLE LORD,” wailed Machia, “WHERE DID YOU GO?”

“Say, Shigaraki,” said Mr. Compress, narrowly dodging a boulder, “you don’t – ha – think he’s referring to the little green haired – er, white haired – oh, you know what I mean.”

Yeah, Tomura did, actually, which meant the brat (who might be Sensei’s brat – don’t think about it) was around here somewhere, and they’d missed him. 

(Like everything else about this situation, Tomura had mixed feelings about this.)

“So, maybe, if the boy and the giant are acquainted, the mother—”

“Do all of you idiots have a death wish?  You don’t fight two bosses at once unless you want to be pancaked.”

“I was thinking she could perhaps calm the giant—”

“Yeah, right before they team up to kill us.  What part of this are you not getti-?”

Mr. Compress didn’t quite make the dodge and was catapulted into one of the few nearby trees that were still standing.  As he lost consciousness, all of the various marbles in his pockets ballooned and broke, disgorging their contents.  This meant that Tomura had to rescue Midoriya Inko from being crushed between an entire bus stop shelter (why, Compress, why?) and several logs, because if there was even a chance that she was Sensei’s wife, Tomura didn’t fancy his chances at staying alive if she was unalived in his general vicinity. 

As Tomura was in no way a goody-two-shoes hero student, had never trained himself to safely save people, and had a quirk that literally destroyed everything his touched, this went far from perfectly. 

At least Midoriya seemed unharmed.

“Ah,” she said.  “My shirt.”  She shifted slightly.  “And my bra…”

There was a shout of utter rage from Gigantomachia, and Tomura contemplated just letting Machia kill him.  Surely, being stomped flat by a man taller than most five story buildings would be less painful than whatever Sensei would come up with. 

“Oh, my, Machia, is that you?” asked Midoriya Inko, quite calmly, as if she weren’t standing half naked in the middle of a battlefield in winter.  “It’s been forever.”

“MRS. LORD!” shouted Machia, his eyes tearing up.  “I AM SO SORRY!  I LOST LITTLE LORD!”

“Oh, really?  He was here, then?”  Her eyes were glittering.  “I’m sure he couldn’t have gone too far.  If we walk around a bit, I’m sure he’ll hear us calling.  In the meantime… perhaps you can explain to me what, exactly, you do for my husband?  Your role in his business seems to have been downplayed.”

.

“Is that better?” asked Toshinori. 

Izuku nodded tiredly.  Despite Two’s instructions, he couldn’t keep up Perception Filter and, well, do anything else, really.  Toshinori wasn’t much better.  Izuku could tell, through One for All, that he was also on his last legs. 

“Alright.  Let’s keep going the way we were before,” said Toshinori, pulling Izuku up.  “Got to get out of Gigantomachia’s range, so you can sleep.”

He did not say that reaching the Wild Wild Pussycats’ camp was now out of the question, with how beaten up they were.  They’d be sleeping outside tonight.  Hopefully they had enough clothes and blankets…

Izuku shuddered as the pounding sensation in his head increased. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” said Toshinori, guiding Izuku with a hand on his back.  “Good, you have the briefcase, good.”  Toshinori kept muttering encouragement.  Izuku really wasn’t paying attention, which made him feel terrible, but he had to keep Perception Filter going.  He had to keep going.  Just a little bit more… Aizawa-sensei and his friends were almost to One.  One would get them out before he broke through.

He just had to hold on until then.

.

Midoriya’s form flickered and then faded.  Two sighed. 

“Is he alright?” asked Aizawa.  “Is he safe?”

“As safe as he and Eight can be, wandering through a forest filled with All for One’s minions while the government tries to track him down in the middle of winter,” replied Two.  “Which isn’t very safe, speaking from experience.  Come on, let’s go.”  Two walked out the hole in the wall, not waiting to see if Aizawa or any of the kids followed. 

“You’re calling Yagi Eight, now?” asked Aizawa.

“That’s his number, yeah.  Hurry up.”

“Yagi, not Yagi’s… impression, his copy in Midoriya’s mind.”  Two didn’t answer.  “You aren’t impressions or copies at all, are you?  You’re real people, somewhere, that Midoriya is connected to.  Why pretend otherwise?”

“Some of the others thought Nine could fix things with the government, if they didn’t know what was really going on.  Thought it would be ‘worth it.’  So stupid, after everything…”  They walked through the compound gate and into a living room. 

“It seems awfully contrived, though.  Why try to be dead heroes?  Why pick people like Skyrunner and Fidelity to impersonate?”

Two snorted.  “They weren’t impersonating anyone.  They really are Skyrunner and Fidelity.  Except for Eight and Nine, we’re all dead, otherwise we would have finished this by now.  Eight almost did, all on his own.”

They turned a corner.  Two young children played in a bedroom while a teen watched on.  One child was obviously a younger version of Two.  That hair was distinctive.  The other child had a short curtain of white hair.  They had action figures they were playing with, although Aizawa didn’t recognize who they were of. 

First contact, said a single, young voice.  

The face of the teen leaning against the wall was scribbled out, as if with a marker. 

“Don’t look too closely at that one,” said Two. 

“Who is that?” asked Uraraka. 

“All for One.  I suppose you’d call him the Scourge of Kamino.”

“He’s your older brother?” asked Todoroki, his eyebrows raised into his hairline. 

“Don’t be disgusting.  Biologically speaking, he was my cousin.”

Oh, no, thought Aizawa, don’t tell me... “Is he the one you have locked away?  The one you don’t count as being ‘among your number?’”

Two sighed again. 

“Are you doing that instead of swearing?” asked Todoroki.  “The sighing, I mean.”

“I told you to stop comparing me to the explosion brat!  I—” Two tsked, then frowned.  “Something’s not right.”

“What is it?”

“This isn’t a safe memory, just a quick one.  One should have been here to pick you up by now.”

“What do you mean, it isn’t safe?” asked Iida, before Aizawa could.  “No matter how immersed we are here, it is only a memory, isn’t it?”

“You did hear the part where he’s breaking in, didn’t you?  And the part where we’re all real people?  Are those glasses just for show?”

“The real All for One is trying to break into Midoriya’s mind,” said Aizawa. 

“W-wait,” said Uraraka, “but… Izuku… That wouldn’t mean that the commission was right…”

“Of course not.  Nine would probably cut off all his limbs before betraying his friends.  Even if I don’t agree with him, and think he shouldn’t…  I can still see that.  But where is One?”

“Why are you telling us this?” asked Aizawa.  “You’ve told us why the others didn’t.  But you have no reason to say anything, yourself, do you?”

Two turned slightly, to gaze at Aizawa out of the corner of his eye. 

“As long as we’re waiting, I might as well collect as much information as possible, right?”

“It’s insurance,” said Two, finally.  “It’s hard to see how this will turn out.  Eight wants to take Nine out of the country, but even if that works, All for One will still be here.  Someone else needs at least part of the story.”  He turned more fully to face Aizawa, lips pressed tight against his teeth.  “You have to understand.  I want Nine to… do well.  I don’t want this on him.  He’s a kid.  So are you.”  He looked at the students, then back at Aizawa.  “You’re all kids.  If I can get someone else to take care of this for him, while he and Eight are somewhere safe…”

“All for One is in Tartarus,” said Aizawa. 

“You think something like that’s going to stop him?  I’m not entirely sure death would stop him.  It didn’t stop us, and he’s at least as stubborn.”

Well, wasn’t this an impossibly heavy weight to set on Aizawa’s shoulders. 

“I have no sympathy, you lazy caterpillar lookalike.  You’re an adult, aren’t you?  Get help if you can’t do it yourself.  If I find out you pushed it onto children, I’ll kill you.”

“Wow, he’s secretly soft, too, just like Bakugo,” said Todoroki.  “Are you sure you’re not related.”

“There is legitimately something wrong with you.  Do you—”

.

The hinges of the vault snapped, and the door crumpled outward.  Another well-placed kick sent the door tumbling outward with a crash. 

Shaking his hand, All for One stepped into the mindscape and smiled. 

“Well,” he said, dragging his gaze over the assembled One for All users, his sworn enemies and the closest thing he had to family, “isn’t this a lovely little reunion?”

Chapter Text

Toshinori pushed himself up off the ground with trembling arms.  Although, by the position of the sun, it hadn’t been for long, he’d blacked out when—

“Oh, no,” said Toshinori.  His head throbbed at the sound, making the edges of his vision go dark and fuzzy.

When All for One had broken through into the shared mindscape.  

“Oh, no,” he repeated.  

Where was Izuku?  He had to find—Oh, thank goodness, Izuku was right there.  He let out a sigh of relief.  

His relief was short-lived.  Izuku, to put it lightly, did not look well.  His eyes were open, but only glazed slivers.  His breath was coming shallow and fast, not quite to the point of hyperventilating, but it was a close thing.  His skin was pale, except for deep, bruise-like circles under his eyes.  He was sweating more than Toshinori had ever seen him sweat (which was really saying something; Izuku broke out into nervous sweats with some frequency).  Perhaps most concerningly, he was shaking like a leaf.

Izuku was, Toshinori realized, still maintaining the effect of Two’s quirk.  

He tried to reach inside himself, contact his predecessors, but swiftly pulled his mental fingers back, as if they had been burned.  Bad idea.  

“Izuku,” he said, “can you hear me?”

Izuku made a small, pained noise that tore at Toshinori’s heart.  

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” he said.  Izuku didn’t answer, but then Toshinori didn’t expect him to.  

The simple act forced Toshinori to call on the embers of One for All.  Not enough to make his muscles swell, but enough to give him the strength of an ordinary, healthy man.  His muscles and his remaining intact lung screamed in protest, not to mention his scars.  He ignored them.  

He stumbled forward, priorities shuffling themselves.  They’d been trying to escape, but if Izuku was this ill… he needed a doctor.  An exorcist might be a good idea, too, what with All for One running around in their heads.  

But to get a doctor, they’d have to put themselves in commission hands, and Toshinori could feel the echoes of Two and Three telling him exactly how stupid that would be.  

The commission had sent Hawks after Izuku.  Toshinori had no doubt they’d throw him in Tartarus, and the treatment of criminals in Tartarus was one of the few things Toshinori had publicly disagreed with the HPSC on in his hero persona.  Not that it had gone anywhere.  He simply hadn’t had the time to really push it and the commission had somehow managed to paint him as somehow too good, too forgiving, to be trusted when it came to the disposition of terrible villains.  

“’ll be’kay,” mumbled Izuku, the sentiment clearer over their mental link.  “N’ospital.”

“Okay,” said Toshinori, slightly breathless.  “Let’s—Let’s keep going, then.  Find a good place to camp out, far away from Todoroki Touya, here.  Yep.”  He was aware he was rambling, and needlessly at that, but he couldn’t help it.  

One foot in front of the other.  

Was that a car running?

Toshinori, keen on getting help and care for Izuku, even if it meant hijacking a car, changed directions slightly.  Of course, it would be ideal if there were friendly bystanders who didn’t believe the hero commissions lies and had a medical license and a healing quirk, but Toshinori would be more than happy with—

He stopped.  Laughed.  Laughed some more, a little hysterically.  There, abandoned in a ditch like a beached sailing ship, was Vlad King’s much abused car.  

Sure, it would have been reported stolen by now, and the police and heroes would be looking for it, but that was a problem for future-Toshinori.  Present-Toshinori, on the other hand, was simply grateful for the windfall, and wary – the presence of the car could indicate the proximity of the League of Villains.  

He gently put Izuku down in the passenger seat, turned the car off and made sure it was in the appropriate gear, then walked around to the back of the car and lifted it out of the ditch.  

If his muscles had been complaining before—

He staggered back to the driver’s seat, leaning heavily on the side of the car the whole time.  Blood dripped from his mouth.  “This is nothing, my boy, nothing,” he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, as he felt Izuku’s concern press heavily against him.  “Used to have worse every day of the week.”

Toshinori got the sense that Izuku was not, in fact, reassured.  Nevertheless, he grinned, pouring every drop of his fabled ‘everything will be alright’ smile into the expression.  Even if Izuku couldn’t see it, Toshinori needed some of the comfort that came with donning a familiar mask  

“Let’s see if we can get to the Wild Wild Pussycats today, after all.”

.

“Eri-chan,” began Abe, tapping together her papers.  She’d drawn the short stick.  Ito was interviewing one of the older students, and Abe got the feral child.  

“No,” said Eri.  

“I didn’t even ask you a question yet.”

“Only people I like get to call me -chan.  That’s the rule.  Prinzible Nezu said so.”

“Principal,” corrected Nezu, cheerfully, like the unhelpful rodent rat bastard he was.  If only she could have gotten him kicked out… but, no, he and Present Mic were both sitting in on the interview.  

“Principal Nezu told me, and he’s in charge.”

“You tell ‘em, Eri-chan!” said Present Mic, just a little more loudly than was comfortable.

.

Eri nodded to let Present Mic know the noise-cancelling earplugs were working.  

.

“In this situation,” said Abe, sternly, “I am in charge.”

The girl tilted her head, and suddenly her expression went from ‘pouting child’ to ‘superior being contemplating an uppity insect.’

“Eri-san,” began Abe.  

“No,” said Eri.  

Abe looked up incredulously.  What was wrong with -san?

She decided to ignore it.  “You spoke with—”

Eri began to scream like a teakettle whistling.  

“Can’t you control her?” Abe demanded, turning to Nezu, who chittered.  

“This is very good progress!” he said, barely loud enough to hear over the ongoing shriek.  “Before now, Eri-chan was too hesitant to act out or misbehave in any way, fearing the punishment that her former and completely unqualified caretakers would inflict upon her.”

Abe didn’t know which was more longwinded, the still-screaming child or the rodent principal.  Her body was so tiny, how was she still screaming?

.

Eri clicked off the Present Mic-themed combo audio recorder and player in her pocket at the same time she shut her mouth.  Principal Nezu was right!  This was fun!  At least, it would be if Deku was here.  

“I get to pick what you call me,” said Eri, patiently.  Since this person wasn’t smart enough to see that Deku was only the best hero ever and not a bad guy, she’d have to explain slowly.  

The person evidently wasn’t even smart enough to breathe, as she was slowly turning purple.  

“What,” she said, in stilted tones, “would you like me to call you.”

Eri let the smile Aizawa had taught her spread across her face.  “Eri-sama.”

“Is that a joke?”

“It’s very important to respect the boundaries children establish, Abe-san,” said Nezu.  

.

Katsuki blinked.  It was about time he woke up.  Stupid dream time dilation or whatever.  Stupid boring soy sauce face and his stupid boring mindscape dreamscape whatever hellscape.  There was a limit to what you could do in a square mile that mostly consisted of a tape-covered jungle gym and a boring apartment building.  Katsuki had found it, and, after spending a good period of time being angry about it, had decided to go to sleep.  

Dream time dilation or whatever the commission proctor had been going on about after the first billionty-and-one stupid hours, it didn’t matter, Katsuki hated it, it was just taking too damn long.  If he didn’t have to do this to keep his provisional license, he’d tell the commission to shove this stupid pointless training up it’s—

About a minute after he should have twigged to something wrong, Katsuki realized the ceiling was too familiar.  

He sat up.  Why the hell was he in UA’s infirmary?  

And not just him, about half the class was here with him.  

He scowled.  So, something had gone wrong with the test after all, and it looked like Deku wasn’t involved.  Stupid nerd would hold it over him.  

“Hey!” shouted Katsuki, spotting Recovery Girl.  “What the f—”

“Language!” scolded Recovery Girl, shrilly, practically teleporting across the room to jab Katsuki with her cane.  “You’re in a school, young man.”

“I know that!” protested Katsuki.  “But why the f—” he faltered under the force Recovery Girl’s gaze even as she started to run through the checklist she usually did for people who’d been knocked out like wimps.  “Fudge.  Am I here.”

“I think the more pertinent question is, how are you awake?  There should be at least one more hour, if not two, left to that quirk.”

“I went to sleep,” said Katsuki, attempting to fend her off.  

“Well, you wouldn’t be waking up if—”

“No.  In the shhhtupid dreamscape thing.  I went to sleep.”

Recovery Girl paused for a moment, then sighed.  “I don’t suppose you were the one whose mind they were exploring?”

“No.  That was soy sauce face.  Why are we back here?  And where’s the nerd?”

Recovery Girl seemed to droop at his question, and a heaviness filled the air.  “That’s a long story.”

“Did we get attacked by Dusty McGee again?”

“No.”

“So, what did happen?” snapped Katsuki.  “The nerd break out a new quirk in the middle of the training or something?”

Recovery Girl’s eye twitched, and she sat down on a nearby stool, taking a deep breath.

“The hero commission suspected Midoriya of working with the League of Villains and attempted to use the training to interrogate him.  Under the influence of at least one mental quirk, Midoriya fled.  At about the same time, All Might left and met up with him, after which the commission accused Midoriya of kidnapping All Might.  They haven’t given him an S-Rank villain classification, but I suspect that’s just because the paperwork hasn’t gone through yet.”

All right.  Honestly, with his creepy stalker notebooks and obsessive All Might shrine room, Deku probably seemed like a prime kidnapping suspect to an outsider, but considering that Katsuki had witnessed Deku and All Might’s sickeningly sweet interpersonal interactions, somehow managing to be a goddamn third wheel to some sort of surrogate parent-child found family drama nonsense…

“Has anyone told ‘em it’s more likely the other way around?  And that if it was, it’d probably be for the nerd’s own good, too?”

Recovery Girl nodded tiredly.  

“They hiding out here?”

“Midoriya is a wanted criminal.”

“So what?”

“We’re a school.”

“You’ve lost me.”

Recovery Girl sighed.  “No, Midoriya is not here.”

“Well, that’s stupid.  What are we doing about it?”

“Right now?  You are doing nothing.  Commission investigators are in the building, and it would be better if they thought you were still unconscious.”

Katsuki grumbled.  “Should go and try to bring him back.”

“What, so he can be arrested?” 

“No!” said Katsuki, defensively.  “But he’s probably running around out there making everything worse!”

“Bakugo,” said Recovery Girl, patting his leg, “from what I’ve heard, the only thing that could possibly make this worse is being found.”

.

“Can you describe to me the circumstances under which you lost your quirk?” asked Ito, the other commission investigator.  

“Sure!” said Mirio, hoping the man couldn’t detect his discomfort at the subject.  Even if he’d made that split second choice to shield Eri with his body with full knowledge of the consequences, to jump in front of Nemoto’s bullet, it was still a traumatic experience.  It still hurt, even if he didn’t regret it.  

He took a deep breath.  “Well, it was during the Shie Hassaikai raid.  I had gone ahead to confront Chisaki Kai and rescue Eri.  There were a few other yakuza with him, members of the Eight Bullets.  Nemoto Shin, Sakaki Deidoro, and, ah, Chrono, I think.  I can’t remember his proper name.”

“That’s fine.  Please continue.”

“I engaged with Sakaki and Nemoto while Chisaki and Chrono went ahead.  I was affected by their quirks, but managed to get by…  It was a hard battle!” he interjected, suddenly.  He belatedly realized he wanted to draw out this line of questioning, and dove into a supremely detailed description of his fight with Sakaki and Nemoto.  It was funny, too, and he saw Ito getting sucked in.  

Sir would have been proud.  

“And then, I chased after Chrono and Chisaki!” said Mirio, gesticulating wildly to illustrate his movements.  He continued narrating the battle, the wild swings of fate, Eri’s hope and fear, the strikes and counterstrikes!  Just like when he’d first debriefed after the raid.  

Weirdly enough, going through it like this also made him feel better.  Less like he was reliving a terrible, painful moment in his life, and more like he was telling a very dramatic story.  

“—aaaaaaand,” he wrapped up, “Chisaki tossed the gun with the erasure bullets to Nemoto – I hadn’t realized he was still conscious.  I’d been too worried about getting to Eri.”  He shrugged.  “I got shot.”

“Despite your quirk?”

“I didn’t want Eri to be hit.”

“Even though the loss of her quirk might have been a blessing for her?  Considering the difficulty she has using it and the pain it gives her.”

Mirio felt his smile settle into something blander and more dangerous than his usual beaming grins.  “Are you suggesting that I should have let a six-year-old be shot?”

“Not at all,” said Ito, making a mark.  “Now, where was Midoriya at this time?”

“He hadn’t caught up to us, yet,” said Mirio.  “He was with Sir.”

“Who?”

“Sir Nighteye,” clarified Mirio.  “Before that, they were with Rock Lock and some of the others, I believe.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

“I wasn’t there, so… no, not really.  But the exact situation should be on file, from our debrief, and Rock Lock can confirm or clarify.”

“Only the parts he saw,” said Ito.  “Did you try to use your quirk after that?  Or did you simply assume it was gone?”

“Of course, I tried to use it!” said Mirio, feeling somewhat offended.  “I’d trained it to be reflexive.  Right after, I kept thinking my quirk would protect me, and moving too slow to dodge attacks.  I got really beaten up.”

“And was this before or after Midoriya Izuku arrived?”

“Before, mostly,” said Mirio.  “It isn’t like the fight stopped the minute he showed up.”

“And you are certain your quirk stopped working before Midoriya arrived.”

“I’m sure.”

“How did you know you were hit by a permanent quirk-erasing bullet?” asked Ito.  

“Well, when my quirk didn’t come back we were pretty sure,” said Mirio.  

“But you didn’t know beforehand, for certain, that the bullets were permanent.”

Crap.  Mirio had screwed up somewhere in there.  He could feel it.  

“I think Nemoto and Chisaki were shouting at each other about it during the fight,” said Mirio.  “They were pretty proud of it.”

“But you did not know, for sure, that your quirk loss was permanent,” insisted Ito.  “There was no way for you to know that their claims about the bullets were true.”

“I mean… not really,” said Mirio.  “But, again, here I am without a quirk.”

“Yes… but that isn’t the only way a person can lose a quirk, is it?”

“The Scourge of Kamino was already in Tartarus when the Shie Hassaikai raid took place,” said Mirio.  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Did Midoriya Izuku come into contact with you before the end of the day?”

“We talked, yeah,” said Mirio.

“Physical contact.”

“Actually… no,” said Mirio.  “After the fight, we were both whisked off to the hospital, separately.  Midoriya came to visit me after we both got patched up, he felt guilty about not getting to me and Eri sooner, and--” Oh, dear, he’d have to think back on that conversation a bit more.  Later.  He swallowed.  “--and… Sir’s death…”  He looked down at his hands.  “Sir… in retrospect, he didn’t like Midoriya very much, but his death hit Midoriya hard.  First death in the line of duty.  It… it was the first time I’d seen a hero die, too.”

“You’re quite certain he didn’t touch you?  At all?” asked Ito, undeterred by Mirio’s not-at-all-feigned grief.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” said Mirio, now annoyed by the investigator’s callousness.  

“I see.”

.

Ochako rubbed her eyes, but the darkness stayed.  “What,” she said out loud, her voice somehow doing the opposite of echoing, “what happened?”

“I don’t know,” said Todoroki.  He had positioned himself so as to guard her back.  

“There was a bang,” said Iida, “and then…”  He trailed off, clearly finding just as much difficulty in describing the event as Ochako did thinking about it.  

“They were talking about All for One getting in,” said Ochako.  “You don’t think…?”

“Maybe we timed out the quirk and we’re about to wake up,” said Iida, optimistically.  

“Where’s Aizawa-sensei?” asked Todoroki.  

“I don’t know,” said Ochako.  “He was standing with us… I mean, I couldn’t see you guys at first, either.”

“I’m here,” said Aizawa.

Ochako turned to see their teacher methodically scanning their black surroundings, his eyes red.  “Do you know what happened?” she asked.  “Do you think this is just, I don’t know, a new transition?  A memory?”

“I don’t know,” said Aizawa.  He blinked, eyes returning to their normal colors.  

“It isn’t,” said an unfamiliar voice.  The figure of a young man with uncut white hair slowly faded out of the darkness.  “Hello.”  He raised a hand.  “I’m One.  Or, I guess, you can call me Kazuki.  Sorry about the landscape.  Most of our mental resources were just rerouted.”

“Does this have something to do with that vault thing Izuku mentioned?” asked Ochako.  

“Yes, sadly,” said One.  “My brother’s broken out.  Which means you really shouldn’t be here.  All our minds are about to become battlefields.  I have some techniques that might help you get out, but--”

“Six told me there was something taken from Midoriya that we could get back, if the vault was open.  Is that still a thing?”

One raised a fist to his lips, and pressed down.  “You understand, don’t you, that to search for this is to go into my brother’s mind?”

“If it’s to help Midoriya,” said Todoroki, stepping forward, “we’ll do anything.”

“That is very admirable of you,” said One.  “I do mean that, I really do, and I’ve seen your heroics and spirit through Izuku’s eyes.  But I’m not sending children to fight my brother.  Eraserhead, you’d be going alone.”

“I can work with that,” said Aizawa.  

“But we won’t be in any real danger!” protested Ochako.  “The worst that could happen to us is that we’ll run out of time and wake up.  Right?”

“Don’t underestimate my brother.  Judging from the fight at Kamino, he lost a lot of quirk control and strength after his first fight with Eight, or else he’d never have been captured.  But that’s only if we take it at face value.  I don’t doubt that he has five or six plans in place to escape Tartarus and steal every interesting quirk in there, thereby increasing his power exponentially, or even healing himself.”

Ochako blinked.  How would anyone heal from…  Wait.  “Overhaul.”

One’s smile was a bitter thing.  “I certainly wouldn’t have put the two of them in the same prison.”

The villain at Kamino, already strong enough to go toe to toe with All Might, with Overhaul's power?  Ochako shuddered.

"What did he take from Midoriya?" asked Aizawa.  "I'm going to need to know before I do this."

"You're sure you want to do this, then?"

"I haven't decided."

One sighed and pushed his hair back, out of his face.  Ochako was struck, momentarily, by how the color of his eyes perfectly matched Izuku's.  

"My brother took what he always takes," said One.  "His quirk."

"But!" protested Ochako.  "He has a quirk!  He has..." she trailed off as another revelation hit her.

"He…" said Iida, next to her, "has several quirks."

"He has your quirk," said Todoroki with one-hundred-percent unwavering confidence.  

"You had a quirk like All for One," said Aizawa.  "But considering what we've seen… the quirk to pass on quirks?"

"That's why you call yourselves by numbers!  Because that's the order you had the quirk in!" added Ochako.

"I prefer thinking of it as the ability to share quirks," said One, "but since everyone but Eight and Nine is dead, the distinction is academic."

Aizawa sighed and ran a hand over his face.  "Okay, let me get this straight.  You and... your brother both had meta quirks.  He could… give and take quirks.  You could just pass your own quirk on.  He decided to become a criminal mastermind.  You decided to, I don't know, invest your quirk until someone had enough quirks to fight your brother?"

"And they're all related," said Todoroki.

"And you're all related," said Aizawa with an air of suffering.  

"It was significantly less intentional and more complicated than that, but, yes, those are the basics."

"And, for some reason, All Might thought that it was a good idea to pick a teenager for the job."

"In his defense, Eight thought my brother was dead.  The one you should really be throwing shade at is Seven."  

"I have questions."

One tilted his head.  "Normally, I would answer them, but we're running out of time."

Aizawa sighed.  "Alright.  I'll do it."

"We want to help, too!" said Ochako.  

"Three will find a way to ghost murder me if I get you involved in a fight with my brother."

"So would I, incidentally," said Aizawa, "and then I'd expel all of them."

Iida cleared his throat.  "Is there any way for us to help without coming into contact with All for One?”

“Yes,” said One, clapping his hands together.  “Getting out before that Suzuki fellow does and giving Izuku some good publicity.”  

One’s image seemed to waver and split, then, as if Ochako had crossed her eyes.  She blinked, hard, but after that there were still two of them.  

“I’ll lead you to my brother’s mind,” said one of the Ones, waving at Aizawa.

“I’ll stay and try to help the rest of you get out,” said the second One.  “We should - Oh.”

“Oh?” repeated Aizawa.  “‘Oh,’ what?”

“Oh, we forgot about someone,” said One. 

.

“Oh,” said All for One, catching sight of an anomaly.  “Who is this little intruder to our gathering?”

“Just some government lackey,” said Miranda, hands still for now, but in a position where she could likely summon ball lightning in a matter of minutes.  “Not someone you can use as a hostage.”

“Actually,” said Ryuji, who, unusually, had yet to disappear from All for One’s senses, “if you could figure out a way to get rid of him, it would be convenient.”

“Two!” snapped Nana.

“Come on, we were all thinking it,” said Ryuji.  

“You can’t use a him as a murder weapon,” hissed Nana.  “Nine will get in trouble.”

“You’re the one who repeatedly dropped him from a dozen stories up.  And the one who was fantasizing about murdering him in real life.”

“That daydream could have belonged to anyone.”

“It had Gran Torino in it.”

“Eight knows Gran, too!”

All for One coughed, returning the full attention of the vestiges to himself.  “Is this a pathetic attempt at a distraction?”

“Do you know any other adjectives?” asked his little brother, who was slouching off to the side with his hands in his pockets.  

All for One sneered.  “Are you not taking this seriously?”

“Not really, no,” said Kazuki, “and neither are you, or else we’d be fighting already.  We both know that what you can affect here is limited.”  He started counting off on his fingers.  “You can’t bring us back with you, you can’t affect Nine’s morality, you can’t take the stockpile, you--”

“I knew it!” shrieked the little intruder, jabbing a finger at All for One.  “I knew it!  You’re All for One!  Midoriya is working for you!”

“Hey, if you’re going to do the sibling thing and prove me wrong about the whole ‘can’t do anything’ thing, can I suggest you start with him?”

All for One narrowed his eyes and scanned his relatives.  There was an uncharacteristic lack of protest.  

“Are you briar patching?”

“No,” said Hibiki, “they’re quite serious.  I personally would prefer it if you didn’t kill him, but not enough to risk myself.”

He could always trust Hibiki to be blunt and straightforward.  He got it from his wonderfully forthright and businesslike mother.  He hadn’t loved her like he loved his current, still-living spouse, but she had been refreshing.  

“Mood,” said Rokuya.  

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” said dear, sweet Izuku, raising a hand, “but I’m not actually comfortable letting All for One kill him in front of us.”

“Don’t try that now!  You’ve shown your true colors, traitor!”

“Don’t worry, kid,” said Daigoro, “we’re pretty sure he won’t be able to.”

“Torture, then.”

“Not sure he can do worse than Nana did.”

“All I did was drop him!” protested Nana.  

“Repeatedly, from a great height,” Miranda reminded her.  

Everyone was much more relaxed, now, and… were they ignoring him?  They were!

“Are you all under the effect of a quirk?”

“Yeah,” said Kazuki.  “How else do you think this is happening?”

“No, I mean… your personalities… they’re all…”  He gestured at the One for All users who had stopped to watch him.  

“Niichan, I’ve tried to tell you this before, but at least for me, I’m not all that great a person.  You just suck so enormously that I look like a saint in comparison.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is,” said Kazuki.  “I mean, think back to our first argument.  I was less concerned with your overall morality and more concerned with the fact that the demon king alway loses--”

“Excuse you, but I’ve beaten every one of you.”

“No you haven’t,” said Hibiki.  “I, at least, died with no input from you.”

“Killing you is obviously different from beating you,” said All for One.  

“I mean, by the time you chucked me in that vault, it had evolved to a moral and ethical complaint,” said Kazuki, his one visible eye unfocused in remembrance.  “But it started out with me worried about you getting yourself killed.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It really did.  You know, I don’t think I ever told you this, but if you’d been twenty percent more ethical?  I would have absolutely been on your side.”

“What.”

“I mean, it was you, the government, and ragtag resistance groups, and the government sucked.”

“I can confirm that,” said Miranda, “and it continues to be disgustingly corrupt.  But since you’re also swimming through the human experimentation cesspit, we’re staying where we are.  Don’t get any ideas.”  She ended the sentence with a hiss and fog started rolling in.  

“I agree that if you stayed away from the kidnapping, murder, and cult stuff, I would have probably stayed with you,” said Ryuji.  “Except you did do all that stuff… Why are we even talking about this?”

“I would add personal freedom to the list of things I’d want from you in the hypothetical world where we stayed on the same side,” said Hibiki, “but, otherwise, I agree.”

All for One blinked several times, a small part of his mind cherishing the fact that he had eyes.  “Do you all feel that way?” he asked, oddly touched but also strangely disturbed.  

“No,” said Daigoro, “the rest of us hate you and the government just about equally.”

All for One turned his gaze to the quivering ‘government lackey.’  “I see.  So, I suppose I have the government to thank for this turn of events.  Hm?  What did you do to have these soft-hearted fools so upset with you?”

The little man squeaked and jabbed something like an epi-pen into his leg.  A second later, he vanished.  

“Wait,” said Izuku.  “Wait.  THAT’S how to get out?  That’s so stupid!  Can we do that?”  The last was said as an aside to Nana.  

“Not with him here,” said Miranda.  Her voice had dropped back into its more dangerous registers.  

“Oh, so we are going to fight after all,” said All for One, clapping his hands and smiling.  “What fun.”

.

“I can’t believe you distracted him and got Suzuki to leave like that,” said Aizawa as they stepped out of the fog.

“Well, my brother always did like to hear the sound of his own voice.  And be a jerk, but I’m sure that was obvious,” said One.  They came to a stop in front of a normal-looking apartment building.  One sighed.  “This is where we lived,” he said.  “Before…”  He sighed again.  

Aizawa examined One out of the corner of his eyes.  He looked tired.  

“How much of what you said back there was true?”

“Huh?  Most of it, really.  My successors built me up as some kind of big good, but I was never anything but a normal guy with a slightly more functional moral compass than my brother.”

From what Aizawa had seen so far, he suspected One was seriously underselling himself.  

“I’m sorry,” said One, “but I’m going to have to leave you here.  Nine’s quirk should look like a younger version of himself.  He couldn’t have been any older than five when it was taken.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Sorry, not really…  I’ve not exactly been inside my brother’s head.  If you manage to find a switch labeled ‘empathy,’ you might take a second to flip it on.  Or not.  Could be booby trapped.  Wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Great,” said Aizawa.  

.

“Midoriya-san,” said Mr. Compress.  “We’ve been searching for quite some time now, I hate to say it, but I rather suspect that your son has thoroughly escaped.”

“Escaped,” repeated Midoriya.  “Like a prisoner.”

Mr. Compress coughed into his fist.  Tomura glared at him through a fog of exhaustion.  He was wearing a mask.  Why bother with the fist at all?  Sometimes, Tomura felt like the only sane person on a planet of aliens.  

“Honestly, we didn’t even know he was in the area, Midoriya-san.  But… Perhaps at this point, the best course of action would be to return to our, uh… temporary base so that you can get some clothes.  I’m sure Dabi will have something that can fit you.”

“Or maybe,” said Toga, hesitantly, “Magne might have had something?”

“Excellent idea, Himiko!  Yes, I’m sure Magne’s clothes will be much more appropriate.”

“I don’t know that dressing her in a dead woman’s clothes is a good idea?” whispered Twice.  

“Normally,” said Midoriya Inko, “I would say that the fires of my anger at Hisashi provide me with enough warmth to scorch the ground I walk on but—” she shivered, “—unfortunately you may be right.  I’m not a young woman anymore, and Izuku would want me to be safe and healthy.  So that I can give Hisashi a… firm talking to.”

Tomura shuddered.  The ice in her tone was more frigid than the toilet seat in their stupid unheated bathroom at night.  

… He hoped Sensei didn’t get a mind reading quirk in the near future.  He definitely didn’t want him to know about that metaphor.  

“Machia, will you be a dear and take us back?  And Mr. Compress, would you put Dr. Garaki back in one of your marbles?  I suspect he’ll be… more comfortable that way.”

At least Tomura wasn’t the doctor.  

Machia leaned down and let them all get on, though not before fixing Tomura with a glare and delivering some glitchy threat about the ‘Little Lord’ and ‘playing nice.’  Completely redundant, what with Midoriya Inko’s much more pertinent and detailed threat regarding the same thing.  

“Hey,” said Twice.  “Do you guys smell--?  It’s like a barbecue!”

Himiko sniffed the air.  “It does smell kinda smokey, guys.  Do you think Dabi got in a fight, too?”

“With who?” asked Tomura.  

“Well, Izu-chan has to still be around here somewhere, right?” asked Himiko, putting a finger to her lips.

Machia sped up.

“It’s probably just the wind blowing someone’s bonfire smoke this way,” said Spinner.  

Machia slowed down again.  

Tomura frowned.  “There shouldn’t be anyone close enough for that,” he said.  If Dabi had set the forest on fire and given away their position, he was going to murder him.  

Machia sped up again.  

They came into sight of their current base and the source of the smoke.  

These happened to be the same thing.  

“I’m going to kill Dabi,” said Tomura.  

“Are we sure it was him?” asked Twice.  

“I don’t care.”

Chapter Text

"But Suzuki-san was knocked out a bunch before this," said Ochako.

"I know," said One, still holding out the little packs of pills, "but apparently going to sleep is different from being knocked out."

"I think being drugged is a lot different from going to sleep, too," said Todoroki, taking one of the pill packs.  

"I literally did not make the rules of this quirk."  He turned his head to the side and started muttering about how Saito's quirk could have been used for good.

"How closely are you related to Midoriya, anyway?" asked Todoroki.

One startled.  "Oh, uh, heh.  You know.  Enough for him to use the quirk?"

Wow.  That was a suspicious answer.

"Are you Midoriya's father?" asked Todoroki.  

"Todoroki, what-- " started Iida.

"I have been dead for over a hundred years."

"That's not a no."

" Anyway," said Ochako, taking a sleeping pill from One but not opening it.  "Are you sure, completely sure, you don't want our help?  I mean, thinking about it, if you can get Izuku's quirk back from him like this, can’t he take your quirks, too?"

"Probably," agreed One, casually.  "That's part of the reason we want you away from him."  He mixed taking a pill.  "We're also trying to make him think he can't.  Or at least think that we think he can't.  He's never had a very high opinion of our intelligence.  And if he thinks that we think he can't, he'll never think that we're doing it."

Todoroki nodded along to this sagely.

"There’s also the possibility that he won't be able to - there are significant differences between my quirk and his.  He can't do a passive DNA read, for example.  That and the remnants of Izuku's quirk are the main reasons we think this will work, after all."

The world trembled slightly, then shook, as if an earthquake had just happened.

"He could take our mental selves, though," continued One.  "Whether or not he'd keep them once this quirk wears off is something I'd rather not know… Although it'd be interesting to see if he could take the DNA aspect of a quirk that doesn't have a corresponding mental component present, since that's what actually trips him up when he tries to take One for All - he can't take the mental aspect, so his quirk aborts the sequence."

The ground shook again, harder.  

"But that's honestly academic.  You see, being dead can get boring, so we've spent a lot of time running war games and fighting each other."  

This time, the shaking knocked all of them but One to their knees.  

"Please take the pills?  Now?  We're really going to be fine."

A rocket screamed in the distance, followed by an explosion.  

"This doesn't have opiates in it, does it?" asked Iida.  

"Nothing here is real, so, no."

.

Ochako startled awake and immediately clutched at her head.  That was one heck of a headache.  Driven by the need to see where she was, she peeled open her eyes.  

This was… the infirmary at UA?

How'd she get here?

"Oi!  Granny!  Cheeks is awake!"

That was Bakugo.  There was something she wanted to do regarding Bakugo.  What was it again?

"Don’t shout!  This is a place of quiet and healing."

"I wanna know what fffffffffrick happened to shhhhtupid Deku."

Oh.  She remembered now.  

"As do we all, but you shouldn't crowd someone coming out of a mental quirk like that, it could be--"

No time like the present, decided Ochako.  

She snapped into a sitting position, and punched Bakugo in the face.  

"Ow!  Mother--!"

Recovery Girl sighed.  "Dangerous.  Uraraka, how are you feeling?"

.

"I'm telling you," said Suzuki, propped up in the hospital bed, "there's a whole cabal of them, telepathically linked to each other and to All for One."  He swatted away the nurse's hand.  "Some of them are old heroes, too.  They must have gone over to him for longevity quirks or something.  They were- they were joking with each other about how to kill me.  That's why I had to bail out."

"I believe you," said the commission president solemnly.  “We have come across some evidence of our own that puts yours into a much more… credible light than it would be otherwise.  Could you identify them, the other members of this ‘cabal?’”

“Some of them,” said Suzuki, doubtfully.  “But others I didn’t recognize, or see for very long.”  He shuddered.  “Some of them… Some of them I would very much like to be mistaken about, sir.”

“The ones you are sure of?” prompted the president.

“Skyrunner,” said Suzuki, looking pale.  “We should investigate her associates, as well,” he added, as if the president was unfit for his job.  “There was another…  I only know him from pictures, but I’m sure it was Fidelity.”

The president let neither his annoyance at Suzuki nor the familiarity of the two names distract him.  “And how did Aizawa Shouta interact with them?”

Suzuki sniffled.  “He sided with them.  They all tried to put up a show when I was watching, but they never attacked him like they attacked me.  That woman… she kept dropping me…”  He knotted his fingers in his hair. 

“What about All Might?”

“I’m… not sure.  There was an image of him there, but he didn’t speak, not like the others.  I couldn’t… couldn’t say if he was involved like they were.”

Not the conclusive report he’d been hoping for, then, but it confirmed that Midoriya Izuku was indeed in league with All for One.

… and also that he was providing All for One with at least one link with the outside world.  

If Skyrunner and the others truly were alive, that meant that he had even more.  

If.  If they were alive.  Even for a man of All for One’s talents, he had doubts about his ability to locate so many longevity quirks.  The nomu with their duplicated quirks seemed to be a recent development.  Then, too, there was the matter of Midoriya’s blood sample.  Skyrunner and Fidelity were both on the list of people whose DNA had been mingled with his.  

“There was also…” said Suzuki.  He swallowed.  “There was also… Tempest.  She looked just like the old posters.”

Another name from the lists.  The president closed his eyes briefly and pulled out his phone, going to the pictures he had saved of the hero Lariat and the vigilante Forewarning.  Lariat’s photo was obviously better, having been an official picture for the purposes of identification.  Forewarning’s was blurry and at an awkward angle, but given what he’d been - and who he served - it was only to be expected.  

He showed the phone to Suzuki.  

“These two?”

Suzuki stared.  “Yes,” he said.  “How did you know?”

“As I said,” replied the president, “we’ve gathered some of our own evidence while you’ve been asleep.”  He put his phone away.  “I expect a more thorough, formal report of what you discovered in Midoriya’s mind by the end of the day.”

“Of course, sir,” said Suzuki.  

The president nodded, and with no more farewell than that, left.  

As soon as he was alone, his phone was in his hand again.  “I need an emergency exhumation order for the heroes Lariat, Fidelity, and Skyrunner.”

.

Aizawa stepped into the lobby of the apartment building.  It seemed normal enough, even if the finishings were incredibly old-fashioned and its emptiness gave it a disturbing quality.  The overhead lights buzzed.  The wallpaper peeled.  The air smelled faintly of ammonia.  The paint on the receptionist’s desk had flaked off in places.  There was gum matted in the carpet.  

It was a normal apartment building.  Not a nice one.  

Aizawa walked cautiously to the desk, and peered at the mailboxes behind it.  He picked out the name ‘Shigaraki’ in the third row, and made note of the apartment number.  

The elevator, predictably, was out of order, not that it particularly mattered to Aizawa.  He wouldn’t have trusted it to bring him to his destination, regardless.  He barely trusted the stairs for that, after how many times this dream world had changed under his feet.  

He reached the third floor without incident, and found the Shigaraki apartment.  The door was locked, but Aizawa always carried a set of lockpicks with him, something that was as true here as in the real world.  He made short work of it.  

The apartment was… normal.  Chaotic.  Not very clean.  Several sets of shoes, various sizes, littered the entryway.  Medical bills and homework covered the kitchen table, more than a few letters on the floor.  Bowls were stacked next to the sink.  One of the rooms didn’t have a door, but a curtain.  There were scorch marks on the walls.  

Aizawa took a deep breath, and stepped into the apartment.  

At first, nothing changed.  Then, the light streaming past the curtains dimmed, natural light becoming weak, flickering sodium-yellow, and the dusty silence of an abandoned place was replaced with something that was almost like city nightlife.  

Almost.  There was something badly off about it.  More than something…  Too much anger.  Not a single happy voice.  Too many crashes and bangs.  But… also not enough.  Not enough for a riot or a protest.  No motors, either.  No cars.  

He made his way to the window and looked out.  There were people there.  Crowds, even.  People raging.  People despairing.  There were people tearing at the buildings, attacking their surroundings and one another, but many simply laid on the ground.  Others… others seemed to be hunting.  Looking for something, armed with makeshift weaponry.  

Red lightning split the sky above them.  Someone wailed, and the hunting party changed direction, going to where the lightning had struck.  

Aizawa had seen the footage from Kamino, the way lightning had sparked, jagged, around the villain’s arms.  He didn’t know what that lightning meant here , but he didn’t intend to get close enough to find out.  

But he did have to go out, to find Midoriya’s quirk, or the representation of it.  Wherever it was, it wasn’t in this apartment.  

Probably.  

Just to be sure, he threw open the doors and cabinets, searching and not finding.  However, the apartment really was as empty of people as it seemed.  Part of Aizawa itched to investigate this place more, this place where All for One was allegedly raised.

He left the apartment, making his way quickly down the stairs.  In the real world, he would have most likely left through the window, jumping down to quell the near-riot happening below, to pull aside some of the younger people he had seen.  But none of the people below were real , and he needed to lay low, stay inconspicuous.  

Walking through Midoriya’s and the others’ minds, he and his students had always been noticed immediately.  The ‘vestiges’ were distracting All for One, but Aizawa didn’t want to push his luck.  

He walked out into the dim street, keeping close to the walls of buildings for whatever little cover they provided.  The air tasted… oddly sterile.

The ‘people’ here were most likely stolen quirks, not memories.  Would Midoriya’s be out in this?  Or hidden away?  How big was All for One’s mental landscape?  The man was more than a century old.  

If the quirk acted like the child it had belonged to… most likely it would go somewhere familiar.  Midoriya’s apartment, maybe?  Had he lived there, back then?  

It was, unfortunately, his only lead.

(He did not think highly of his chances at success.)

“ Eraserhead?”

The call was hissed, hushed and disbelieving.  Aizawa half-turned, thinning his profile to provide a smaller target, his hands on his capture weapon.  

Then he hesitated.  

“ Ragdoll ?”

She blinked rapidly at him, eyes tearing up.  “He got you, too, Eraser?”

Aizawa took in the brightly-colored hero costume and the ever so slightly off way she held herself.  “You… aren’t really Shiretoko Tomoko, are you?”  He knew that, or should have known that, but it was very different to see someone he knew… the quirk of someone he knew… here.

She crossed her arms and pursed her lips, face still twisted in upset and grief.  “Just like you aren’t really…”  Her eyes widened, and she pushed him into a nearby alleyway.  He let her, barely resisting the urge to throw her off and double-guessing that decision.  “You are the real Eraserhead,” she whispered, urgently.  “The real Aizawa Shouta.”

To trust or not to trust…  She’d know more than Aizawa about this place and where Midoriya’s quirk might be, but she was also compromised simply by the situation she was in and what she was.  He didn’t know how much control All for One had over her, nor how similar she was to the real Ragdoll.

“Why are you here?  How are you here?”  Her words carried an edge of desperation.  “You can’t be here.  This is hell. ”

“It’s a quirk.  I’m looking for someone,” said Aizawa, making a snap decision.  “A child.”

“One of your students?”

“Younger,” said Aizawa.  “About five.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down as much as I’d like,” admitted not-Ragdoll.  

“A boy,” said Aizawa.  “Curly green hair.  Probably small for his age.”

She blinked again, eyelashes fluttering.  “Green hair?  Like Midoriya?”

“You remember him?”

“It would be hard to forget the student Kota punched in the…'' she trailed off with a grimace.  “Is he alright?  Kota?”

“He’s fine.  And… you’re fine, as well.  Alive, I mean.”

“That’s not really…”  She chewed her lower lip.  “Call me Search.  Midoriya, is he…?”

“He’s… The situation is complicated.”

Ragdoll-- Search nodded.  “I haven’t seen anyone that looks like that,” she said.  “But I’m not the only hero-- The only hero’s quirk here.”  She stepped out of the alley.  “Let me show you.”

This felt like a trap.  

He didn’t have any better leads.  

He followed.  

.

Kazuki had never been strong.  As a child, he’d been sickly, and he’d grown into a sickly adult.  Allergies and autoimmune disorders had plagued him growing up, as well as common viruses made near-fatal by his adverse reactions to vaccines and already-compromised immune system.  Then, as a teen, he’d been diagnosed with a cellular degeneration disorder that had sprung up at about the same time as meta abilities.  A disorder that, if Nine was any indicator, had never been cured.  

Then his brother had given him the stockpile.  And that had…

Well.  It had hurt, at first.  It had left him sicker than ever, confused and possibly a little delirious as his own power sheered away the ghost of a half-brother he’d never met into near-nothingness, as instincts and senses he’d only been peripherally aware of opened up, angry and inflamed by the violation.  

(He wondered, now, if One for All might have manifested very differently if the stockpile hadn’t been forced on him.  If the reason Izuku was drawing out the quirks of his predecessors wasn’t because of the mechanical remnants of his original quirk, but because One for All itself had finally settled into equilibrium with the stockpile.)

But.  He’d had the stockpile.  He’d had that well of power, shallow as it had been back then. at the beginning.  

Kazuki still wasn’t strong.  Never, in his entire life, from birth to death, had he been strong.

But it was a fact that, for as long as the strong and the weak had existed among men, so had equalizing devices.  

Kazuki could lean on a cane.  He could also beat someone to death with one.  At least, when he’d been alive.  

He’d done some staffwork, too, when he’d been alive.  The weapon wasn’t as inconspicuous in the modern world as it had been in the past, but it had reach and versatility.  Also, many cleaning implements, garden tools, and lengths of pipe could be used as a staff in a pinch.  

But his favorite weapon was the sword.  

(Kazuki had excelled above his older brother in only four areas:  morality, med school, finishing books, and kendo. )

Force multipliers, one friend in the underground had called Kazuki’s weapons.  Specialized levers.  

Someone, a westerner, Kazuki thought, had once said that you could move the world with a long enough lever.  Kazuki couldn’t claim to have done that, he couldn’t even move his brother, but weapons had made his use of One for All much more efficient.  

Much more deadly, in some cases.  

Unfortunately, his blade failed to cleave off his brother’s insufferably smug face, steel skittering off his brother’s quirk-enhanced hand.  Kazuki dove past him, tumbled, making sure to keep the cutting edge of his sword pointed away from himself, and rolled smoothly to his feet, the phantom buzz of One for All under his skin making him much more coordinated than he otherwise would have been.  

Daigoro and Rokuya had already engaged his brother.  Ryuji was circling, unnoticeable, waiting for an opening.  Miranda had summoned a dense fog that crackled with lightning (incidentally not something she’d commonly been able to do in life - for most of her feats, the prevailing weather conditions had to be just right first).  Nana was minding the environment, for the moment, making sure it suited them and hindered their opponent.  Although, she’d attempted a few several-story axe-kicks, when she saw the opportunity.  

As for their youngest two members…

“I hadn’t expected you to let Midoriya Izuku fight,” said All for One, as if everyone involved wasn’t completely, brutally aware that he was Izuku’s father, “but I really expected more action from All Might.  Are you afraid I’ll do to your mind what I did to your body ?”

“Shut up!” shouted Izuku.  “Leave him alone!  He’s driving!”

“He’s wha--?”

Rokuya and Miranda both took All for One’s distraction as an opening to hit him with electrical attacks.  Rokuya laughed wildly.  “Tase him again, senpai!”

Kazuki adjusted his grip on the police stun baton he found in his hand (he’d stolen one, once, and kept it for a week before realizing it was GPS enabled) and smiled.  A request like that from his successor?  How could he refuse?

.

Vlad’s car, ever so gently, rolled to a stop.  Toshinori cursed vigorously, though not particularly creatively, and winced.  There wasn’t anything he could do about a empty fuel tank.  Swearing at it wasn’t going to fill it up.  

Once met someone with a quirk like…

Toshinori squeezed his eyes shut and let the foreign memory roll over him.  Focus on positives.  They were much closer to the Wild Wild Pussycats’ compound, almost to the cliffside that Izuku and his classmates had been tipped off of by Pixie Bob, and…  Toshinori had to let that memory flicker and pass as well.  

He pulled first their supplies, then Izuku, from the car, wanting to keep his student in the warmth provided by the barely-functional heating system for as long as possible.  On a whim, he took the emergency supplies Vlad had stored in his car as well.  

Perhaps taking things from his fellow teacher should have twinged his conscience more than stealing from villains, but, well.  Vlad would have more loss to worry about than a small first aid kit, emergency foil blankets, and road flares.  Toshinori had originally intended to return the car, or at least leave it somewhere Vlad could find, but his plans had changed.  

The car might not be next to the cliff Izuku and his classmates had fallen from at the beginning of their summer camp experience, but it was next to a cliff.  

He made sure the wheel was turned in the right direction, got behind the car and pushed .  It took longer than he would have liked to get to the cliffside, but once he did, momentum and gravity took care of the rest.

The result was loud enough to jostle Izuku from his state of not-quite-sleep and left a fair amount of car-related debris on the side of the cliff, but the car itself was obscured quite nicely by the pine trees below.  

He walked, slowly, back to Izuku, who had struggled into a sitting position, and was now contemplating standing.  

“Don’t,” said Toshinori, softly.  “I’ll carry you.”

“But,” said Izuku, looking at him with worry.  He swallows, licking split lips.  “You’re really not in better shape than I am.”

“You’re keeping us hidden,” said Toshinori.  “I’m not.”

Izuku sagged, defeated.  “Okay,” he said, softly.  

.

“I was on my way when I found you,” said Search, leading Aizawa forward.  “He knows everywhere here, he is everywhere here, and a lot of the quirks here belonged to his followers, or to people who were his enemies but were just as bad as he was…  We have to move where we meet.”

“And who is ‘we’ in this situation?” asked Aizawa.  

There was a lull in the conversation as they pressed themselves to a wall to let a large group go by.  

“Other heroes,” said Search, quietly, once they were more or less alone again.  “Rather, their quirks.”  She looked up at him.  “We might not be them, but we refuse to let him change us, destroy more of what we are.”  Something more… natural, for lack of a better term, bled into her bearing.  

It was then that it struck Aizawa, what had been bothering him about all the ‘people’ here.  None of them moved like they were alive.  Not even the vestiges in Midoriya’s mind felt so dead.  

Aizawa was standing in a world of ghosts.   

He forced himself to nod at her, this specter wearing his colleague’s face and memories.  If what she said was true, then she was, indeed, pursuing a noble cause.  

She led him to what looked like an average, middle-class hotel, except that it was painted with bright, red graffiti accusing the owners of being ‘mutants.’  They entered through a side door, and went down into a basement filled with washing and drying machines. 

The room was also full of people.  Quirks.  All of whom became very tense upon seeing Aizawa.  

“Who’s this?” asked one of them, a thin woman still wearing a blood-splattered costume.  Aizawa vaguely recognized her face as that of a hero who’d been popular when he’d been a kid.  

“This is Eraserhead,” said Search.  “The real Eraserhead.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” said Search.  

Aizawa didn’t know how she could be, seeing as she hadn’t really asked him any questions that could confirm his identity, but he didn’t belabor the point.  

“He’s looking for someone,” she continued.  

“Forget that, how did you even get in here?” demanded someone else.  

“A quirk,” said Aizawa.

“Duh,” said a boy in an old Shiketsu uniform.  “Of course it was a quirk.  Can we have some more detail ?  We haven’t gotten any news since she came in.”  He jerked his head towards Search.  

“It was a number of quirks,” allowed Aizawa, “interacting in an unpredicted way.  The reason you haven’t gotten any…”  He looks at Search.  “ News.  Is because All for One is in Tartarus.”

He’d vaguely expected for the quirks to be reassured by this.  Instead, they frowned.  

“If you manage to get out,” said the boy, “tell them that they need to kill him.  He’s not going to stay nicely in prison.”

“He’s right,” said the woman, crossing her arms.  “It doesn’t matter what kind of restraints, drug cocktail, or quirk you’ve got.  You see the crowds out there?”  She moved to point.  “Every person in them is a quirk.  Strength quirks, fire quirks, longevity quirks, healing quirks, you name it, he’s got it.  The only reason he hasn’t sunk the country is because he wants to rule it.”  There was a murmur of agreement.  

“I’ll pass it on,” said Aizawa.  “But I do have something I’m here for.”

“What?” she snapped.  

“A kid’s quirk,” said Search, quickly.  

“Why?” asked a vigilante’s quirk, stepping forward.  Aizawa had investigated their death.  People with healing quirks rarely died like that.  “What good does it do you?”

“I know the kid in question,” said Aizawa.  “The rest is classified.”

He could make things classified if he wanted to.  

“Can you describe them?” asked the vigilante, making gentle shapes with their hands.  

“A boy,” said Aizawa.  “Green eyes, green curly hair.  Probably small.  Probably has a thing for notebooks.”  

The atmosphere in the room stilled from merely unnatural to deathly.  

“Yeah,” said the woman.  “We know who you’re talking about.”  She pursed her lips.  “This is something that’ll make it so All for One won’t be able to use him anymore, right?”

“Hopefully,” said Aizawa.  “When you say use…”

The woman waved him off.  “The kid’s fine,” she said.  “Just terrifying, is all.”

Aizawa closed his eyes.  “Of course he is.”

.

"We decided to keep him away from the other kids," said the vigilate's quirk, "because he was freaking them out."

They were in an apartment building again, this one newer.  

"We try to keep the kids away from all that in general."  The vigilante waved towards the racket outside.  "Wish we could get them free, but…"  He trailed off, fixing Aizawa with an appraising look.  "If this works with your kid, and he gets his quirk back, maybe you could try with some of the others?  I think at least some of them must still be alive out there, right?  If your kid is."

"I'll look into it," said Aizawa, "but I'm afraid this is a one time only chance."

"Figures," muttered the vigilante.  He knocked on the door.  

There was an excited gasp from the other side, and then the pitter-patter of little feet.  Then, more concerningly, several metallic clanks and clicks as bolts and locks from the other side of the door were released.  The door swung back, and a painfully tiny version of Midoriya beamed up at them.  

Chapter Text

“‘Scurity!”  The tiny Midoriya frowned.  “ Ob scurity,” he corrected, bouncing, “and…”  He looks up at Aizawa, head tilted, blinking.  “You’re different,” he observed.  

Aizawa crouched down.  “Yeah,” he said, “I guess I am.  Do you… remember where you were?  Before this?”

The little boy tilted his head to the other side.  Blinked.  Looked at Search, who had been following behind Aizawa and the vigilante.  Looked back at Aizawa.  “Which before?” he asked.  

“Your original,” clarified Obscurity. 

“Uh huh,” said the little Midoriya, swinging the door back and forth.  Beyond him, Aizawa caught glimpses of a room almost entirely full of notebooks.  

“I’ve come to take you back there,” said Aizawa.  

Midoriya’s eyes went wide.  “You can do that?”

“I’m here to try.”

“Okay, I’ve gotta get something!”  He slammed the door shut.  Aizawa heard scampering sounds from behind it.  

“What is he getting?” asked Aizawa.  

The vigilante shrugged, then made a face.  “Do you… do you know what kind of quirk he is?” they asked.

“Not really, no,” said Aizawa.  

 “Any guesses, even?”

Aizawa sighed.  “his mother is registered with a telekinetic quirk, and his father with fire breathing, so I’d guess…”  He trailed off at the increasingly pained grimace on the vigilante’s face.  “It has nothing to do with either of those, does it?”

“Not… not from what we’ve seen here.”

Aizawa waited for a moment.  “It’s illogical to leave me waiting after forcing me to guess,” he said.  

“He’s got some kind of weird copy quirk,” said the vigilante.  

Aizawa closed his eyes.  Because of course the Problem Child had the most problematic quirk possible.  Why not?  It wasn’t as if Aizawa hadn’t been told multiple times that Midoriya was related, however tenuously, to All for One.  

(If there was any justice in the world, the relation would be tenuous.)

The door was thrown open again, and the little Midoriya bounced out past the threshold, a notebook clutched in his hands, wearing bright red shoes, an All Might themed hat, and a stuffed to bursting bright yellow backpack.  Great to see that Midoriya’s aesthetic sense hadn’t changed in the last decade.  

“Are you going to be able to run in that?” Aizawa asked.  

The boy gave him a look as if he’d just said something ridiculous.  “Why wouldn’t I?  We’re only dreams, here.”

“What’ve you even got there?” asked Search, crouching down to put herself on his level.  

“My favorites!  I know I might not be able to bring them with me, but I’ve got to try, right?”

“Your favorite what?” asked Aizawa, who unfortunately thought he might know the answer.  

“My favorite quirks!”  He held out the notebook by the covers, opening it.  “And this one is my extra most favorite.  Even if I can’t bring any of the others, I’ve got to bring this one.”

One of the two pages Aizawa could see didn’t have words in it, but instead capital letters grouped together in threes.  ATG GCT ACG CTA GTA GTT TTT AGT…   It wasn’t a code Aizawa was immediately familiar with.  On the other page, were childish crayon drawings of a hand with what might have been a hole in the center.  Both Search and the vigilante went very pale.

“What,” said Aizawa, “quirk is that?”

“It’s my Daddy’s!”

Damn One and his ‘not really.’  Aizawa was absolutely sure he knew about this.  Whatever this was.  

“Okay.  And are you two going to explain to me why you look like that?”

“It looks a lot like his, ” muttered the vigilante.  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing with this?”

“Absolutely,” lied Aizawa.  

.

“Recovery Girl,” said Tenya, “while I understand the need to avoid the hero commission, I’m unsure of how we…”  He made a very small chopping motion with his hand, wary of inadvertently hitting Recovery Girl.  The experience in the mindscape had left him disoriented and uncoordinated.  “Got back here.”

Recovery Girl sighed.  “That’s what I’d like to know,” she said.  “You’ll have to ask your classmates.”

“That is a rather unsatisfying answer.”

Recovery Girl shrugged and took the blood pressure cuff off the equipment table.  “Arm, please.”

“Hello, students!” 

“Principal Nezu!  Eri-chan!”  Tenya made to stand and bow, but Recovery Girl smacked his ankle with her cane.  He settled.  The other awake students in the room made their own greetings.  Well.  Most of them did.  Bakugo just grunted.  

Tenya wanted to snap at him for it… among other things, for other reasons.  But he’d learned his lesson about revenge the hard way.  

That is, if he wanted it, he had to do it legally, logically, and in a way that wouldn’t put himself or others in danger.

Well, to be honest, that wasn’t the lesson he’d initially taken from the ordeal, which was that rage and revenge could blind you to the suffering of others and that purposefully putting oneself into a dangerous situation beyond one’s skill could get others hurt.  Both of which were true.  But, like the entrance exam, there were layers.  Many layers.  

So, Tenya was waiting.  

(Although he might not have, if Bakugo hadn’t already had a bruised eye when he woke up.)

Who knew?  Maybe he would think better of revenge after contemplating Midoriya’s apparent (and highly commendable) forgiveness.  

But, first, the principal was here!

“What are you doing here?  Aren’t you babysitting those two spies?” asked Recovery Girl.  

“I believe Hizashi and Nemuri have them well in hand,” said Nezu.  He tutted.  “Rather, I should say, Hizashi, Hatsume, Nemuri, and Togata.  I was able to cut Eri-chan’s interview short by implying that she usually has a nap around this time.  A shame.  She was doing marvelously .”  He patted Eri (who did look rather tired) on the head and cleared his throat.  “I have also just been informed that the commission is sending more investigators.  As such, this may be my only chance to interview you for some time.”  He hopped up onto a stool.  “Then, I’ll have to send you off to the underground, so you can avoid the investigators.  Assuming that they’re healthy enough?”

“They’re a bit disoriented,” said Recovery Girl, stripping the blood pressure cuff from Tenya’s arm.  “A little anemic, but nothing some food won’t fix.”

“The underground?” asked Tenya, confused.  “As in, underground heroes?”

“Not quite,” said Nezu, showing his teeth.  “Tell me, students, besides being mammals, what do mice, dogs, and bears all have in common?”

“They’re furry?” suggested Todoroki.

“That’s part of being a mammal, half-’n’-half,” snarled Bakugo.  

Todoroki shifted so he could gaze down at Bakugo as if he were some uninteresting but disgusting bug.  

“They dig,” said Tenya, quickly, before a fight could erupt.  “We’re literally going underground?”

“Very good , Iida,” said Nezu.  “Indeed, you will be.  But first, I have some questions about your experience.”

.

Gran Torino, in full hero costume, sat on Naomasa’s desk, grumbling as he ran through a list of Toshinori’s safehouse numbers with a burner phone.  It was annoying, but Naomasa would prefer Gran Torino here, helping him (for certain values of helping) to picking fights with HPSC employees.  

Which, Naomasa was absolutely sure he’d do, given the slightest provocation.  Something he doubted the HPSC would be shy about giving.  And then he’d get arrested, and Naomasa would have to bail him out.  Or he’d decide to go villain and resist arrest, and who knew how that’d turn out.

Gran Torino’s real phone chimed.  He glanced at it, huffed, and went back to punching numbers into the burner.  

Naomasa looked at the caller ID.  Nezu.  He rolled his eyes and answered Gran’s phone.  “This is Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa speaking,” he said.  

“Ah, Detective Tsukauchi.  I have just learned that the commission was able to procure a sample of Midoriya’s DNA and run it through the pan-agency database.  The results were… unfortunate.”

“How unfortunate?” asked Naomasa, slumping to half cradle his head.

“Please put me on speakerphone, if you are in a location where it is safe to do so.”

“Alright,” said Naomasa, hitting a button and preparing to hear something that would make him question reality and his place in the universe.

“Firstly,” chirped Nezu, “were you aware that all the holders of One for All have been related to one another?”

Ah, yes, existential dread.  As expected.  

“All of them?” asked Naomasa.  

“What,” said Gran, flatly.  “No, that doesn’t make sense.”

“And yet, it’s true,” said Nezu.  

“But wouldn’t that make them all related to All for One as well?”

“It does indeed, although for most of them, the relation is distant.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” repeated Gran, looking like he’d bitten into a lemon.  “Fidelity and Nana didn’t even know each other.”

“How did you even find this out?” asked Naomasa, wondering if he even wanted to know.  

“Ah.  You can find UA graduates in all sorts of places, detective,” said Nezu.  “But, now that I have your attention, Gran Torino, did you know that you are Midoriya Izuku’s grandfather?”

Gran’s face twisted further.  “I already had that two-colored brat ask me that after Hosu, so--”

“I’m not joking, Sorahiko,” said Nezu.  

Gran stared at the phone.  “What are the odds,” he said, finally.  He sounded dead.

“Quite high,” said Nezu, “if, as I am... coming to suspect , genetic compatibility plays some role in the selection of One for All holders.”

“That’s… wonderful,” said Naomasa.  “How is the HPSC spinning this?”

“I’m unsure, as of yet,” admitted Nezu.  “I’m afraid I have a few too many things to manage here to truly be on top of their decisions.  They’ve sent even more investigators.”

“Not like you to let that stop you.”

Nezu chittered.  “Quite so.  Gran Torino, based on this information, the HPSC will most likely wish to interrogate you, or even take you into custody.  I would recommend laying low.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” grumbled Gran.  

“Less than you wish you were.  As are we all.  Excuse me, I have students to attend to.”  There was a click.  

“Great,” said Naomasa.  “Toshinori is going to be thrilled about being related to his worst enemy.”

“He’ll suck it up,” said Gran, his voice still somewhat hollow.  “Midoriya doesn’t look like me at all.”

“That’s what you take away from--”

Gran’s phone buzzed.  This time, he looked at it.

“What is it now?” asked Naomasa.  “Is it Toshinori?”

“It’s the cemetery.  The HPSC is exhuming Nana.”

Naomasa swore.  

Gran snorted.  “For all the good it’ll do them.  She isn’t buried there.”

“What?”

“The funeral was just to give Toshinori closure.  We never managed to find her body.”  

Given the vague haunted note to Gran Torino’s voice, Naomasa thought Toshinori wasn’t the only one who needed the closure of a funeral.  

“Guess that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about, then,” said Naomasa, cautiously.  

“Yeah,” said Gran with a grunt that carried more than a little disbelief.  “We’ve got plenty of other stuff to worry about.”

.

As they tried to make their way back to the original apartment, Aizawa couldn’t help but pick out differences between the child (the quirk) and his student.  The age was the obvious one, of course, but there were others.  

The freckles, for instance.  This version of Midoriya had more of them, and they seemed… deeper, somehow.  Darker.  More symmetrical.  The pattern of them swept across his nose and cheeks and down his neck, making a reappearance on the backs of his hands.  

Then there were the questions.  The real Midoriya would fire off question after question about quirks if you gave him even the slightest indication that you'd answer them, but his questions had a different weight and focus.  The real Midoriya was typically more interested in effects, in mechanics, in results.  Exterior concerns.  This child asked questions like that, too, but he was asking more questions about how it felt to use the quirks he was asking about, which Midoriya usually didn't. 

Except once.  

Recently.  

(And then he’d somehow wound up using Aizawa’s quirk.)

And now his comment about remnants made more sense.  Not remnants as in vestiges, but as in the tattered remains of his own native quirk.  

Which brought Aizawa to the next oddity.  This Midoriya was limiting his questions to Search alone.  Search who was acting very confused by them all.  

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa, interrupting the barrage and preparing himself to take a shot on what was really a ridiculous theory.  There wasn't much chance of being overheard here.  This street was fairly empty, although noise from the riots still reached them.  

The child turned his huge green eyes on Aizawa. “Uh huh?”

“Who is your father?”

“Daddy’s the one that’s here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The one that’s here,” repeated the child.  “You know.  Around.  The one that brought us here.  The one that uses us.”

Aizawa was not about to swear in front of a toddler.

"Does your… father use you often?" asked Aizawa. 

The little Midoriya shrugged.  Kicked the ground.  "Yeah," he said, before puffing his cheeks out into a pout.  "But he doesn't use me right!  That's why I want to go home."  

“How does he use you?”

“He just has me…”  The child threw his hands out in frustration.  “Do stuff.  His quirk is s’posed to let him understand us, understand me , but he doesn’t use it like that, he just makes me understand me.  And I never get to do anything really fun.  Which isn’t fair. ”  

“I have to go,” said the vigilante, suddenly.  

“What?” said Search.  “Why?”

“Just do,” said the vigilante, backing away.

“Are you really that scared of a four year old?” asked Search.  

“You know he’s not really a four year old,” said the vigilante, just barely audible from his current distance.

“Look at him, he’s a baby!”

“I’m not a baby!  I’m already four!”  He held up the corresponding number of fingers.  

The vigilante shook his head and continued to walk away.  

“Well,” said Aizawa.  

“Yeah,” said Search, crossing her arms.  

The child tugged on Aizawa’s pant leg.  “Mr. Eraser?  I’m tired.  Can you carry me?”

Aizawa had his doubts about whether or not one could truly get tired here, but he couldn’t resist a face like that.  He picked the child up and ignored Search’s teasing smirk.  

They walked for a while longer, and it seemed that, for once, things would go smoothly.  Of course, this was a trick played by an eternally lying universe.  

“Hey!  It’s the kid that asks questions!” shouted one of the figures they passed, loudly.  

And a few minutes later, he and Search were running from a mob.  It wasn’t a large mob, but it was still one Aizawa didn’t want to fight while carrying a child in this world with uncertain rules.  Search, running beside him, seemed to be of the same mindset.  

"Something is going to notice this," she said as they pushed past the doors of the apartment building, temporarily blockading them with the receptionist’s desk.  

“I know,” grunted Aizawa.  “But we’re almost there, come on.”

The stairs felt steeper than before.  Possibly because he was carrying a small child with a large backpack.  Possibly it was psychological.  

Glass broke.  There were footsteps on the stairs behind them.  Too fast.  A speed quirk?  

He half turned, hoping Erasure would work here.  Midoriya’s quirk lobbed his full, heavy, bright yellow backpack over Search's head and at the speedster's face, knocking her down the stairs and taking out several people behind her as well.  

"Good job, Problem Child," huffed Aizawa, adjusting his grip on the child.  

They reached the apartment.  Aizawa stumbled into the kitchen, breathing heavily.  Search slammed the door behind the and threw the bolt.  The question now was how to get back. 

The light beyond the curtains shifted, lightened.  

The door was thrown open, revealing a disheveled and bruised Midoriya with white-dyed hair.  "This way!" he said, waving them out of the apartment.  

"Wait," said Search.  "Are we- how am I here ?"

"Same reason Aizawa-sensei could go there," said Midoriya.  

"But I'm a quirk, not a human, I- am I going to stay here?"

As they went down the stairs, their surroundings warped until they were emerging into a facsimile of the common area of the class 1-A dorms.  

"Maybe?  I don't see why not.  I mean, I have your DNA, so…"

"What?" asked Search and Aizawa at the same time.  

"Problem Child, please don't tell me that she's also related to you."

"She isn't!  But One for All, the quirk passed down to me from One, it scans DNA and remembers the DNA of people who are compatible with it, in this case relatives, that's part of why I was able to use your quirk, sensei--"

"So, she is related."

"No, but All for One is," said Midoriya, "and he had Search when I saw him last, and that whole thing should be easier, now that," he waved at his child-shaped quirk.  "So, there's nothing he has on you that I don't have," he continued, addressing Search.  He bent over, putting his hands on his knees.  

Midoriya looked exhausted.  

"Is this what you look like right now?" asked Aizawa.  

"More or less," said Midoriya.  

"Can you give me back?" asked Search.  "Can you put me back where I'm supposed to be?"

Midoriya stood up straight, and looked at his quirk.  He held his hands out, and Aizawa passed the quirk over.  There was a flash of light.  When it faded, Midoriya was in casual clothes, a green hoody and a t-shirt decorated like All Might's golden age costume.  He was holding the notebook with All for One's quirk in it in his left hand.  

"I don't know," said Midoriya.  His thumb brushed the cover of the notebook.  "But if Ragdoll is there when we get there, I'll try.

The building shook, windows cracking like they never would in real life (Nezu had gone all out bulletproofing the buildings, after all).  

"Sensei," Midoriya said, shifting his focus.  He held out an autoinjector pen.  "You should wake up, now."  Dust sifted down from the ceiling as the building shook again.  A crack ran up one of the walls.  Something fell out of a kitchen cabinet and broke.  

“Problem Child-- Midoriya.  I’m not leaving you to fight a villain on your own.”

“I’m not on my own.  There are eight other people here.  And also Search.” 

“And how many of them were able to beat All for One?”

“It depends on what you mean by ‘beat.’”

“I’m helping you with this.  End of discussion.”

Midoriya regarded him oddly.  “Alright,” he said, finally, softly, lowering the autoinjector.  “Let’s go do this, then.”

.

All for One had many quirks.  Enough that a lesser man would be hard pressed to keep track of them all.  But All for One was not a lesser man, and the two quirks that had just gone missing were not just any quirks.  One was a quirk he’d put quite a bit of effort into acquiring, for practical reasons, and the other was not only key to noumu production, but rather important to him on a personal level as well.  

After all, it was his youngest son’s.  

Grudgingly, All for One was impressed.  Even with this mental quirk bridging them (and All for One really had to find out what quirk it was), finding those two specific quirks and extracting them couldn’t have been easy.  Then again, Izuku was his son.   

He wondered, swinging himself out of the way of one of Nana’s attacks with a bloated, oversized arm, how Izuku had even known to look for his quirk.  Or, perhaps, the goal had been to retrieve Search, and he merely discovered his own quirk on the way?  A coincidence, but All for One could not rightly say how much of one without more information on how this quirk worked.  

Speaking of which, he needed to get those quirks back, and quickly.  

(Oh, and Izuku being able to do that would seem to indicate that he could, in fact, pull his brother and the rest of their family over the divide into his mind, no matter what his foolish little brother believed.)

He oriented himself in the direction he could almost feel the quirks in (and wasn’t that a delightful sensation), and moved .  

 His opponents were suitably taken off guard.  Had they truly thought they were fighting him at full strength?  How--

Ryuji appeared in his senses for just long enough to punch him in the face.  Again.  That was becoming aggravating.  What was it with his brother's successors and punching him in the face.  Oops, there was Kazuki's sword again.  

"Don't you get tired swinging that barbaric thing around?"

"Don’t you get tired of being a massive bastard?"  He said the last word in English.  How overdramatic.

"We have the same parents," he reminded his ever-forgetful brother.

"And were they married?"

All for One felt his lip curl, and used air cannon to flick Nana out of the air (she was caught by Miranda, but the point was a respite).  "It's hardly my fault, what that deadbeat--" 

"HEY!  DEADBEAT!"

"Incredible timing," whispered his brother, quietly enough that he would have had difficulty hearing the words if he hadn't picked up several hearing quirks after he was blinded.  

Then the other, earlier words sunk in, as well as the speaker.  He turned trying to locate Izuku, but as his exquisitely frustrating family kept attacking him, this proved difficult.  

"YEAH.  I'M TALKING TO YOU."

"How did you find out?" asked All for One, the tips of his ears growing ever so slightly hot as he realized this would, inevitably, bring the wrath of Inko down on his head.  

"LIKE IT WAS HARD.  DEADBEAT."

"I am not a deadbeat!  I've made sure you and Inko are very well off!"

The attacks from the others had tapered off.  Apparently, they did possess some rudimentary manners.  

"MONEY DOESN'T BUY AFFECTION, OR MAKE UP FOR EMOTIONAL NEGLECT."

"Well," huffed All for One, "I could hardly visit you after All Might--"

“ALL MIGHT DIDN’T PUNCH YOUR STUPID FACE OFF UNTIL I WAS LIKE TEN.  YOU DISAPPEARED WHEN I WAS FIVE.”

How was Izuku being so loud?

“YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT THAT MADE ME THINK?  FOR OVER A DECADE?  THAT YOU LEFT BECAUSE I DIDN’T HAVE A QUIRK.”

“It was too dangerous for me to--”

“YOU’RE JUST A DEADBEAT.”

“Would you prefer me to have vaulted you?” demanded All for One, incredulous.  It was like nothing he did by his family was ever right.  He either gave them too much care, or too much independence, and then they went and became heroes.  

Except for Garaki, but Garaki was descended from his father’s ‘legitimate’ son, not All for One, and he was much too… worshipful for All for One to truly feel a familial connection to him.  Oh, and Magne, but Magne had been such a distant relative, even more distant than Rokuya (and she was dead).  Then there was ‘Nine,’ but the boy had, ultimately, betrayed him (and he was also dead).  Tomura was shaping up to be a wonderful villain, but that had cost a great deal of care, planning, and psychological manipulation that even he was loath to use on closer relatives.

“HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF MODERATION?  WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“That’s no way to speak to your father!” snapped All for One, now thoroughly annoyed.  That was something often said on TV shows, wasn’t it?  Surely, it would have some effect.  

“YOU ARE FIRED FROM THE POSITION OF FATHER.  ALL MIGHT IS MY NEW DAD.”

“You can’t fire--”

As his distraction peaked, the One for All users struck.  

(His family might consist entirely of heroes and fools, but All for One couldn't deny they had good tactical sense.)

.

Aizawa had the privilege of watching a Midoriya (wearing the class costume from the 1-A Culture Festival performance) shout depreciations and insults into a megaphone, and another Midoriya (still in hoody and All Might t-shirt - although the t-shirt was slowly mutating into a ‘t-shirt’ t-shirt) crouched nearby, hiding a bright pink face in his hands while a oddly quiet All Might patted the second Midoriya on the head, all on the roof of Heights Alliance.  This was not the strangest thing he had ever seen.  Probably.  At least that he wanted to admit.  He had a reputation as a jaded underground hero to keep up.  And other stuff he’d seen in here was much stanger.  Like Midoriya calling Tempest his great aunt, for instance.

This was, however, close to the top of the list.    

"Can you see him yet?" asked blushing-Midoriya.  

"No," said Aizawa.  "Still too much smoke."

"You- you know, it's technically not smoke," said Midoriya.

"Midoriya, what happens if he's still in your mental landscape when the quirk ends?"

Midoriya looked up.  "Best case, he gets booted back to his own head, like you should be.  Medium case one, he gets sent back to his own head, but his mental connection to T-toshinori and me is strong.  Which- which would suck, but we could live with it.  Medium case two, he gets stuck here and acts like the vestiges.  That would, uh, be way worse, but it'd also be worse for him, and we could outvote him on any consensus issues.  Worst- worst case, he gets stuck here and has more power than the vestiges and steals my body.  We want to avoid that."

No kidding.  

"Souma thinks he's going to jump after Nana or Miranda soon," said Midoriya, voice suddenly sharp.  "Be ready."

Aizawa hadn't taken his attention off the battlefield at all, but he braced himself to use his quirk.  Even if he wasn't sure it would work on All for One in this mental landscape.

And then, sure enough, a suited figure leapt above the dense clouds, directly for Tempest.  Aizawa activated his quirk, his hair lifting (he wasn't thinking about it) and his eyes burning.  

All for One started to fall.  The shouting Midoriya vanished, and the other one took a flying leap off the roof and exploded into green lighting. 

.

The fight with All for One had made its scrabbling, halting way to Izuku's mindscape.  This was, partially, by design.  The rapidly changing terrain (and, to some extent, laws of physics) kept All for One off-guard.  The path they had guided All for One down was also far away from easy contact points with his mind, the better to keep him from dragging one of them back.

But this was also a barrier to getting him back into the vault.  Which was why the timing here was so important.  

As Izuku arced through the sky, the landscape below him shifted into something older.  Something without the dorms.  Something Toshinori would have seen, jumping his way to the school while he still had full access to One for All.  

He grabbed All for One’s ankle as a square hole opened up in the otherwise blue and cloudless sky.  Beyond it was the glittering skyline of Tokyo and another hole.  This one was a window into a torn battlefield.  Another hole looked out into a server room, and the one after that onto a city street during a festival.  Then, Souma’s village was the next scene.  After that, a beach whipped by waves and wind.  Then, a blasted building at night.  Finally, past that, sitting at the end of the squares like the terminus of a tunnel, was the vault, its door warped and twisted, but visibly repairing itself.  

Izuku flung All for One through the tunnel of memories, each passageway seeming to expand around them until he and all the vestiges were standing in front of the vault in Kazuki’s memories once more.  

The door was fixed.  Izuku ran for it, all the others beside him, and they pushed .  

Mere centimeters from closure something hit the other side of the vault and growled. Their progress slowed.  But they were almost there--

.

Aizawa woke up.  

“Where the hell am I?”

“UA,” said Recovery Girl primly.

Aizawa sat up, expecting to be sore for some reason.  Of course, he wasn’t, because all he’d done was sleep for eight hours.  Which was… novel.  

Dear lord.  He actually felt awake for once.  

“Where in UA?” he asked, not recognizing the surroundings.  

“The underground,” said Recovery Girl.  

“Are we in high lockdown?”  Had the League attacked UA?  Or, worse, had the commission attacked UA?

“No, but Nezu thought it best to bring anyone in a sensitive situation down here,” said Recovery Girl.  “How do you feel?”

“Fine.  Where are my kids?”

“Except for Midoriya, they’re also down here,” said Recovery Girl.  “Something about not being accessible to the commission while they were running a psyops campaign against them.”

“They’re doing what now?”

.

“Okay,” said Denki.  “That’s video compilation defending Midoriya’s character number one.  How are you guys going on the social media front?”

“Well,” said Jirou, “there are a lot of people out there who really hate the government and really hate heroes.”

“Unfortunately most of those people are villains,” said Shinsou.  

“Hey, we don’t know that,” said Jirou.  

“Okay, fine.  A lot of them latched on, but they’re being dismissed as villains and villain fanboys.”

“Alas, mon ami, I am quite sure that some of them are villains and many more of them are villain fanboys.”

“How can you even tell?” asked Denki, still focused on his own screen.  Video compilations didn’t make themselves.

“The username ‘dabisthehottestofhot69’ doesn’t leave very much to the imagination.  Especially not combined with that profile pic.  Ghastly.”  

“I don’t know,” said Mineta, who was sitting on the top of the couch behind Aoyama.  “It almost looks like Todoroki with all those filters on it.”

“That’s probably because he’s my brother,” said Todoroki calmly walking into the room as if he didn’t use his first post-quirk-coma words to them to drop an incredible truth.  

A truth that explained… nothing, really, if Denki was being honest.  Actually, it just made everything even more confusing.  

“You’re related to Dabi,” said Yaoyorozu.  She sounded defeated.  “The villain Dabi.”

“Yes,” said Todoroki.  “He’s my older brother, Touya.  We thought he was dead.”  

“Are you the only one who has fought free of the darkness of dreams, Todoroki?” asked Tokoyami.  

“No, the others are still getting checked by Recovery Girl.  Also, I got kicked out of the infirmary for punching Bakugo.”  He sat down on one of the couches and made a small contemplative noise.  “What are you doing?”

“We’re blasting the HPSC on socials,” said Denki.  “Wanna help?”

Todoroki stared at him blankly.  

“We’re conducting a public relations campaign against the Hero Commission to support Midoriya,” explained Shinsou, dryly.  

“Oh.  Yes.  I would like to help.”

“Great,” said Denki.  “Yaomomo can hook you up with a computer.  Do you have any social media?”

“I have Tunglr.”

“Hm, no, that’s no good, only weirdos go there and no one takes it seriously.  You need Trill or HeroTube.  Maybe Pictogram.”

“I can get him set up,” said Tokoyami.

“So, first,” said Denki, “you need to write out all the shady stuff you saw the commission do while you were with Midoriya - They did do shady stuff, right?”

“Tons,” said Todoroki.  “There was a guy named Suzuki who was with us while we were in Midoriya’s mind.  He was awful.”

“Great!”

Todoroki frowned.  “It really wasn’t.”

“For our social media campaign.”

“Once you’ve done that,” said Jirou, “you should upload all your best conspiracy theories about the Hero Commission.”

Something twinkled in Todoroki’s eyes.  “My time has come.”

The door slammed open.  Todoroki slumped down in his seat and scrunched his legs up.  

“Where,” growled Bakugo, squinting through two black eyes, “is Icyhot?”

“Yo, Bakugo!  We didn’t know you were awake!  Want to help with--?”

“NO!” 

Bakugo slammed the door shut.  They could hear him stomp away outside.  

“So,” said Jirou, “you hit him twice? ”

“No,” said Todoroki, serenely, “Uraraka hit him first.”

.

Izuku gasped.  Toshinori stumbled.  Reality seemed to become… realer.  Sharper.  A blur that had been following them around for most of the day faded away.  Perception, knowledge, memory, and personality shuffled themselves into the configurations they were more used to.  Mostly.  

Toshinori swore in English.  

Izuku couldn’t help but laugh.  “It was- it was a mind affecting quirk,” he said, breathlessly.  

“Not much farther now,” said Toshinori, licking blood from his lips.

“Did we-  He was on the other side of the door, right?  We did get him out.”

“We did,” said Toshinori, hoarsely.  “We got him back into the vault.”

“But we didn’t- We didn’t get it closed.  The door, it wasn’t--”

“It’s okay, my boy.  It’ll be okay.”

“The door wasn’t closed. ”

“It’ll be okay,” said Toshinori, again.  “You’ll be okay.  I…  I think I’ll need you to give me directions, though, now that you aren’t in my head.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Izuku.  “You were never here.  I forgot.”

Toshinori managed a chuckle.  “Me, too.”

.

“Hawks, sir?  Is something wrong?”  

Wow, these newly graduated heroes were always so eager.  Hawks laughed, brushing off the concern.  

“No, no,” he said.  “Nothing is wrong at all.”

He had thought, for a moment, that he’d felt a feather moving, the one he’d given to Dabi, but the feeling was gone again.  That… wasn’t normal.  Phantom sensation, maybe?  He shook his head, dismissing it.  If it happened again, however…

“You were saying?”

.

Far away in Tartarus, the medical readings for All for One slowly returned to normal.  Everyone heaved a sigh of relief, then busied themselves trying to make sure that he couldn’t do whatever it was he’d been doing ever again.  

All for One kept his awareness turned inward.  By all accounts, he had just suffered a defeat.  The loss of both Search and Replica was a severe setback, and likely to impede both his escape plans and his overall plan for world domination.  

But plans changed.  This was far from a complete loss.  When one door closed, another opened.

Midoriya Hisashi smiled.

.

Toshinori stared at the campsite.  They’d been so close, but… 

The campsite wasn’t empty.  

The campsite wasn’t empty.  

Only one car, a van, was in the parking lot, but that was all the Pussycats needed.  

“There’s not really a lot of other choices for us right now,” said Izuku.  

“Heh.  Are you still reading my mind, my boy?” 

“I… don’t think so?  I, ah, I did say I’d try to get Ragdoll’s quirk back to her.”

“I know, I know,” said Toshinori.  What else could he say?  That he wished their continued freedom wasn’t contingent on what the Pussycats would do?  That was a given.  “Where’s the main door?”

“The what?”

“Where the Pussycats stay,” said Toshinori.

“Oh, that one.”  He nodded to one building.  “At least- at least that was where they were during the- during the training camp.”

“Alright,” said Toshinori.  He picked his way across the parking lot and, his hands full of Izuku, simply leaned on the doorbell.  This lean evolved into a more general one against the wall, and before he knew it, he was slumping down to sit on the ground next to the door.

He was exhausted.  If the campsite had been a mile further, well, plus ultra and all that, but determination could only take you so far when your body was ruined.  He let his head rest on the wall.  It was weird, feeling it directly against the skin of his scalp.  He wanted to start growing his hair back as soon as possible.  

The door opened with a click, and a woman leaned out, not quite looking in the right direction to see him and Izuku.  Toshinori didn’t have the encyclopedic knowledge of heroes that Izuku did, but he was fairly sure he knew which of the Pussycats this was.  

Toshinori cleared his throat and tried to smile.  “Hello, Mandalay.  I’m afraid we’re here to impose on your hospitality.”

Her head whipped around so fast Toshinori had to wonder if she’d cracked it.  An expression of concentration flitted over her face.  She was probably using her quirk to alert her teammates.  

“Where are you injured?” she asked, kneeling down.

“It might be easier to ask where we aren’t injured,” said Toshinori.  “Izuku took the worst of it.”

“Did not ,” objected Izuku, weakly.  Toshinori blinked in surprise.  He had almost thought that Izuku might have fallen asleep.

A small figure propelled itself from the doorway before Mandalay could ask another question.

“You’re not going to turn them in!” shouted a little boy.  

“Of course we aren’t,” said Mandalay, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “But it’ll be easier to carry them with one of Ryuko’s constructs, okay?  We’re going to take care of them.  That’s our job.”

“Do you really mean that?” asked the boy.

“I do,” said Mandalay.  “You heard us all yelling at the TV today.  But these guys need some first aid right now.  

“But you’re heroes,” said the boy, worrying at the hem of his shirt.  “You’ve gotta do what they say.  It’s the law.”

“We’re professional heroes, sure,” said Mandalay.  “But before that, we’re just plain old heroes.  And heroes help people, no matter what the law says about it.”

“It’s okay, Kota,” mumbled Izuku.

“Why don’t you go in and help Tomoko and Yawara with getting the infirmary tidied up?”

Pixie-Bob slid out of the door, two collapsible stretchers tucked under her arms.  “Alright, what’s the damage?”

“I’m still trying to get these two to tell me that, actually.”

.

“I’m sure you tried your very hardest, Machia, dear,” said Inko, patting Izuku’s once-babysitter on his very large, craggy shoulder.  “Izuku can be… slippery when he doesn’t want to be found, I’m afraid.”

“Wait,” said Shigaraki Tomura.  “You’re giving up? ”

“Of course not!  But we’re hardly in a position to continue right now, are we?”  She gestured at the burning building and her own state of relative undress.  She gave Tomura an encouraging smile.  The boy clearly needed better role models in his life.  “It’s the basis of first aid and something I’m still trying to teach Izuku.  You have to make sure you are alright, before you can help others.”  Or beat the living daylights out of them, which is what she was going to do to Hisashi as soon as she found him.  “What you’re going to do now is bring me to your black market supplier.”

“Hey,” said Twice, “how did she know about Giran?  How did she know about anything, idiot!  She knows things!”

Inko smiled mildly and filed away the name for later.  It had been a long time since she’d put these skills to use, but it was like riding a bike.  You never really forgot, no matter how long it had been.  And once you started again, you wondered why you had stopped in the first place.

.

Even when being productive and attempting to destroy the reputation of a powerful arm of the government while hiding in an underground bunker, Aizawa’s class was next to impossible to corral.  And loud.  Very loud.  Especially Bakugo, who had decided to help by uploading stories about what Midoriya had been like as a toddler.  

Personally, Aizawa wasn’t sure how that could help.  But Kaminari and Mina seemed to be very enthusiastic about it.  Whatever.  At least they were all (except for the Problem Child himself) in the same room and unlikely to go running off for the moment.  Even Eri was there, aggressively making crayon drawings of herself and ‘Deku, the best hero ever.’

Which meant that he could finally return to the warm, familiar embrace of his sleeping bag.

His new cell phone rang.  He picked it up without much thought.  Very few people knew his new number, and Nezu was screening his calls.  It wouldn’t be the Hero Commission.  

“Aizawa,” he said.  

“This is Sosaki.”

Aizawa frowned.  What could Mandalay want?  “What is it?”

“We only just found it, but you left something here after the training camp.  It looks important.  Not that we blame you!  It was really hectic after all that.  But we figured you were probably looking for it about now.”

To the best of his knowledge, Aizawa hadn’t left anything at the camp.  He’d barely brought anything with him to begin with.  So what--

Ragdoll.  Search.  Midoriya had said that if Ragdoll was there, he’d bring it back.  Which meant that he and Yagi had been on the way to somewhere the Wild Wild Pussycats frequented.  

Something he’d been looking for.  Yeah.  He could probably call Midoriya that.  

“I know what you’re talking about,” said Aizawa.  “I’m a little tied down over here, but I’ll try to see when I can get free.”

“Thank goodness,” said Sosaki.  “Come whenever you’re able.”

“Will do.”

Aizawa hung up and wormed his way out of his sleeping bag.  It really never ended, did it?

Chapter Text

“I cannot recommend this course of action,” said Nezu, steepling his paws.  “The commission will be looking for you.”

“Legally,” said Aizawa, “they can’t hold me for anything.”  He had not, after all, done anything illegal.  Anything he’d done in the dreamscape could be written off as, well, happening in a dream.  

“The commission does not seem to care about that.”

“I’ve got to look after my students,” said Aizawa.  “Even the ones who are idiots.  Especially the ones who are idiots.”

“Quite so,” said Nezu.  “Also, could you please let Midoriya know that his notebooks are safe?  They are quite a monument to the art of quirk analysis.”

Aizawa closed his eyes.  He would like to say that he was too tired for this, but the truth was that he was feeling well rested.  He still wanted to crawl back into his sleeping bag and never get out.  The things he had to deal with.

“ You took Midoriya’s notebooks?” asked Aizawa.  “Hizashi and Nemuri were frantic about those.”

“Indeed I did!  They were also quite enlightening with regards to understanding the mental development of human young.”

There were so many things wrong with that statement.  

“You’re a teacher.  You run a school.”

“For teenagers, yes,” said Nezu.  “Children Eri-chan’s age remain rather mysterious to me!”

“Midoriya’s development probably isn’t normal.”

“To be sure,” agreed Nezu.  

Aizawa gave up.  

.

“Has anyone been able to figure out where Midoriya Inko is?” asked Gran Torino.  

Naomasa startled from where he’d been half-dozing on his desk.  He’d been unable to contact Toshinori and had instead, unfortunately for his sanity, spent much of the evening going over the spiderweb that was Midoriya and Toshinori’s family tree.

“Oh,” said Naomasa.  “You really didn’t know she was your daughter?  I assumed you knew where she was.”

“Don’t you have a lie detector quirk or something?”

“People always seem to assume that,” said Naomasa.  “I don’t know why.  But even if I did , you didn’t actually say you didn’t know.  You just mumbled something about a ‘two-color brat’ and odds.”

Naomasa could almost see the gears turning in Gran Torino’s head.  After all, Naomasa also hadn’t denied anything outright.  

“Real cagey about your quirk, huh?  I can respect that,” said Gran Torino.  “I’d known about the baby.  It would have been real hard for Nana to hide that she was pregnant from me at that point.  Didn’t know it was the kid’s mom.  So, no.  I don’t know where she is.”

“Well,” said Naomasa, imagining all the terrible things that could have made an ordinary housewife like Midoriya Inko disappear so thoroughly.  The commission, the League of Villains, random weirdos, other elements of the government, the remnants of the Shie Hassaikai, quirk cultists, angry All Might fanboys.  It could have been any of those groups or none of them.  It was, tangentially, possible that Midoriya Inko had managed to disappear herself, but extremely unlikely.  “That’s not great.”

.

“Huh,” said Himiko, brightly, “I would have thought that you’d be against stealing, Mom!”

“Had your supplier been closer, I would have preferred to avoid it, but different actions are appropriate under different circumstances,” said Inko, tugging futilely at the blazer she’d borrowed from Himiko.  “You have to weigh the harm your actions may cause against their benefit.  Stealing from a shipping center like this causes very little harm to individuals, but is a great benefit to us.  Especially if we conduct ourselves stealthily and avoid casualties.”

It was at this point that Dabi, thrown over Machia’s shoulder, startled into consciousness and promptly lit himself on fire.  

Inko sighed.  She knew that heists rarely went completely according to plan, but they hadn’t even gotten to the planning part.

Ah, well.  Time to improvise, she supposed.  

.

In Tartarus, a certain villain used a quirk to repeatedly dial a certain, cherished phone number.  That the person on the other end wasn’t answering was starting to elevate his blood pressure enough that the technicians monitoring his vitals had started to notice.  

.

Izuku wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, only that he must have done so at some point.  The space he was in was dark, warm, and had an air of unreality to it.  No up, no down, just a faint, steady pressure, as if he were underwater.  

The sensation cleared, slowly.  Izuku didn’t rush it.  It didn’t feel like something that needed to be rushed.  

He ran his hand over the textured fabric of the sofa he found himself on.  On the other side of the sofa, doodling in a notebook, was his…  His quirk, he guessed.

“Well,” said Kazuki, perched on a nearby armchair, “this is interesting.”

“Um,” said Izuku, “how…?”

“I have theories!” said the other him, beaming at Izuku from over the top of the notebook.

“What,” said Toshinori, sounding slightly panicked, “I thought we were done with this.”  He gestured at the cozy room around them, currently populated by the nine holders of One for All, Search, and Izuku’s quirk.  

He should probably name it (him?), at some point.  

“This… experience will probably have side effects,” said Kazuki, “but I think we’ve been going in this direction for a while.  We’ve been able to speak to you in dreams before.”

“Uh huh,” said quirk-Izuku.  “This is how it’s supposed to work, I think.  I haven’t gotten the best look at it yet, but I will .”

There were so many things that Izuku wanted to say right now.  Toshinori beat him to it.  

“Is All for One gone?” 

“He isn’t dead,” said Souma.  

“That’s not what he meant, Four,” said Daigoro.

“As far as we can tell, he isn’t in our minds,” said Rokuya.  “He was pushed entirely into his own.”

Kazuki sighed.  “Which, unfortunately, doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences to not getting that door properly closed.”

“This is why I said we shouldn’t let anyone in,” said Miranda, crossing her arms.  “An attack is an attack.”

“Miranda,” said Nana, leaning forward to look her ancestor in the eye, “tell me you wouldn’t seriously regret killing a bunch of teenagers, even if they were ‘government stooges.’”

“Those are not the words I used,” grumbled Miranda.  “You’re right, I would have regretted it.  But I regret this, too.”

“If you’d done that, I’d be in pretty much the same position with the government, but my best friends would be dead, so…”

“She’s taking a tough pose,” said Rokuya, leaning over the arms of his chair and the couch to whisper to Izuku, “but she didn’t actually argue that hard when you were first hit by Suzuki’s quirk.  It’s more of a devil’s advocate thing.”

“I am so confused right now,” said Search, one of her eyes twitching.  

“Well, maybe if someone let me explain my theories it wouldn’t be so confusing,” said Izuku’s quirk.

“Didn’t I absorb you or something?” asked Izuku.  Maybe it was all the trauma of the past day, or the fact that he was dreaming again, but it still felt like at least half his brain power was gone.

“Yep,” said the quirk, “but since you’re dreaming and we’ve been apart for a while, you’re seeing me like this.”  He bounced slightly on the couch as he shifted into a kneeling position.  “Also, I think it might be part of the same problem as the stockpile.”

It was really weird talking to, well, a part of himself like this.  As soon as the quirk said something, it was like he’d already known it, he just hadn’t known he’d known it.  

“It took you months to start thinking about One for All as yours, and we’ve only been back together for a couple hours.  And before that, you’d only used me once.  You hadn’t even named me yet.”

“What are you named?” asked Izuku.  It might make it easier to refer to the quirk if he had something to call it.  It?  Him?

The quirk made a face.  “Well, Daddy called me Replica, but even though that’s all he used me for, it’s not all I can do.  It was so boring being with him, even though his quirk is so cool.  I’m glad I’m back and you’ll use me lots.”

Izuku, still not sure what using his quirk would entail, despite the odd impressions flicking through his mind, didn’t say anything.  The quirk didn’t seem to notice.  

“So, I guess I don’t have a name, yet?  You’ll have to decide.”

“Replica,” said Search, slowly.  “Because you can copy quirks.”

Izuku’s quirk shrugged.  “Yep,” he said, without concern.  

“You copied me, too.”

“Yeah, but Daddy doesn’t have that copy anymore, and I didn’t get a chance to copy you again after he gave it away.  I was too busy making a new copy of his.  All for One is complicated .”

“Wait,” said Toshinori, something between horror and panic coloring his voice, “you mean, there’s another version of All for One floating around somewhere?”

“Yeah.  There’s a lot of copies of a lot of things.  But I can only hold onto one copy of a quirk at a time.  I can only make new ones if they’re removed.”

Izuku nodded.  That made sense.  

“Where?”  asked Toshinori.

“I don’t know.  I couldn’t really tell what was going on in the real world or anything.”

“Probably in a noumu,” said Izuku, picking at his lower lip.  “I don’t think Shigaraki had it, otherwise he would have used much more than decay, and I don’t think All for One would give it to anyone he didn’t control utterly.  Hopefully it won’t be able to use it…  Do you know?”

“Nope.”

Izuku sighed as the other One for All users started muttering about here we go again .  He hadn’t really thought his quirk would know, because he certainly didn’t.  “What did you mean about the stockpile?”

“Oh, I want to hear this, actually,” said Kazuki, leaning forward to rest his cheek on his hand.  

“Are you saying you didn’t want to hear about the oth-- Oof!” Rokuya tumbled backward into his seat after taking a pillow to the face.

“Okay,” said the quirk, happily, “so, the stockpile quirk originally belonged to someone else.”

“My half brother, yes,” said Kazuki.  

Izuku wished he knew the rest of the story behind that, he really did.

“Which meant that you were pretty genetically compatible with the stockpile quirk, so it didn’t kill you or mess you up physically a whole lot.  But that’s not how your quirk, One for All, was supposed to interact with other quirks.  You have a different mechanism.”

Images and impressions of that mechanism briefly impressed themselves on Izuku.  

“So,” continued the quirk, “you didn’t really know how to deal with it, and it wound up damaging the stockpile a whole lot.  From what I can tell…”  He tilted his head.  “From what I can tell, and I’ll be able to tell a lot more once you let me in properly, the quirk phantom for the stockpile was basically destroyed, and what was left got integrated in the One for All quirk phantom, which is part of you.”  He nodded at Kazuki.  “Which let you use the quirk more or less okay.  But it wasn’t natural, and it made One for All really work hard to integrate it and the extra genetic part.  And it had to do that extra work every time it was passed down, instead of passing on the quirks it picked up the right way.  I think that also might be why it fades out of the previous holders, too, because from what I see, it really shouldn’t do that, unless maybe the stockpile works more like pouring liquid into a cup, and the pitcher can only pour into one cup at a time and--”

The quirk spoke faster and faster as he went, and Izuku was duly impressed by how much they could get out without having to stop for breath.  That probably had something to do with not being a physical being.  

“ Any way, once All Might passed One for All to Izuku, that changed, since he still had parts of me in him, and I can directly receive quirks, which meant that One for All could finally work the way it was supposed to and start incorporating the quirks of past users.”  The quirk looked very pleased with himself.

“How does that bear on what’s happening between you and me now, though?” asked Izuku.  

“You followed that?” whispered Daigoro, loudly.  He, too, got a pillow in his face.

“Of course he followed that,” said the quirk.  “I’m part of him, and I’m the one that’s saying it!   But, the point is, getting a quirk yanked out or shoved in isn’t, you know, normal .  It messes up how things are supposed to work.  Even if it’s a quirk you’re compatible with.  You don’t even know how I work, yet,” finished the quirk with a whine.

That was very true, and also something he had to fix as soon as possible.  Once again, he found himself at a starting line that most other people his age crossed long ago.

“How do you work?” asked Izuku, leaning forward.  He had a notebook in one hand, and a pen in the other.

The quirk grinned, and it was like looking in a mirror.

.

“Okay, before we wake up, I have another question, for all of you.”

“Go ahead, Izuku,” said Nana, “you deserve answers, especially from me.”

Izuku blinked, recalled some revelations that had come up during the dreamscape… fiasco, he was going to call it a fiasco, and shook his head.  “Not those questions, sorry, I’m still processing the fact that you’re all related to me.  Any more and I’d explode.”

“Don’t worry,” said Toshinori, patting Nana’s hand, “we’re both very excited about being related to you.”

“Fair enough, please continue.”

“All of us being here, like this, does this mean you’ll still be able to talk in our heads and stuff?”

“No idea,” said Kazuki.  “Haven’t really had a chance to try it out.”

“Okay, but if it does, do you think Toshinori and I will still be telepathic with each other?”

“I mean,” said Kazuki, looking between the two of them contemplatively.  “He is here.  You are here,” he told Toshinori.  

Toshinori squinted at him.  “Are you trying to feed me a line?”

“Hey,” said Izuku’s quirk, “you know what would make us and Toshinori telepathic with each other?  Two copies of Mandalay’s quirk.”

“Oh,” said Izuku.  “That would work, wouldn’t it?  Can we do that?  We can do that, but do we have the time? ”

“If I followed your explanation earlier,” said Rokuya, “it would mainly depend on how unethical you felt like being.”

“We’re not going to be unethical,” said Miranda.  

“That’s sure something coming from you.”

“Look, I never pretended to be a saint, okay?”

“Here we go again,” said Kazuki.  

Search looked at Izuku, troubled.  “You aren’t going to do that, though, are you?  You aren’t going to take Telepath.”

“N-no!” said, Izuku, practically launching himself from the couch to wave his hands in negation.  “No!  We just like looking at quirks.  Respectfully.”

Toshinori grabbed one of Izuku’s flailing hands and pulled him back into a seat between himself and Nana.  “Yes, Izuku’s a very respectful young man.”

“And I will get you back to Ragdoll, if she’s okay with me using, well, that quirk on her, and I’m able to actually process it, I think it should…”  He trailed off, looking for his quirk.  He’d forgotten about it’s representation, for a moment.  But the quirk was no longer sitting on the other couch.  

Izuku looked down.  The backs of his hands were covered in neat lines of dark freckles.

.

It took Aizawa longer than he would have liked to actually get the time to drive out to the Wild Wild Pussycats’ campsite.  As much as he would have liked to rush right out as soon as he got Nezu’s blessing, or as close to Nezu’s blessing as he was likely to get from the rat, it would still be stupid, illogical to rush out while the hunt for Midoriya and Yagi was still so hot.  Not to mention whatever was going on with the League of Villains, who had been sighted stealing Vlad King’s car of all things.  

(That brief sighting had been used as more evidence that Midoriya and the League were somehow involved, even though it was Yagi who had originally stolen the car.)

Plus, Aizawa’s students still needed support and guidance.  Social media skill aside, they hadn’t ever launched this kind of PR attack against anything, much less a powerful branch of the government.

… Of course Aizawa hadn’t, either.  He had a Tunglr account solely for posting and finding cat videos, and Trill, because a stupidly large number of villains posted their crimes there, but that didn’t mean he was active on either platform.  He wasn’t an… influencer.  

Still, the students kept asking for his opinion, so he was obligated to help.  It may or may not have given him warm fuzzies in his chest, like when the alley cats had started coming up to him when they fed him, instead of hiding until he left.  

Anyway, moving on.  

He spent the next few hours after speaking to Nezu disgustingly energetic and somehow still overworked, put Eri to bed, started to head out to the car and was immediately ambushed by Recovery Girl, who wanted to make sure his quirk was working properly after whatever Midoriya had done, which involved fielding attacks from his students.  

After that, Recovery Girl had given him a kiss on the forehead.  He’d just enough time to hear her say something about how she hoped he would ‘adopt a respectable sleep schedule after all this’ before he passed out.

More than a little cross and exasperated with himself, he left the first thing the next morning.  After driving off Midoriya's friends, who wanted to come with him.

Getting out past the surveillance that the commission had put into place and the reporters that had parked all around UA was a joke.  Getting Hizashi to lend him his car was harder.  

The drive was boring.  

When he was almost there, he saw some suspicious marks near the side of the road, and stopped to look down.  It was very difficult to see, but he suspected that he had found the final resting place of Vlad’s car.  Clever of Yagi.  Or Midoriya.  Either of them could have thought of this expedient, if imperfect, method.  The ruts the car had left as it went over the edge were unfortunate.  Viewing the site from above might also reveal what had happened, and Aizawa had little doubt that Hawks and other flying heroes would be casing the area.  

Aizawa got back into the car.  

The campsite looked much the same as it had during the summer, except for the loss of leaves on the part of many of the trees.  The buildings that had been damaged in the attack had been repaired.  There were leaves caught in drifts in the lees of some of the buildings, and others were swept across the parking lot by the wind.  

Aizawa squinted, then glared.  There was a great deal more red left in those leaves than his drive so far would have led him to expect.

Knowing that turning back would be counterproductive, Aizawa parked and got out of the car.

Aizawa and Hawks stared at each other from across the parking lot.  Red feathers danced in the wind, half-hidden by long-browned fallen leaves.

“I don’t know how he got one of my feathers,” said Hawks, “but I’m guessing it isn’t Dabi you’ve come to visit.”

“Why would I be visiting Dabi?” asked Aizawa.  “That’s illogical.”

“I know, that’s why I said--”

“Why would Dabi even be here in the first place?”

“I gave him one of my feathers,” started Hawks.

“Why would you give one of your feathers to a villain?” asked Aizawa.  

"To track him," said Hawks.  

"Yes, but why would you give Dabi, a known villain, a feather to track him when you could simply take him into custody?"

"I've been assigned to track him back to the others--"

"Assigned? How illogical, but I shouldn't expect anything better from the Commission.  To begin with, why would Dabi, knowing you can track your feathers, take one?  That's even more illogical than You giving one to him in the first place.”

"He didn't know I--"

"If he didn't know you'd be here, how could he possibly be meeting you?"

Hawks and Aizawa stared at each other.  Aizawa could see the glaze of confusion in Hawk's eyes.  

Weaponized confusion like this was more Nemuri's thing, and she usually only used it to make enemies hesitate for long enough to take them out, which Aizawa couldn't do to Hawks.  Not unless he wanted to be a fugitive, too.  Was it too much to hope that Hawks would get confused and leave?

"Are you here to meet up with Midoriya or not?"

It was too much to hope.  

"I'm here to pick up something of the school's.  The summer training camp didn't end as planned.  Why are you here?”

“I just told you.”

“No, you asked me if I was meeting Dabi.”

Hawks opened his mouth, shut it, and furrowed his eyebrows.  “Huh.  You’re right.  I did.  You know, you’ve really screwed up my attempt at being dramatic.”

“How embarrassing for you.”  

This was not the way Aizawa wanted his first post-dream-coma conversation with Hawks to go, given what Midoriya had suspected about his treatment, but he didn’t have the luxury of being nice when his student’s welfare was on the line.  

“You’re really mean, you know that?”

He did.  “Is there a point to this, Hawks?”

Hawks grinned.  “Nope!  Just looking for Dabi, covering all my bases.  Hope you find that thing you’re looking for.”

Hawks took off vertically, scattering leaves in all directions and leaving Aizawa staring at the sky in disbelief.  

While not rivaling yesterday in terms of sheer stupidity, this was inching up his list of ‘days that sucked.’  It was nowhere near the top, of course, he was an adult with a violent and often fatal job, and before that he’d been a child training to do a violent and often fatal job.  Bad days came with the job description.  He had enough bad days that the dates alone would fill an entire phone book.

It didn’t stop today from sucking.  Nor did it stop the creeping feeling that he would be experiencing many more particularly bad days in the near future.  

He knocked on the door.  Tsuchikawa, Pixie-bob opened it.  

“I’ll take you to him,” she said.  

.

The campsite infirmary had been built with training both hero students and pros in mind.  The key word here was training.  The infirmary was equipped for relatively minor issues and emergency first aid, not surgery, not Yagi's ongoing health problems, and definitely not whatever was going on with Midoriya.  

Whether even an entire, fully-equipped hospital could figure out what was going on with Midoriya, much less treat it, was a different question.  

Regardless, when Aizawa was let into the infirmary, Midoriya was awake and sitting up in one of the beds, hands flying animatedly as he spoke to Kota.  Yagi was in the next bed over, awake but not participating.  The rest of the Wild Wild Pussycats were there, watching the interaction with slightly guarded expressions.

"Aizawa-sensei!  You're here!"

"Young Aizawa," said Yagi, warmly, "I wasn't sure you'd be able to come.  Is everything well?"

Aizawa felt his eye twitch.  Objectively, logically, there was nothing terribly objectionable about the scene in front of him.  Midoriya and Yagi had clearly been trying to update their disguises since the broadly televised fight with Hawks.  This was not only advisable and commendable, but necessary.  

All the same, Aizawa didn't see why they had to update their disguises like that.

"Wow," said Kota, "you all look like you could be related."

Midoriya blushed all the way to the roots of his straightened and black-dyed hair.  Yagi, evidently seeing something in Aizawa's expression, removed the long black wig he had been wearing.

"We're just doing it to mess with Dabi," said Midoriya.  

"Why is everyone obsessed with that pyromaniac today?"

"Everyone?  Is Todoroki doing okay?  Maybe I shouldn't have said anything…"

"He's fine," said Aizawa, resolving to look more closely at whatever Todoroki was doing to cope with Midoriya's revelation.  

(Or conspiracy theory revenge for all the 'All Might's secret lovechild' nonsense.  Honestly, now that he was awake and seeing things in the cold light of day, Aizawa was holding out hope for that, even though Midoriya didn't seem like a particularly vengeful child - Aizawa’s momentary fear for Bakugo yesterday aside.)

.

Shouto sneezed.  "Someone is talking about me," he announced.

"Come on, that's an old wife's tale," said Kaminari.

"Fuyumi is neither old nor a wife."

The clicking of keyboards came to a stop.

"Um, Todoroki--"

The door slammed open and Uraraka, Tokoyami, and Dark Shadow slid in.  Uraraka whooped loudly, Dark Shadow cackling uproariously behind her.  She hoisted a telescopic camera in the air.

"We've got aerial photos of all those jerks spying on us!  Do your magic, Kaminari!"

Shouto returned to his own project, an expose on how the commission purposefully put pressure on heroes and families of heroes to participate in eugenics projects, using his own family as an example. 

.

"So," said Aizawa.  "After everything that happened yesterday, I think I need an explanation."

Yagi started to sit up, and was pressed down firmly by Chatora.  

“O-oh,” said Midoriya, eyes darting around the room as his hands fiddled with his hair, “yeah.  I mean… I guess I owe you that, after everything…  It was pretty confusing in there, wasn’t it, sense?”

"We can leave," said Sosaki, beckoning Kota over.

"No, no," said Midoriya.  "There's- There's something I need to ask you- well, Shiretoko-san- later, and it'll make more sense if you hear everything."

Shiretoko frowned.  “Something you need to ask me? ”

“Mhm,” said Midoriya, nodding.  “It isn’t- It isn’t a bad thing, I think.”  He pushed his hair out of his face.  

A fact that was occasionally taken advantage of by underground and undercover heroes was that a major change in hairstyle tended to distract from other small changes to a person’s appearance.  In Midoriya’s case, small changes included an expansion of the pattern of freckles spread across his cheekbones.  It wasn’t, quite, like what his quirk’s freckles had looked like, but it was much closer than it had been.  

“It- This might take a while,” said Midoriya.  

“I’ll get a chair,” said Tsuchikawa.  She didn’t move.  

Sosaki frowned at her.  “Ryuko, you aren’t using Earth Flow, are you?”

“Maybe,” said Tsuchikawa, not meeting Sosaki’s eyes.  

“Oh!” said Midoriya, eyes sparkling.  “Your quirk!  What does it feel like when-?”

“Midoriya,” said Aizawa.  

“Kota, how about you and I go.  You can have my chair, Aizawa-san.”

“But, auntie-”

“Remember that discussion we had about secrets?” asked Sosaki, as she led Kota out.  The door clicked closed behind them.

“So,” said Chatora.  “You had an explanation for everything that happened yesterday?”

“Oh.  R-right.  Right.  Um.”  He fidgeted.  “I’m not sure where to begin,” he said, bowing his head.  

Aizawa sighed, surveying Midoriya’s posture.  He might have been putting up a brave face - mostly for Kota, right now, if Aizawa didn’t miss his guess - but he wasn’t well, something that was becoming progressively more obvious.  

“Think back to our class on after action reports,” said Aizawa.  

Midoriya looked up at him, biting his lip.  “Alright,” he said.  He glanced at the Pussycats.  “We already told you a bit of what happened yesterday, and why.”

“Your quirk has an aspect that interacts poorly with other quirks, yes,” said Shiretoko.  

“And you were there for that, Aizawa-sensei.  The part you don’t know about…”  He looked at Yagi, who nodded encouragingly.  “All for One had a brother.”

“Is that someone we have to worry about?” asked Tsuchikawa.  

“Not in the way you’re thinking about,” said Midoriya.  “He’s dead.  But his quirk had some similarities to All for One.  It was sort of, um, an inverse of his quirk.  All for One can give and take quirks forcefully, but his brother’s quirk, One for All, is a quirk that lets its users to pass it on, and any other quirks they have, but only willingly.”

Aizawa saw the moment when the Pussycats put this together.  So, evidently, did Yagi.  

“I was the eighth holder of One for All,” he said.  He coughed a little, speckling a tissue with blood.

“And I’m number Nine,” said Midoriya.  “This is where the explanation gets into some really theoretical quirk mechanics.”

“Well,” said Shiretoko, “after learning about a quirk that can steal quirks and a quirk that can be given away, it can’t get too much weirder, right?”  The corner of her mouth wavered, showing the lie of her facade.  

Midoriya nodded.  “If you say so.  The thing is, quirks have two parts.  A physical, genetic part,” -he waved one hand- “and a mental, spiritual part.”  He shook the other hand.  “If you’re missing either part, the quirk doesn’t work properly.  They need to be together.”  He clasped his hands together.  “All for One and One for All have to interact with both parts in order to work.  All for One creates a mental connection with his victims in order to steal the mental part--”

Shiretoko flinched.  Midoriya noticed and cringed.

“Sorry,” he said.

“No, I’m fine, keep going.”

Midoriya looked troubled, but continued.  “And, um.  All for One - the quirk - uses a destructive copy mechanism to ‘transfer’ the physical part.  It’s kind of like what happens on a computer when you move a file.  It actually copies itself, then deletes what was in the original location.  Meanwhile, One for All works a bit more slowly and the physical part reproduces itself in a new user, sort of like a retrovirus, while the mental parts are shared between users.  But the mental part of quirks is, well, it’s mental!”  

Yagi mumbled something about not comparing their legacy to viruses.  Midoriya didn’t seem to hear him.  

“Once you’ve established a connection between the mental parts of quirks, it isn’t a big jump to expand that connection.  That’s why Toshinori was affected by the dreamscape quirk, too.  The problem is, All for One can do that, too.”

Shiretoko hissed through her teeth and her hands clenched in the fabric of her pants.  “You’re not saying he’s in my head.”

“No!” denied Izuku, quickly.  “Even if that is something he can do, it shouldn’t matter to you anymore.  I’m getting to that.  Um.  Where was I?  Right.  All for One and One for All have had a lot of interactions.  So, there’s a mental bridge there, too, but it usually isn’t strong enough to do anything.”

“But the dream quirk changed that, didn’t it?” asked Shiretoko.  

“Well, yeah, that, and, um.  Before One for All, I didn’t have a quirk, but I wasn’t naturally quirkless.”

“I thought the black tentacles were your original quirk, actually,” said Tsuchikawa, tilting her head.  

“Oh, no.  I mean, if I were you, I’d think that, too, but no.  Blackwhip belongs to Five.  The fifth user.  Lariat.  Banjo Daigoro.  Sorry, everyone has a lot of names.

“But the bridge is the real reason I was so… unhappy about Suzuki-san not telling me how to get everyone out of the dreamscape.”  Midoriya fidgeted, then looked up at the Pussycats.  “We wanted to minimize the time All for One had to get into our heads.  It didn’t do any good.  Suzuki-san was too stubborn, the commission actually attacked me, and All for One got in anyway.  But a mental connection like that is a two-way street, and that’s where you come in, Aizawa-sensei.”  He turned his big, apologetic eyes on Aizawa.  “Sorry, I don’t actually know everything that happened while we were fighting him.”

Aizawa sighed and took pity on Midoriya.  “I infiltrated All for One’s mental landscape and retrieved the mental components of two quirks.”

“Wow,” said Tsuchikawa, “that’s actually too concise.”

“It’s what happened,” said Aizawa.  What did they want, a play-by-play?  

“You actually brought back three quirks,” said Izuku.  “But, um.  One for All can’t be received by someone who isn’t compatible, so it’s always looking at people’s genetics and stuff.  Combined with what was left of my original quirk, past interactions with All for One, and all that stuff, I have those three quirks.  Sort of.  They aren’t entirely, um.  Plugged in yet.  So to speak.”

“You have Search, don’t you?” asked Shiretoko, quietly.  

“Ye-yes.  Yes, Search was one of the quirks.”

Aizawa nodded when Shiretoko looked at him for confirmation.  

“So, what, you’re asking permission to use it?”

“No,” said Midoriya.  “I’m asking for permission to give it back to you.  The other quirk that was brought back was a copy of All for One.”

Aizawa had been expecting that revelation, but the way the air itself seemed to freeze was still unnerving.

“A copy?”

Midoriya twisted the edge of the blanket in his hands.  Aizawa actually thought he heard a string snap. 

“Yes,” said Midoriya.  “A copy.  Not- Not a perfect copy, it--”  He took a deep breath.  “The third quirk was my original one.  Its name is Notebook, and it can make an imperfect, basic copy of a quirk, as long as the person who has the quirk is willing.”

Notebook.  Of course it was called Notebook.  Why did Aizawa want to put his head through the wall on learning that?  Oh, right, because he’d actually seen Midoriya’s already terrifying physical notebooks.  

“That’s very similar to All for One and One for All,” said Chatora, carefully.

“Quirks of relatives often are,” said Midoriya, clearly bracing himself. 

“Relatives?”

“What do you think One for All is looking for, in terms of genetic compatibility?” asked Yagi, drawing attention back to himself.  “We’re all related to some degree.  Much to our displeasure.”

Tsuchikawa barked out a quick laugh, then covered her mouth with both hands.  

“I understand if you don’t want me to,” said Midoriya earnestly, once again focused on Shiretoko.  “I get that you wouldn’t want to go through that again, that copy hasn’t been used before, and I have no practice in it--”

“That isn’t really a negative thing, Midoriya,” said Aizawa.  

“-- but if it were me, I’d want my quirk back.  I did want my quirk back, so--”

Shiretoko held up a hand.  “I need to know what you mean by willing, first.”

“In terms of Notebook?”

“In terms of Notebook.”

“Um, well.  It works through mental connection, too, though it’s temporary, and, um, also has a physical component, although for me it doesn’t require direct contact.  I still need to be in-person.”  He rubbed at some of the freckles on his hand.  “Basically, unlike the other two, it needs a way in, mentally.  Um.  The person whose quirk it’s recording needs to explain their quirk.  The better the explanation, and the more they think about it, the better the connection, the better Notebook can see how the quirk should work.  Then, Notebook makes a sort of… fake version of the mental component.  A replica, but it’s stripped down.  It doesn't have the whole, um, quirk ghost , so it can’t be used the same as the original right away.  The Notebook version is like how the original was when it first manifested.  Plus, it takes a while to totally integrate new quirks, and it’ll only make one copy.”  Midoriya frowned.  “And I think that the actual explanation part of the explanation is also important.  It’s like when you think about talking, you’re actually subvocalizing?  Or when you imagine doing something, your brain does some of the same actions?  It’s the same with your quirk.  It’s like giving a demonstration.  I think.”

“You think,” repeated Shiretoko, dryly.

“He’s had his quirk back for less than a day,” said Yagi.  “That doesn’t lend itself well to figuring out all the bits and bobs.”

Chatora made a considering sound.  “How long did you have it before it was taken from you?” 

“I don’t know.  Not long.  I was really little.”

“So, the proper question is, how do you know so much about it?”

“Well,” said Midoriya, a glint of frustration in his eyes, “it isn’t like All for One didn’t use it, and what good is a weird mental landscape where you can talk with aspects of yourself if you don’t use it?”

Chatora raised his hands.  “It had to be asked.”

“Alright,” said Shiretoko.

Midoriya perked up.  “Really?”

Shiretoko nodded.  “Like you said, I want my quirk back.  But if I can make a suggestion?”

Midoriya nodded eagerly.  

“Work out those ‘bits and bobs’ before you leave here.”

“Wait,” said Midoriya, eyes wide, “do you mean--”

“We really have to clear it with Shino, but we did establish this place as a training retreat, and where you’re going, a quirk you don’t understand is a liability.”

Midoriya nodded vigorously.  “Y-yes!  Thank you for the opportunity!”

“I have a few things to pass on, too,” said Aizawa.  Like emergency contacts, access to funds.  But first…  “For example, what happened to your actual notebooks.”

.

Inko wasn’t going to answer, Hisashi decided, finally.  Either she was busy, or away from her phone.  Or her phone had been taken from her.  If those heroes had laid one hand on his beautiful wife…

Later.  Revenge was for later.  For now, he’d settle himself, lean back into his prison chair as far as he could, and then call the doctor for updates on the situation.  If he didn’t answer, his other contacts would soon be getting calls.  Increasingly irate and potentially lethal calls.  He had a lovely quirk that allowed one to electrocute others through a phone call.  

He’d lost a lot over the past two days, not the least of which were those quirks.  His ability to contact his wife, for example.  His relative anonymity with respect to his son.  But, oh, the thought of Izuku with All for One, One for All, and Replica was downright exciting, and along with the losses he had gained something, too.  

Something that would allow him to regain all his most important things.  

He doubted it would be smooth sailing from here on in.  Even his best-laid plans had their rough spots.  But Hisashi had no doubt.  He would be victorious, in the end.  He always was.

.

You didn’t tell them everything.

The thought, one that wasn’t entirely his, brushed over the back of Izuku’s mind, as he tried to nap.  He had told them almost everything.  Just… not how he suspected All for One, One for All, and Notebook would interact.  How One for All’s compatibility mechanism more or less negated the need to ‘pull in’ real DNA samples, and how it meant that there was no risk of giving someone a quirk that their body couldn’t handle.  How having All for One meant that he could keep copying the same quirk over and over again, as long as he could offload the copies somewhere.  How he might even be able to copy the copies.  How the ‘stockpile’ portion of One for All meant that Notebook’s ‘weak’ archived quirks were unlikely to stay weak…

It was all speculation, anyway.  His version of All for One wasn’t even fully integrated, yet.

He laid back on the bed, pressing himself into the pillows.  He had a quirk.  His own quirk.  He had Toshinori - All Might! - with him.  His friends, though distant, were supporting him.  Even if he couldn’t be a hero in name, he could still be a hero in fact.  

He’d lost a lot, sure.  But he’d kept the most important things.  

There were rough seas ahead of them, though.  Without the path of the hero course ahead of him, Izuku had to say he felt adrift.  Unmoored.  And that vault door, left ajar… 

There was a storm coming, and Izuku had no idea how he’d weather it.  

This was only the beginning.