Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If Shinsou Hitoshi was being honest, he’d say that he was almost suspicious of how well his life was going at the moment. 

Getting far into the UA Sports Festival had been a part of the plan, and of course winning it had been the goal, but full-on getting first place? Hitoshi had not expected that. Certainly not that it was a downside, because it was kind of awesome. Sure, he didn’t like how many people knew about his quirk, but he was going to go underground. No one should know about his identity when he did that, and it wasn’t like his hair was particularly rare. It was distinctive, but it wasn’t something that would give away his quirk and entire identity away to people ten years down the line, and he already planned to get some kind of face covering. A mask that could change how his voice sounded would be his hope, but he knew his quirk didn’t work through speakers or microphones so there’d need to be a workaround for that. 

Being able to even think about what his future hero costume would be was very, very nice. Because he knew he was going to be a hero, now. Now it wasn’t “if I win the Sports Festival,” or, “if I get the attention of the hero course teachers.” No, now it was, “when will I be transferred?” Because it was set in stone that he would. 1-A’s homeroom teacher Aizawa Shouta—who was freaking Eraserhead by the way—had approached him after the medal ceremony, and he had told Hitoshi that if he completed training and passed something to test his abilities then he could join the class by next semester. (And if his foster mom approved it, but he knew she would with much enthusiasm.) There were two spots open, one from someone that had been expelled on the first day, and some pervert who had finally crossed the line by trying to pull some shitty prank on the girls regarding some cheerleading uniforms. He had been stopped, but only barely, so Hitoshi had heard through the rumor mill. Point was, there were more than enough spots open for him to fill, and he was on his way to doing just that.

The fact that he had won first place earned him more rep than if he had just made it to the third round, Aizawa-sensei had told him. And because of that, he was going to be able to participate in internships. Of course, outside heroes couldn’t send in requests since he wasn’t a hero student yet and needed to play a bit of catch-up, but he could choose from a list of approved heroes/hero agencies. Or, Aizawa-sensei had told him with an unfairly bored expression, he could intern with him. With Eraserhead. 

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Hitoshi was still reeling from that, honestly. And from the conversation he had had after that. Because, after arranging a meeting with Aizawa-sensei, the principal, and his guardian to discuss some of his schedule changes, which would include one-on-one training with Aizawa-sensei, again what the fuck, he was pulled aside by someone else. Hitoshi had been walking down the hall in a sort of daze when someone had laid a hand on his shoulder, jarring him out of his head. When he turned to face whoever had gotten his attention, he saw Todoroki Shouto.

Earlier in the day, he had fought the hero course student and won. He had only had one fight before that, and it had been with some condescending blonde 1-B student. That was probably the reason he had gotten so far, actually. His first opponent was clearly not friendly with 1-A, which meant he wasn’t going to be telling them how to avoid his quirk. Then came Todoroki, who also didn’t seem like the sociable type, and had likely not spoken to his classmates about what exactly had happened. He hadn’t used his quirk on Iida. Hitoshi could only ensnare someone if they responded, and he actually needed time to do that. Iida would not have given him that time. Instead, he had become a human speed bump, dropping to the ground right as Iida revved up and dashed over. It had been the most hilarious and ridiculous way to defeat the other student, and Hitoshi still got giggles when he thought about it. Well, not at the time, because his ribs had been broken, but now that he wasn’t hurting with every breath he could laugh about it. And Bakugou… yeah Bakugou was smart, but he was also very volatile. Hitoshi had needed to weed a little more to get a reaction, but he had gotten it.

The biggest scare of the day had been during his first fight, when he was sure Present Mic was about to explain his quirk and ruin his chances of getting any further, but he had been cut off by a lot of muffled noises and rustling sounds. If he didn’t know better, Hitoshi would say Aizawa-sensei (Eraserhead!) had slapped a casted hand over Mic-sensei’s mouth. And Hitoshi clearly didn’t know better, because that was so funny and therefore it had to have been what happened. Hitoshi was going to believe that regardless of what actually may have just because of the humor factor alone. 

But, all of the other stuff aside, Todoroki was staring him down and clearly meaning for him to follow, so he did. He trailed after the other student to some dark hallway and vaguely wondered if he was about to be beaten up. He could run in the other direction, but if Todoroki was really about to fight him, then that wouldn’t fly. He couldn’t use his quirk; the other student wouldn’t fall for the same trick again, and he could just freeze Hitoshi in place if he tried anything. Earlier, Hitoshi had made some… rude comments, which was kind of par for the course with his quirk, but Todoroki may have taken special offense to something he had said. To be fair, he had made some comments about Endeavor. Hitoshi had shouted about how shitty of a hero Endeavor was, how he liked to flame-roast petty criminals, and was Todoroki going to give every villain he met frostbite too? Was he going to be as horrible as Endeavor, even with the opposite quirk? He had spouted those, among other provocative questions almost constantly throughout the fight. Honestly most of them were lost in the heat of the battle; he had just been running his mouth at that point. Then he had kind of gotten lost in his own inferiority complex, (yeah, he kind of knew about that) and shouted about Todoroki being blessed and it being unfair and all of that shit that was true but also very self-pitying. He cringed thinking about it.

In that moment, he had resigned himself to being beaten up. He wasn’t exactly going to just let it happen of course, but being realistic, he was not gonna beat the legacy kid and hero student. Hitoshi had been already bracing himself when he found them standing face to face, across from each other in the strangely shadowed shoot-off hallway. But nothing even remotely violent happened. Todoroki had asked him some weird question about being Aizawa-sensei’s “love child” (what), to which Hitoshi had responded with incredulity and firm denial, then told him his tragic backstory.

“You beat me,” Todoroki had said, interrupting Hitoshi’s baffled rebuttal, before destroying whatever miniscule amount of respect he had for Endeavor. Quirk marriages, spousal and parental abuse, neglect, and Hitoshi could not imagine Todoroki-san would want to have child after child with Endeavor by Todoroki’s conception, so he was fairly sure there was rape somewhere in there too. All-in-all, absolutely horrifying.

At the moment Todoroki had told him about his past, he had also revealed why he didn’t use his fire. He thought it was his father’s, somehow. Hitoshi wasn’t exactly great at the whole healthy mental health thing, but he did not think that suppressing a part of oneself out of rebellion was exactly great. He also wasn’t good at emotional conversations, but who else was going to help Todoroki? Hitoshi still didn’t quite understand why he of all people had been given all of that information, but he wasn’t going to sit there and let that shit keep happening. And, even if Hitoshi would never say it aloud, he did want to be a hero– he couldn’t just leave someone high and dry when he had the means to help. So he sucked it up, and did his best.

“ His fire? Your quirk doesn’t belong to him, and neither do you. What you’re doing right now is letting him define and control your life every waking moment by refusing to use a part of yourself that happens to resemble his. It’s your quirk, not his.” At the moment he had cringed at how corny that had sounded, but it had clearly meant something to Todoroki. He had stopped, and seemed confused, before Hitoshi reiterated his point. “One plus one is two. Even if two is made from the ones, it’s a different number, right? When you think about two, you don’t think of it as two ones. You are more than the sum of your parts, and all that. He’s him, you’re you. Be your own person. Don’t succeed to spite him, succeed despite him. ”

That last bit had sounded quite good, Hitpshi thought. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wasn’t good with words usually, but luck had blessed him for a moment because, if he wasn’t fooling himself, that had sounded somewhat eloquent. He had also been drawing from his own experiences with that spite part. It had just sounded nice, and something Todoroki needed to hear, but it was also something Hitoshi had needed to accept at some point too. Running on spite was great, it made for great fuel, but he had felt unimaginably freer the moment he decided that he was going to be a hero, fuck them, rather than, fuck them, he was gonna be a hero. It didn’t sound like much of a difference, sure, but there was one. In one version, he wanted to be a hero to prove them wrong. In the other,  he was doing this for him no matter what they said. Wanting to prove everyone wrong wasn’t a bad thing on its own, and it certainly wasn’t not a part of his motivation still, but having that be the core of it was allowing those assholes to control his drive and his dream. It was giving them power that they didn’t deserve to have over him, and he much preferred the version of his life where he got to forget them altogether. The path he was on now resembled that much closer than the other one had. 

Todoroki had been more than stunned, if the gobsmacked look on his face was any evidence. After a second and without a word, he brought up his left hand and let a flame appear on his palm. He stared at it, the ball of fire uneven and sometimes growing and shrinking, shaky and unstable. Then he pulled the hand into a fist, snuffing it out, before giving Hitoshi the most intense look he’d ever been given. And Hitoshi had fought Bakugou earlier. After that day, Todoroki had kind of drifted towards him during lunch breaks, and Hitoshi suddenly found himself with the guy’s number. He had gone into UA with the intention of fighting tooth and nail to get into the hero course and avoiding the hero brats once he got in, making no friends and staying focused on his goal. Becoming friends with a legacy kid of all people had not been on the agenda. Yet, he found himself enjoying Todoroki’s company. The teen was definitely awkward, more than even Hitoshi, but he was funnier than he seemed to realize. He had this blunt way of saying whatever came to his mind without any context that had made Hitoshi choke on his food in laughter more than once.

Likely since their first real conversation had been so heavy, it seemed like Todoroki was comfortable enough to share personal details with Hitoshi that he never would otherwise, and that made Hitoshi feel much more appreciated than he wanted to admit. Because of this, he learned that Todoroki had visited his mom for the first time recently (good for him), he was worried about his classmate since his brother had been attacked by the Hero Killer (not as good for him), and that he had no clue who to pick for his internship. 

Even though Todoroki hadn’t even gotten to the semi-finals, he had one of the highest amounts of heroes vying for him to take their internship. As shitty as it was, Todoroki had admitted, minus the swearing, that it was likely mostly due to his father. While his performance, regardless of podium placing, had been impressive enough to warrant a fair amount of attention on its own, what everyone really wanted was a piece of Endeavor’s son. Todoroki mentioned that he wanted to get a hold of his fire, and was considering taking his father’s internship with that goal in mind. 

“He is the number two hero for a reason,” Todoroki had said while poking at his food with his fork and avoiding looking at Hitoshi, clearly not happy about the idea but wanting to choose the most effective and “logical” option, regardless of his personal feelings about it. Hitoshi had shot that down real quick. He pointed out that working on his fire with the guy who had been the main source of the trauma surrounding that fire was Not A Good Idea. Plus, Todoroki was also more likely to be resistant to his teaching because of that past, no matter how good a teacher or fire user Endeavor was. Hitoshi kind of doubted that the man was a good teacher anyway, because what good teacher would start teaching a kid combat and intense quirk usage at what, four? Five? Either way, Todoroki’s attempt to be impartial and logical was nice and all, but Hitoshi strongly encouraged him to choose someone, anyone, else. Todoroki had accepted Hitoshi’s arguments with a relieved slump of the shoulders, clearly reassured that not choosing his father wouldn’t be an unfairly biased decision. He did seem put out, saying that he was supposed to be not letting his father control what he did anymore, but Hitoshi talked him out of that line of thought too. There was a difference between letting someone have power over you and not choosing the worst option for you because it wouldn’t work for you personally, of course.

But that left the hero student with a new issue. Who else to intern with, if not Endeavor? Todoroki showed Hitoshi his list, and putting aside how goddamn thick that packet was, they had no clue who was picking him because of his father or because of him. What they needed was someone who could help Todoroki learn to control and utilize his fire, and who weren’t in it for the fame of having the number two hero’s son by their side for a week. 

Choosing Aizawa-sensei for Hitoshi’s internship was kind of a given, so he hadn’t needed to make this type of decision. He was left kind of dumbfounded about what to do about it. They only had a few days to make it, and it was kind of an important one. Todoroki didn’t know many heroes personally; he had apparently never been allowed to mingle much without his father breathing over his shoulder, so he couldn’t quite judge why each hero had sent in their application regardless as to if he’d brushed shoulders with them or not.

Then, during the beginning of lunch on the last day before internship decisions were due, Hitoshi had an idea. A dumb, stupid idea, not quite reckless but risky for his placement in the hero course if he played it wrong. It took him a minute to decide its validity, then said fuck it, he wanted to be a hero. Helping his first actual friend in a long while took priority, and he had always been good at bullshitting. So, he abruptly told Todoroki to get some food in and get moving. He sped off as soon as Todoroki was close to done, and it wasn’t long before they were at the teacher’s lounge. Todoroki was giving him a strange look as he knocked on the door, but Hitoshi paid it no mind. 

Midnight-sensei opened the door, her signature smirk landing on Hitoshi with a questioning tilt to her brow. “Now what do we have here? Shouldn’t you two be at lunch?”

“We need to talk to Aizawa-sensei,” Hitoshi said blankly, still incredibly aware of Todoroki’s palpable confusion. Midnight-sensei hummed in response before craning her neck to alert Aizawa-sensei.

“Eraser! Two of your hellions wanna talk with you!” she called, amusement and teasing evident in her tone. They received an acknowledging grunt in response, and a moment later Aizawa-sensei was brushing past his fellow teacher to step out into the hall.

The door shut behind him, and after a quick glance around the hallway—empty. The students were all eating lunch somewhere at this point in the lunch period—Aizawa-sensei placed his focus on Hitoshi and Todoroki. He didn’t speak, just raised an eyebrow as an invitation to explain why he was being bothered during his lunch break.

“Todoroki’s coming with me to intern under you,” Hitoshi stated. He was careful not to phrase it as a question, not because of his past exactly—though that was why he had practice with it—but because he needed to be clear. This was not a question, nor a beg for permission. He was sure in doing this, and he knew Aizawa-sensei would be able to see how serious he was about it if Hitoshi was firm.

“And what makes you think I’d agree or allow that?” Aizawa-sensei responded calmly. He almost seemed amused, at least as amused as someone like Aizawa-sensei could conceivably seem.

Glancing to Todoroki, Hitoshi saw the slight rise of uneasy panic in his eyes. He probably thought Hitoshi was about to spill his secret or something. Hitoshi just barely shook his head. No, now was not the time to tell Aizawa-sensei about any of Todoroki’s past. Not only would telling someone about it without Todoroki’s express permission betray the trust he and Hitoshi had built up, it was also dubious as to what could be done. Teachers had never been helpful to Hitoshi in the past, and even if he knew Aizawa-sensei was quite different from any teacher he’d ever met before, this was more than just if Aizawa-sensei would want to help. Endeavor was the number two hero, Hitoshi was under no delusion that getting Todoroki some real help would be easy. There’d need to be evidence and planning involved, and now was way too soon and they were way too unprepared.

So, Hitoshi turned back to Aizawa-sensei and stood his ground. He grinned, the grit of his teeth born out of tenseness and fashioned to boost his drive and mask his nerves. “Because he needs help learning how to use his fire. Many of his internships were only sent because of his father, and probably wouldn’t be all that useful. Plus, the guy himself is an asshole,” Hitoshi said, speaking as casually as he could and choosing his words carefully. He did truly think now was not the right time to tell, but it was never too early to plant seeds. If he just hinted, then Aizawa-sensei would get it and want to see for himself. Therefore ensuring that Todoroki would be allowed to intern with him. “He wouldn’t know how to interact with, let alone teach kids if it walked up and punched him.”

Behind him, Hitoshi heard Todoroki huff. He felt his challenging smile tilt into something slightly more genuine, proud of making the boy laugh. Aizawa-sensei, on the other hand, didn’t laugh. But he did get that look in his eye, the one Hitoshi just knew was the protective, I’m-going-to-dad-the-hell-out-of-this one. Hitoshi himself hadn’t seen it yet, not in full, but he had caught a glimpse of it in the mornings when the press was being overbearing at the front gates. The man would step in the way of the more shy or uncomfortable students and distract the reporters with his general rumpled look and deadpan bluntness. He was a teacher and hero, after all. He wouldn’t have become either one (especially not an underground hero) if he didn’t want to help and protect people at all. It probably helped that Todoroki probably looked very nervous, if you knew how to tell. And again, Aizawa-sensei was an underground hero. He of all people should be able to read a 15 year old.

Crossing his arms and burying his chin into his captured weapon, Aizawa-sensei sighed. Hitoshi’s grimace-smile fully melted into a triumphant smirk. “Be there on time and with your costume cases just like everyone else. We’ll still need to see them off.”

Hitoshi glanced over at Todoroki to share his mini-celebration, but found the other’s expression to be more serious than expected. He looked contemplative, and like he was considering adding something of his own. After a moment, his resolve seemed to harden and his gaze swept up to meet Aizawa-sensei’s. Hitoshi found himself looking back and forth between them, trying to figure out what exactly was about to happen.

“Iida’s recent actions have been concerning,” Todoroki said bluntly and yet also in that roundabout way of saying he was worried without directly saying it. Though, his eyes gave him away, full with something distinctly worried, warming his usual air of chill. “He’s going to intern with Manual, isn’t he? That’s in Hosu.”

The aura of nonchalance around Aizawa-sensei faded slightly. “Yes, he is. The police largely believe Stain has moved by now, and Iida gave a sufficient enough reason to accept Manual’s offer.” Hitoshi figured there was something about student confidentiality that wouldn’t allow Aizawa-sensei to share that reason, but doubted that the teacher would share it if he were allowed to by the rules anyway. The words were more dismissive than Hitoshi would have hoped, but the man was also not one to wear his emotions plainly. Something told him he didn’t quite agree with the sufficiency of Iida’s reason to go to Hosu.

 Todoroki just frowned in response, the heat in his eyes dimming slightly. 

They got their internships sorted after that, and went back to lunch. Todoroki was quiet, even more so than usual, but Hitoshi understood. An uneasy feeling followed Iida’s situation. Even Hitoshi, who wasn’t in class 1-A and didn’t interact with Iida almost at all, could tell. The weekend was as normal, even with his Mom’s insufferable general attitude about him going to his internship. She was both teasing and worried at the same time. Mom clearly wanted to support him, and did, but she and him hadn’t been separated for a full week since he was placed in her care three years ago. Honestly, he was a little nervous about it, but his nerves had more to do with the internship itself. Mom’s was likely more about his safety. He reassured her best he could, and gave her an extra tight hug the day he went out to meet Aizawa-sensei and Todoroki at the train station. It was a little weird, coming along with a class he wasn’t exactly a part of yet, but Todoroki amped his “don’t come near me” vibes up to eleven and stuck to Hitoshi’s side like glue. The rest of class, with obvious exceptions, had clearly wanted to come over and talk to him, but they saw Todoroki’s pointedly unapproachable aura and reluctantly backed off. Hitoshi was grateful for that; while he knew he’d need to talk to and actually join this class eventually, he did not want them hounding him at the moment. 

Hitoshi had been sure that Aizawa-sensei had implied they’d head back and go wherever they’d be staying for the week after seeing 1-A off, but instead of that happening, they got onto a train as well. Aizawa-sensei was very much Musutafu based, he had to be considering the fact that he was a teacher at UA, but the train he stepped onto was one to…

Hosu.

The realization hit Hitoshi quick and heavy, like a ton of bricks. So that's what we’re doing? He thought amusedly, exchanging a look with Todoroki. He raises his eyebrows with a slight head tilt towards Aizawa. Todoroki seemed to have come to the same conclusion as him, because his eyebrows are no longer furrowed, and the worried tilt to his lips has turned into a slight upwards curve. It seemed like Aizawa was more worried about Iida than he had let on before. On one hand, that was very nice, but on the other… Even though Hitoshi and Iida weren’t even remotely friends, he could still tell from that look in the boy's eyes before that something was not settled right, and the fact that the teacher had likely seen the same was both relieving and unsettling. Relieving, because a trusted authority figure was going to be taking care of it, but unsettling because it confirmed that it was something to be worried about. Hitoshi was considerably glad that they were seemingly going to be keeping an eye on him. As it was, it seemed that he, Todoroki, and Aizawa-sensei all agreed– Iida seemed very likely like he was on his way to do something incredibly stupid.

Blood dripped off his knife, but before it could fall to the ground it was caught by his cloth. The fabric guided by a careful hand wiped the crimson from the metal; a new clean slate ready to be used to further the improvement of those who refused to improve themselves. Ready to be used to tear down the fakes who roamed the streets, who failed to be the heroes that they pledged to be. Unconsciously, Akaguro Chizome’s tongue swiped across his lips, remembering the taste of blood, and prepared to taste it again for the sake of a better society. 

The alley around him was dark, shadows casting it in considerable shade even during the day. The blood wasn’t one of a hero’s, not quite yet. It was some petty criminal who had come across Chizome and found it in themselves to fight him. He had downed them in mere minutes, leaving them in a pool of their own blood. They had made the mistake of challenging him, and those who dared to do that must be prepared to reap the consequences. And it certainly wasn’t a negative to cull a meaningless criminal. Heroes were his main prerogative, and he was certainly no longer a vigilante, but those self-purposeful criminals who had no conviction, no cause, especially those idiotic enough to seek out someone stronger for no reason other than pride, also were worth purging. Heroes needed to be cleaned out and sorted by him because no one but Chizome would see them as they were, but purposeless villains and criminals were also an unnecessary burden on humanity. 

A sudden, strange shift in the air pressure behind him had Chizome turning at lightning speed, the faint smell of petrichor his last warning before the floor dropped out from under his feet. Only his years of experience kept him from stumbling or scrambling as dark, purple smoke surrounded him right before he fell through the ground, as if into a void. He may not have had time to dodge or resist whatever had occurred, but he was skilled enough to land in a defensive and slightly crouched position. His knees were bent, every hair was standing on edge, and his eyes quickly absorbed his new surroundings. Wisps of mist slipped into nothing in the corners of his vision, but Chizome kept his attention on the figures in front of him.

There was a bar to his front-right, behind it a shelf of alcohol. Tables to his left, a tv at the other end of the bar, and a number of stools leading up to it. Behind the bar was a person who seemed to consist of the same purple mist that had abducted Chizome, their eyes a glowing and shifting yellow, and dressed in typical formal bartender wear. On the stool furthest away from Chizome, the one closest to the TV, sat a young adult with scraggly, pale blue hair, wearing simple and plain dark clothes. He recognized them as the recent celebrities of the underground, the misty warper Kurogiri and the unhinged villain Shigaraki Tomura. But the last figure there was not someone that he knew.

Standing next to the stools and face-to-face with Chizome was someone unknown. They wore simple black pants tucked into intricate combat boots, a dark gray collared shirt with a tactical vest and harness hybrid layered on top of it, and black coat over it all. It reached down to just above their knees, which seemed to have padding built into the pants themselves, just like the elbows. While the coat had a hood, it was not up at the moment, leaving an array of wild, dark green curls to bounce around freely, although pulled from their face into a half-up sort of style– the only thing keeping the mass of hair remotely contained. A compact stylized gas mask covered the lower half of their face, leaving this person’s eyes open to see.

They were a vivid viridian green. Not necessarily a rare color in itself, but that wasn’t what caught Chizome’s attention. What did, though, was the look of fury in this—evidently a child’s—expression. It was the type of unhinged anger that he was familiar with seeing in the faces of those villains who had a story to remember and a past to defy. But it was different, in a way. There was also a strange element that lost itself on Chizome. It was hard to describe, but something about it was off. Like they were possessed by their anger, more than just being controlled by it. And that, Chizome decided, was what made this look different. What would normally be pure, uncontrolled fury, was more. It was honed, not exactly brimming with clarity per say, but it was sharp and strategic. Unhinged, yes, but it wasn’t uncontrollable. That was what kept him from immediately dismissing this entire event and demanding release. Instead, he simply licked his lips and sought out what one always must in a situation such as this. Information.

“You’re the ones who attacked UA…” Chizome directed towards the two he recognized, before shifting his attention to the one he didn’t. While they were clearly young, they were also clearly the one in power here. Shigaraki was hunched over the bar, only watching Chizome through the hair falling over his face, and Kurogiri was behind the bar cleaning a glass. The young one was standing front and center, commanding the attention. It was more than just that, but their positions alone spoke of their level of control here. “…But I don’t recognize you.”

The new one nodded curtly. “I am Onryou, he/him. You are Stain, the Hero Killer,” Onryou responded diplomatically. But, hidden deep in his tone and under that composure was a layer of impatience. Angry impatience, of course, because it seemed like this one was filled with a wrath that almost seemed too much for such a small, young person to harbor. It wasn’t that Chizome felt pity or condescendance– no, this was not someone to be pitied or underestimated, he could see. The fury was just so large and all-encompassing that it felt like it was leaking out of him, polluting the air around Onryou like a dark aura. He could respect that type of pure presence, as it normally spoke of conviction. But Onryou’s drive was still to be determined, regardless of whatever feeling his palpable anger induced. “You’ve been rising in popularity and infamy.” 

“And you want me to join your little gang,” Chizome said, not a question. Onryou nodded to confirm all the same. “What are you after?”

Onryou held up a picture of a kid, someone that Chizome vaguely recognized as one of the placers in the UA Sports Festival. While he didn’t watch those, not anymore, it was impossible not to see the billboards or hear the talk, which he needed to listen to to find his targets. Be had heard all about the general education student who had somehow sweeped the competition, coming out of nowhere in the tournament round and sending the hero course students packing. Not to mention how the picture was also clearly taken from the podium, if the medal and background was of any evidence. But this wasn’t that gen-ed kid, no, it was the one he remembered placed second: Bakugou Katsuki, he believed. “I want this one tied to a chair in front of me–” Onryou slid the photo to the side, revealing one that had been stacked beneath it, “–and this one dead.”

All Might smiled at him from the paper, his blinding light clear even through the photo. In a split second, Chizome’s eyes flicked back to Onryou’s, seeing the completely serious look reflected back at him. The rage there bubbled dangerously, and Chizome reassessed him. Yes, he was full of conviction and anger. But he was foolish. Two goals, and neither of which worthy. The capture of a child, likely petty revenge for getting into the hero course when Onryou couldn’t, or something similarly childish, and the death of the One True Hero. There were many reasons villains might want All Might dead, and most all were for fame or misguided revenge. This wasn’t a man on a mission, this was a child having a temper tantrum. 

“It’s ridiculous that you had my attention for a moment there… Hahhh, you’re the type I hate most,” Chizome began, pulling his knives from his sheaths strapped across his chest. “As if I’d team up with some tantrum-throwing child… Your goals are that of petty revenge and bloodlust, not true conviction.”

Onryou’s eyes noticeably darkened at his words, and in his peripheral Chizome noticed Kurogiri glance at the blank TV. Shigaraki didn’t move. In the blink of an eye Chizome, on the other hand, was darting forward with his dual hunting knives ready. His body was as sharp as an arrow, his strength and skill forged from years of pure experience that this child would have no way to match. He lunged to slice Shigaraki and Kurogiri first to ensure they would not interfere, and that–

That is when Onryou moved.

Chapter Text

“To truly accomplish something, one needs will and conviction. Those without it—the weak ones—they'll be weeded out. It’s only natural.

“That’s why you’re not dead.”

Onryou scoffed, the anger that Chizome had begun to suspect was a constant almost tangible in the air. Neither of the two let up, both caught in a stalemate. Each of his two hunting knives, one in each hand, were crossed with one of Onryou’s own. Chizome’s plan to shake the child’s true ambitions and intent out of him through the threat of death had quickly fallen through, but the drive and power that it took to defend against him spoke volumes, almost as much as actually bringing Onryou to the brink may have. Chizome had been intercepted far before he was able to even reach Kurogiri, his first intended target. The scuffle had not been short or easy, and this fact alone made him once again reassess his view of Onryou. He needed more information, more insight into who this person was.

So he pushed further, trying to weed a revealing response out of his opponent. “The word ‘hero’ has lost its meaning in this corrupt society, rife with fakers and shams, criminals who aimlessly throw their weight around too… all of them are targets of my purge. Why should you not be included in that number?”

The furious aura around Onryou seemed to sharpen, and his eyes narrowed. “You talk a lot about convictions, and yet you can’t even recognize mine. You claim I’m having a temper tantrum,” this time it was less of an annoyed scoff and more of a sarcastically humorous one, “and yet you don’t know a thing about me, or about him, or about that sham of a hero. Both of those two deserve what’s coming to them. All Might is a stupid man that all of the clueless masses worship for foolish reasons, and if Kacchan thinks he can live as he does, as if he deserves any bit of happiness and fortune he’s received–” Onryou growled, each word turning the air more and more tense, like a string about to snap. Venom dripped from his voice, growing especially strong at the mention of those who he seemed to hold worlds of contempt for, “–then he’s dead wrong.

“Bakugou Katsuki will die, painfully, and by my hands.”

A surge of strength followed Onryou’s last statement, and he pushed Chizome back. He didn’t resist as strongly as he may have, and didn’t attempt to leap forward or reinitiate the fight. He had acknowledged it earlier, but Onryou’s presence was absolutely electric. Chizome had surely let his support in All Might blind him for a moment, because he never should have thought, not even for a second, that this child was full of anything but conviction. Perhaps his desire to kill All Might was because of his representation of hero society, rather than fame or some other type of foolish belief that the hero had somehow personally slighted Onryou. And the child clearly had some type of history with Bakugou, more than the pettiness that he had assumed earlier. 

Perhaps they’d work together better than Chizome had initially thought. 

“Our respective goals are far from complimentary, but… destroying the status quo… that’s one ambition we have in common,” he offered with a grin.

“I thought I was the ‘type you hated most,’” Onryou spat back through gritted teeth.

“I was attempting to test your sincerity. People show their true colors when death is staring them in the face. You are strange, but your will… I can see you have an interesting seed of conviction within you.” Chizome took a moment to look over Onryou, seeing him truly as he was for what was possibly the first time this meeting. He was still standing, braced for defense or attack, whichever came first. His hair had already been disheveled, and the fight hadn’t added anything in particular more to the mess. His eyes were glowing with that endless ire, as well as with a well of determination that Chizome hadn’t fully grasped before. His expression was twisted into a deep scowl, but it wasn’t disregardant. He was listening, regardless of what he was thinking in response. With a smile, he finished his thought. “I wonder what that seed will yield.

“I’ll deal with you properly once I’ve seen that through. It may not be too late,” he concluded, arms splayed in a flourish.

It only took him a short second to recognize that Onryou was shaking. His head had bowed during Chizome’s last couple of statements, taking away any clear view of his eyes and expression. And so, now as he was trembling, Chizome couldn’t rely on his face to parse out why. His body language was held tight in the same position as before, likely still due to the tenseness of the situation. There wasn’t much that told what he was thinking; his eyes and general aura had been how Chizome was identifying it, but at the moment that wasn’t as clear as an option. Then, Onryou’s head rose slightly, and as it did, quiet, breathless chuckling reached Chizome’s ears. He wasn’t given more than a millisecond to register that before Onryou was straightening, his face becoming visible again as he met Chizome’s gaze. The chuckles died out, but even as they lessened, it was clear to hear that it wasn’t humorous. It was frenzied, incredulous, and of course, filled with Onryou’s ever-present anger. His expression and oh-so expressive eyes reflected the same emotions, filled with a raging viridian fire.

“You…” he started. His voice caught in one last chuckle, making him almost sound breathless with the force of the venom he was spitting. “You are such a fucking prick.” Chizome didn’t jolt at the insult, but his eyes narrowed as his mouth twitched down from its previous grin. Onryou continued, undeterred by the dissatisfaction revealed in Chizome’s reaction. “‘Deal with me properly,’ huh? I’m interesting, so you’re going to wring me out to see what makes me tick before you leave me for the wolves? I’m useful only when it’s for your own interest? You test me and say that shit then assume I’d still want anything to do with you?” He laughed again, this time barking and loud and his head jolting with the violence of the sound. “You’re fucking delusional.”

As he snarled his last sentence, his head came back down from where it had been during his abrupt moment of laughter, only stopping when he was looking up at Chizome through his lashes. It was intimidating, his half-lidded eyes were churning with a mix of deadly promise and toxic green fire, a fitting companion to the overwhelming wrath.

Yes, if shaped by a capable hand, Onryou could become something truly great. The potential this child encompassed was untapped. With this type of determination, if paired with the right ideals, this anger-driven gremlin could become a phenomenon. He certainly had the presence. And, as Onryou said, Chizome was prepared to take him down if that did not play out. And in the meantime, he would gladly offer his support, if only just to see what Onryou would do with it. But, before Chizome had a chance to respond or convey any of that, Onryou was speaking again.

Even as Onryou’s eyes stayed fixed on his, it was clear his next words were not intended for Chizome. “Kurogiri, send him back.” 

And, just like before, Chizome barely had time to register the shifting of air pressure and scent of petrichor before he was dropping through the floor yet again. He found himself unceremoniously dumped back into the same alley he had been taken from, barely keeping from falling over. He stumbled only one step before he regained his balance and resisted the urge to growl at the undignified sendoff. To chase away the flaring anger and regain his sense, he took a steadying breath and calmed his thoughts of Onryou’s potential. If the boy refused to cultivate it, then he would either fail or eventually fall victim to Chizome’s blade. And if he did use that determination of his correctly… Well, wouldn’t that be grand? Though, the kid seemed far more focused on his revenge than pursuing revolution.

Chizome huffed a short laugh, just once. The boy’s alias… Onryou. A vengeful spirit. It was an accurate name, he could give him that.

Worry was a funny feeling. It burrowed into your chest, pulling you and your thoughts towards the feeling’s source, invading your brain and keeping you away from other important tasks. It kept you up at night, running your brain into overdrive and refusing to go away until it was satiated with some kind of evidence proving that all was okay. Even then, it still ran rampant in the doomed imagination of the worried. It was a stubborn emotion.

Uraraka Ochako, for one, was worried. To be fair, she was pretty damn sure everyone who even remotely knew Iida Tenya was, considering the situation, but she was especially worried since he was her best friend. Ever since the entrance exam they had been friends, and she felt like she had just the littlest bit of authority over her classmates when it came to how worried they should be. Iida had saved her, and she felt useless not being able to help him now.

Back then, during that entrance exam, Ochako had been about to be crushed. She had called out for help, and for a moment had thought that she’d be left for dead. Even if it was a school exam, and she now doubted they’d actually let her die, in the moment she had been terrified. No one was coming, and she had been about to give up and go limp. Then there had been a sudden whoosh and a great crack, and the rock above her fractured into pieces. She was pulled out from where she had been trapped, managing to stand if she kept the pressure on her left angle light. But before she could give herself a solid moment of hope, a cry of pain and thump reached her ears. A look had confirmed it, the person who had saved her had engines sticking out of their legs, and they were injured by a piece of rubble that had likely dislodged and tumbled forward. Now, with their right leg looking wrecked, she knew that they were both down for the count and unable to run away. For just a second of terror, she thought that she and her savior were about to be crushed by a giant robot foot. But then, in a moment of courage and last-ditch hope, she had reached up to touch the mass of metal about to slam down upon them. 

It hadn’t been a serious attempt, rather one born of desperation, but perhaps it was that desperation that did it. Ochako’s fingertips connected, and miraculously, her quirk activated. The momentum that had spurred her upwards kept her arm going, and with her quirk activated on the robot, her push sent it a solid few feet away and up into the air. Immediately, the most intense wave of nausea and pressure that she had ever felt before washed over her, the pure amount of weight she was holding with her quirk taking its toll. With weak, shaking arms she just barely managed to pull her hands together. With a pathetic and strained “ Release! ” the robot crashed down, causing a deafening cacophony of noise. She had doubled over and thrown up as soon as her fingers had connected with each other, passing out right after that.

Ochako had received 50 rescue points for her impressive feat, and a new friend when she walked into 1-A. Iida had been very grateful for her help, as had she for his. He admitted that he wasn’t going to help at first, that he was about to ignore her calls for assistance and flee just like everyone else, but then he had noticed just that: no one was going to help. He still intended to run, but he had found his feet moving the other way, operating on instinct and adrenaline. He apologized, saying that if he had just chosen to go help immediately then maybe he would have succeeded, but Ochako was just grateful he had tried at all.

After that they became good friends. They fought together at the entrance of the USJ, where she and the others had worked together to get him an opening to escape and go get help. That experience had cemented it, making them best friends. And now Ochako was the one who needed to find a way to make sure he knew that he had friends who were there for him. Admittedly, it took her a while to figure out something to say. At the train station, right before they had left for their respective internships, she had gone up to Iida with Tsu, who had made a habit of joining them at lunch, by her side.

“Iida– if it ever gets too much, or you need to talk, please let us know! We’re your friends, and we’ll be here for you always!” Ochako had told him, as brightly and confidently as she could manage.

Ever since the attack, he had been strangely normal and cheerful, or at least, he’d tried to be. Even though he mostly acted the same as usual, there was a small shudder to his usually rigid arm chops, an extra rigidness to his shoulders, and his smile was stretched slightly wider and more awkwardly than it had before. After she had offered her support, the smallest bit of realness finally opened on his face. His smile dropped, and a shadow seemed to pass over him. For a moment, Ochako thought that he was going to take up the offer and finally lean on them for some support. But then his expression shuttered, the tiniest hint of grief and pain that had every right to be there dissolving and going right back to the forced cheer from the past week. 

“Thank you,” he had said resolutely, before turning to get to his train. Ochako let herself think that he had taken her words to heart. She would come to regret that choice.

They left to go to their respective agencies, and then Ochako had gotten swept up in training. Learning Gunhead Martial Arts was difficult but rewarding. And the hero himself was much cuter than she expected him to be! He was just so unintentionally adorable, and Ochako had to keep herself from giggling like an idiot whenever he did something exceptionally cute. In the intervening moments when she had some time to herself, Ochako attempted to contact Iida to ask how things were going. He was ignoring her messages, and it made her unimaginably worried. Iida would normally respond within three minutes of a message being sent, so him straight up not responding was very unusual. Ochako tried her best to chalk it up to internships taking up his time, and, of course, his brother had been attacked. It was perfectly understandable that he wasn’t acting exactly like normal. It wasn’t too worrying that he wasn’t responding… Right? 

Especially worried, Ochako tried to call when her fifth message that day was left unacknowledged. She reached his answering machine almost immediately, and she lowered her phone from her ear with a frown, not bothering to leave a voicemail. 

“Uravity, we’re about to start.” Ochako glanced behind her to see Gunhead coming over. He paused for a second, looking at her with her phone, and he brightened. Ochako had no clue how he managed to express that with his face completely covered, but his body language was flamboyant enough to do the work for him, she realized. “Was that a ‘friend?’”

The question took her off-guard, and the tone very clearly indicated that he meant a more-than-friend. A blush spread across Ochako’s cheeks, reddening her ever-present flush considerably. “No! It’s not like that, I’m just worried about him…” Her blush died as she was reminded of the issue at hand, her eyes dropping back to the call ended screen on her phone. “His brother is Ingenium, and now he’s interning at an agency in Hosu where Ingenium got attacked, and I’m… I’m worried that he’s going to do something reckless.”

Gunhead sobered at her clear distress, though he perked up after a second. “If you’re worried, why don’t we drop by Hosu for patrol tomorrow afternoon? It’ll need to be an overnight, but we can try and cross paths with whatever agency he’s at!”

Ochako brightened at the idea, looking back up to Gunhead with a grateful smile. “Yeah, that sounds great! Thank you,” she said sincerely.

After waving off the thanks with a hand, Gundead placed both of his hands on his hips. “Now, let’s get back to training!”

“Yeah!” Ochako returned with a motivated fist-pump and determined grin.

The next afternoon, they were off to Hosu as promised. On the way Gunhead informed her sadly that they would not be able to officially meet up with Manual or his agency in the time they’d be there, but perhaps they would run into them along the streets. The first part of the visit was spent visiting another Hosu-based hero, The Fly, at their agency. They told her about their own experiences with hero work, and even sparred against Ochako once or twice. They beat her, of course, but she learned a lot from them! They even offered to join her and Gunhead on their patrol, saying that they’d be honored to be seen with such a promising young hero. Ochako had blushed at the praise, and Gunhead had taken the offer glowingly. 

Eventually it had been time to suit up and go out, and it had started just fine. Ochako hadn’t been able to message Iida since that morning, but she had a hunch that he hadn’t responded to that one either. She had hope that they’d run into Manual and Iida by extension, but things had gone awry before that could happen.

As the sun was setting in the sky, Ochako walked next to The Fly, lightly discussing the differences between each of their types/methods of flight while sweeping their eyes around the streets and smiling at the civilians. Gunhead followed behind them, humming a little tune from a popular song. It was a nice, peaceful moment. But as mentioned, it was only a moment, for it soon went wrong.

Suddenly, a crash sounded to the right of and past the intersection that Ochako and the others had been coming up on, and soon following was a plume of gray smoke, and the glow of fire. And then there were the fearful screams accompanying all of that, and the people that came rushing away from whatever had occurred. Heroic instincts immediately kicked into The Fly and Gunhead and sent them running past the frozen Ochako. After a single millisecond of hesitation, she was following right behind them.

The scene they arrived on was terrifying. As the glow from earlier had implied, there was fire, but that was from the multiple car wrecks that had also likely been the source of the crash. Heroes flocked towards the danger, and crowds of people swarmed away in the opposite direction. In the center of the destruction were two beings that had Ochako freezing again. They… They looked like…

Noumu.

Like that hulking being from the USJ, twisted and unnatural in the same ways it had been. The same exposed brains and lack of humanity that no mutant-quirked person seemed to have. One was gray, not the dark midnight color like the USJ, but the other one resembled it much more closely. Regardless, they were all clearly the same kind of creature– if nothing else, the brains gave it away. The flying one was diving at cars and buildings, and the dark one was ripping at and smashing random things nearby, both attacking when heroes tried to stop either of them. All the while they let out these horrible wails, not quite human-sounding, yet at the same time far too human for comfort. Ochako willed her limbs to move, feeling exceptionally worthless just standing there, limbs locked and expression slack with shock and horror.

Just like she had done back at the USJ as her teacher was slammed into the concrete in an attempt to protect them. Just as she stood by when Thirteen was ripped to shreds by that warper.

Her fist clenched where it laid useless at her side, and she willed herself into action. Ochako may have stood by before, but she wouldn’t ever let that happen again. She’d die before she let someone get hurt like that again on her watch. Her body finally responded to her wills, and she had just started to surge forward when a hand landed on her shoulder.

“You’re a student! Stay back!” The Fly said as they pushed her back and behind them. 

Ochako started to answer, but was interrupted by a bus being practically thrown in their direction. Running on pure instinct, Ochako grabbed The Fly with one hand and slapped her cheek with the other, sending them both back with a push from the springs in her shoes. The bus screeched to a stop where they had been before it erupted into fire with a loud blast. Ochako flinched at the noise, but pulled her hands up to touch her fingertips together regardless.

With a small mutter of “Release!” Ochako let herself take a deep breath to chase away the barest hint of nausea that came from her floating herself. She also did it to calm her nerves, but the scent of smoke in the air only seemed to heighten them.

The Fly sent her a look that managed to combine thanks and exasperation into one expression, before they nudged her away again. Ochako wanted to protest—she had just helped! She could help!—but was interrupted yet again by another loud noise, this time from a noumu throwing a piece of concrete that struck a railing and a loud and abrasive sound. The Fly took off, using the wings on their forearms to spur themselves through the air before the wings stilled as they sent themselves straight at the flying noumu. Their legs were arranged into a kick that hit the target straight on, prompting another unnerving scream from the thing.

“Uravity!” Gunhead said, falling back to be closer to hearing range. His hand had been raised to his ear a moment before, probably muting his hero comms so he could give her orders without disrupting the other heroes. “I, pro hero Gunhead, give you permission to assist the paramedics and pull victims out of danger! Do not engage in the main fight, keep to the outskirts!”

With that, Ochako’s mentor jumped back into the fray without giving her time to respond. Ochako had already prepared herself to jump right in, fully ready to ignore the orders she had been given in favor of saving people. She was going to be a hero, and she was not going to stand by like she had before. But the permission to assist the medics and save civilians satiated that urge to help, and she realized that she would probably be a hindrance to the actual fight, even if she longed to actually help defeat the danger this time. So she sucked it up, and started to turn back to run over to wherever the paramedics were.

 At least, she started to. After barely one step forward, something stopped Ochako in her tracks.

The Normal Hero: Manual ran past her, towards the fire hydrant that a hero had just busted for him to use. As he passed her, Ochako heard the hero say something to himself.

“Why did you choose a time like this to run off, Tenya?!” 

Oh.

Oh no.

It was becoming painfully obvious that Midoriya Izuku was different.

That in itself was not a crime, but the change had been abrupt and drastic. Grief did strange things, sure, but Izuku almost seemed to be a completely different person now. It was increasingly concerning. Izuku from before definitely would have tackled this entire situation far more logically, but the Izuku from now was so lost in his anger that he was blinded to what were likely the more reasonable choices. The meeting with Stain, if not his behavior leading up to it, proved that effectively. Now, sitting at the bar, Izuku was gripping a glass of water like he’d break it if he squeezed any harder. Tomura sat next to him, albeit with two empty stools between them, but Izuku didn’t seem to notice in the slightest. Tomura had also been different, but not like Izuku. While Izuku had become unstable and angry and loud, Tomura seemed to retract into himself. He was more quiet than he ever had been before, and often just stared at Izuku like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Kurogiri was the only unchanging one so it seemed.

“We need to stage another attack.”

If Kurogiri were human or any less used to Tomura’s old tendencies, he would have been startled at the sudden statement. But he wasn’t, and he was, so he didn’t. Though he did pause in his cleaning of a glass for a moment, before continuing as he spoke. 

“An attack?” he prompted, looking up to see Izuku still staring at his glass of water.

As Kurogiri spoke his second word, Izuku’s head rose, and it took significantly more to not react to the still unfamiliar look of utter fury boiling in the boy’s eyes. “Stain made a mockery out of us. He’s an All Might worshiper. We need to stay in the public’s conscience. We should stage a large-scale attack and kill him during it.”

While Kurogiri paused again in his task, Tomura seemed to freeze altogether, staring at Izuku with bewilderment and something more in his expression. But he didn’t speak, and neither did Kurogiri, so the boy continued.

“We’ll release some noumu, tonight. Not any as high quality as the one used at the USJ, but still ones that will give the heroes trouble. Then I will find and kill Stain, preferably with a witness. I can make a statement or leave a calling card, and it will be my debut.” Izuku wasn’t speaking to Kurogiri or Tomura anymore. Instead of them, he was staring at the TV screen, which had turned on sometime when Kurogiri hadn’t been paying attention to it. The sound only display was on it, and the static prickled at Kurogiri’s hearing. 

A deep hum radiated from the speakers, and Sensei responded after another moment. “How many noumu?”

Before Izuku was able to respond, a point of tension in Tomura seemed to snap. He pushed up from the bar, pushing the stool back and his hands splayed on the wood. The only thing keeping the bar from being disintegrated was the artist’s gloves still on Tomura’s hands. His gaze was lasered on Izuku. The other boy kept his own still on the TV screen, barely acknowledging the clatter behind him. This sight seemed to enrage Tomura further. 

“You’re actually going to let him do this?” Tomura asked, his voice brimming with incredulous disbelief. He didn’t look away from Izuku, even as he spoke to Sensei.

“He is also set to be a villain, Tomura. He is using his anger as the weapon it is, and will learn, just as you have,” Sensei said, diplomatic as ever, “And, Izuku, you may have three noumu. Good luck on your attack, my boy.”

The screen went black. Tomura, enraged, stormed around the bar and upstairs, the slamming of his bedroom door eventually audible even two floors down. Izuku didn’t visibly react, and simply rose to prepare for the attack. Preparations weren’t lengthy, since Kurogiri knew Izuku spent most of his time in his villain ensemble nowadays and there wasn’t much else to prepare for, but still the sun was low in the sky when it was time for the attack to begin. A portal was opened up in the bar area, and Onryou was the first to enter. The first, because Shigaraki Tomura soon followed. 

That was something that surprised Kurogiri. For all of his clear dislike of this plan and the whole situation, he wasn’t locked in his room and pouting like a child, like he’d have done before. Now, he was back to the unfamiliar quiet and brooding version of himself. With strangely calculating eyes set on Izuku, the young adult slunk through the warp gate with only the hand on his face. That was another thing. Tomura barely wore the hands. That had already changed once Izuku became a part of their life. Except for times where they had to go do business, Tomura never kept his hands even nearby anymore. Even Father was mostly kept in his room. Now though, he was only wearing that one, even going out on business. It was out of the norm. It was out of character.

But, regardless of the recent strange changes in his charges, Kurogiri had a job to do. He let the warp gate consume him, and ended up on top of a water tower. When he exited the portal, he did not expect to come out to a conversation, and he was correct in that assumption. However, it was still unsettling to see Izuku like this. So consumed that he was barely even acknowledging of his… Well, whatever Kurogiri and Tomura were to him, it was certainly important, at least before. Now he was always angry, and quiet. It was almost like how Tomura used to be, excluding the loud rants and obvious tantrums. Perhaps it wasn’t as similar as Kurogiri had thought, just him finding links between his two charges.

“Kurogiri, the noumu.” At Izuku’s cold command, Kurogiri obeyed. Out of the mist came the three promised noumu. One was large, winged, and gray, with a snout-like face that melded into a gas-mask fixture. Another resembled the Anti-Symbol of Peace’s build, albeit with differences. The skin was black instead of the dark midnight of the Anti-Symbol, and its face had no eyes, an exposed bottom jaw, and a larger expanse of brains. It was also granted longer pants leading into some armor to its knees and calves. The last was hunched, sporting a mindless face with two sets of wide unseeing eyes and a mouth left slightly opened. It had long, limbering arms and legs that stretched and moved in strange, uncomfortable ways. 

The three creations waited calmly as Izuku fit the gas mask that had been resting around his neck onto his lower face. His hair was tied back, as it usually was, leaving his piercing green eyes open to the world. Lastly, he pulled his hood over his head, securing it with its built-in clips to his hair. Now fully set up, Onryou turned to the noumu, the blaze in his eyes brighter than ever.

“Attack heroes and cause chaos. Avoid civilians, but fight when fought. Go.”

Each of the noumu let out a distinctive and unsettling high-pitched screech before taking off. The limbering one leapt across rooftops till it jumped into a faraway alley, the winged one flew up for a minute before it dove down into a nearby street, and the dark one immediately sprang forward and followed the winged noumu’s heels. Less than a minute later, crashes and screams began to ring throughout the night. Onryou barely seemed to notice the chaos he had started, simply ignoring it and turning back to Kurogiri and Tomura.

Those viridian eyes seemed close to neon with the light hitting them just right, but they were oddly unfocused and faraway. Strangely clouded, and yet still overflowing with rage. He blinked, and was turning away only a moment later.

“I’ll hunt down Stain. Do as you wish.” With that, the young villain dashed away, hopping from rooftop to rooftop in the opposite direction of the noumu. Tomura’s head was lowered, and Father was still obscuring his face, but Kurogiri knew that the young adult was staring at Onryou, the same as the bartender was. Onryou’s dark coat began to truly blend him into the night, and it eventually became impossible to track his movements anymore. Kurogiri felt a wave of foreboding wash over him at the sight.

Beside him, Shigaraki Tomura similarly stared at Onryou’s disappearing figure, his visible eye narrowed.

Chapter Text

Iida Tenya had intended to serve justice and revenge, both at once. Two birds, one stone. If he were truly being honest, his motivations had been more skewed towards revenge in the moment, just rationalized with the idea of serving justice. Revenge and justice had rather seemed like the same thing, during that time. Getting rid of Stain was serving justice for his brother, and for any of his other past or future victims. But, again, his goals weren’t nearly as altruistic as that. Truly, he had wanted to hurt Stain like the man had hurt his brother. He had wanted to do anything, anything at all, to stop feeling so god damn useless. He hadn’t intended to become another victim.

And yet, that seemed to be what he was about to become. 

He was pinned with Stain’s boot on his back and his sword in his shoulder, chest pressed flat against the ground. Images of his brother flashed through his head, all the memories of seeing Ingenium saving people and being the best hero Tenya knew. Stain had ended all of that, and for what? The villain had some delusional idea that all heroes were trash, even ones like Tensei! Tensei was an amazing hero! He saved so many people! He never deserved to have his lifeblood cut short, his legs forever paralyzed. He would never be able to walk again, let alone be a hero. And Stain had been the one to do that.

“He’s my hero! He’s a great hero who inspired my dreams!” Tenya yelled, tears pooling in his eyes. “I’ll kill you for what you did!”

“Save him first.” 

Tenya’s frantic, rushing thoughts and memories stuttered. His eyes, wide and still wet, shifted to look at Native, one of the Hosu heroes. The man was slumped against the wall, eyes wide with concentration and determination, like he was desperately trying to move even while his body refused to budge. “Forget about yourself for a second and try saving others. Don’t wield your power for your own sake.”

No… That’s not what… That’s not what he was doing! He was doing this for Tensei!

“Because getting trapped by your own hate and acting out of pure self-interest makes you the farthest thing from a hero.” 

No… No…

“That’s why…” Stain pulled his sword out from where it had been lodged right in the flesh of Tenya’s shoulder, making him gasp in pain. “...You must die.”

Though unable to see the cause, Tenya felt it when his limbs locked and suddenly he wasn’t able to move any of his body. It was a strange, almost tingling sensation that reverberated through his bones and did nothing to aid against the storm brewing in his mind. He screwed his eyes, shut, trying to block out the pain and noise and all of his thoughts piling upon each other in his brain. 

“Consider yourself a humble offering to the betterment of society.”

Gritting his teeth, Tenya’s eyes opened a fraction, glaring into nothing. “Shut up… Shut up!” An image of Tensei smiling proudly at him swam through his addled brain. His voice raised until he was screaming. “It doesn’t matter what you say now! You’re still the criminal who hurt my brother! ”

Just when his last words left his mouth, there was a blur of movement as Stain was tackled off of his back. A new person, wearing a dark coat and a hood, had catapulted over Tenya and into Stain, punching him right in the face. What..?

“Bingo.” The voice was distorted, definitely due to some sort of voice changer, but still incredibly menacing. There was so much implicative emotion packed into that one word and it sent a shiver down Tenya’s spine. Or rather, it would have, if he could move.

Stain stumbled back, disoriented for a moment before one of his feet slammed down, balancing him and bringing him into a more battle-ready position. Tenya was finding it difficult to make out many details, as his glasses had come off some time during his own measly fight with Stain, and also due to his horrid angle of the scene. He strained his eyes to keep a visual of what was going on, his blood roaring in his ears.

“You insulted us,” the distorted voice came again, slow and growling. “You’ll pay for that.”

Even with the unsetting aura this person was eluding, they were the only person who wasn’t under the influence of Stain’s quirk right now. Grinding his teeth and swallowing his hesitance, Tenya spoke. “His quirk, he cut me and now… Now I can’t move!”

Even speaking was a struggle through the paralysis, and Tenya’s jaw ached from the effort. The person chuckled lowly, the slight glitchiness of the sound somehow making them even more sinister. Tenya had a feeling that this person was not any type of hero. Still… Tensei’s smiling face still echoed through Tenya’s mind, and he remembered that he needed to get this person away, not help them.

“Go away! Don’t interfere!” he called, as clear as he could with half of his face pressed against cement. “This is my fight, it doesn't have anything to do with you!”

In the corner of his eyes, he could make out the newcomer pause at his words, and turn their head slightly to see him better. “That armor and facial structure… You’re Ingenuim’s little brother, huh? Ha, maybe you do have a more personal stake in this fight than I do.” Even with his blurred vision, Tenya couldn’t miss the toxic green eyes when they were hit by the limited light. “Still, I’m the one standing. I get first dibs.”

While Tenya could not even remotely see this person’s face, there was an otherworldly fury dripping from their words. Barely visible through their deceptively light tone was a rage Tenya had thought he had known burrowed inside. Yet, this small glimpse of it was enough to shake Tenya and make him realize that, as righteously angry as he was, this person…

They were angrier.

WIthout any warning, the only two still standing in the alley flew into action. Being unable to see clearly, many of the finer details were lost on Tenya. Stain’s sword flew and cut through the air, impossibly fast, but the newcomer was rearing to meet his skill with what looked to be a dagger in each hand. The two traded blows, performing stunts and flips and underhanded moves unlike anything Tenya had seen. Even with their blades, the newcomer still used their clenched fists to punch, and their steel-toed and spiked boots to kick. Stain met each attack with a mirror of his own, his own steel boots and blades pushing out attacks that never reached their target, the person flitting out of the way just in time every time they got close. The flurry of battle lasted a few minutes, neither party showing much sign of tiring.

With one mighty kick and jab to the throat, Stain was sent reeling just long enough for the newcomer to get some capture tape (that honestly reminded Tenya of Aizawa-sensei’s capture weapon) wrapped around his wrist. Using that as an anchor point, in an instant Stain’s arms were tightly bound to his sides. Meanwhile, Tenya felt his fingers twitch, finally responding to his demands. He forced himself to hide any sign of his progress from appearing on his face, instead focusing on trying to move more of himself. His body still did not want to respond but the strange tingles from before were definitely less intense. Now something different took its place, a feeling reminiscent of waking up a sleeping limb.

Stain himself growled, clearly unhappy with his predicament. “Onryou…” he began, before his head whipped to the side. The newcomer, Onryou as Stain seemed to imply, had smacked him. Tenya had a better angle now, and he flinched at the sudden movement. His eyes widened, realizing that he had moved, but he was still painfully aware that Onryou’s hand, the one that wasn’t wrapped around one end of the tape, was occupied with a knife. Still, even trying to preoccupy himself with attempting to push through the paralysis fully, he saw Onryou look at the knife, then at Stain, until their eyes landed on Tenya. He became very still at the attention.

They seemed to hesitate.

“He hurt and crippled your brother.”

It wasn’t phrased or toned as a question, and yet it demanded an answer. Tenya was taken off guard, his face quickly rearranging into a wary confusion. He swallowed. After another moment of cautious hesitation, he answered. “Yes.”

Onryou paused, just for a moment, before they were approaching Tenya. He did his best not to suddenly freeze up and reveal his newfound ability to move. His worry and terror and grief and anger was all mixing into a motley mess of emotion and he resisted the urge to tense and brace himself. Onryou paused when they were right in front of Tenya, and then they were crouching down and pulling him up. They didn’t pull him to stand, instead propping him up into a sitting position against the wall, all the while clearly keeping Stain in their peripheral vision. When Onryou seemed satisfied enough with Tenya’s new position, they spoke again.

“Do you want the honors?”

Taken off guard, Tenya’s question slipped out of his mouth without him meaning them to. “What?”

“You know…” Onryou glanced towards Stain, and back to Tenya, those viridian eyes alight and slightly easier to see as they crouched right in front of him. “D’you want to kill him? He insulted me and my allies, but he crippled your brother. In this instance, you have more right.”

…What?

“You can blame the death on me. I wanted him dead anyways, and Native over there will bleed out soon so he won’t be much of an issue,” Onryou continued, a gloved finger running across the sharp end of the blade.

No, wait– This– no. Tenya didn’t… This… This is what he wanted, right? He wanted to hurt Stain, to kill him for what he did to his brother but– Something about… This– This didn’t feel like…

Onryou continued to stare at Tenya, the knife now extended with the hilt towards Tenya. It was a more than clear invitation. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Somehow, Tenya was still so lost. Killing Stain would be avenging Tensei and bringing about justice, but this situation somehow… He had an opportunity to do what he set out to do. It was being handed to him on a silver platter. And yet. Yet. Completely unrelated to the paralysis, which had fully worn off by now, Iida Tenya felt absolutely frozen. His mouth finally closed, his jaw clenching as it shut.

He just… couldn’t do it.

It seemed that his hesitation did not go unnoticed, and Onryou’s demeanor soon changed from somewhat docile to something far closer to the anger that had radiated off of them before. While Tenya’s fury had simmered down so much that he felt cold and hollow, it seemed like his own lack of will had ignited Onryou’s once again. Now that they were closer, Tenya could just barely see Onryou’s eyes well enough to be able to fully process the shift. It was like a door slamming down, cutting off whatever twisted empathy had been there previously. Their body seized up, so dramatically that it was obvious even to Tenya’s impaired vision. They abruptly stood, the knife’s handle now held in a whitening grip and their burning eyes locked on Tenya’s.

“You… won’t kill him. He hurt your brother, and yet you won’t…” Incredulous disbelief laced Onryou’s words, and their shoulders rose with their anger. Tenya felt like he was watching a train go off the rails, and he knew he was about to be caught up in the crash.

A shuffle behind Onryou had both them and Tenya turning their attention, far too late. Stain had escaped while Onryou was distracted with Tenya’s weakness, and was currently about to run his katana through Onryou as the remnants of the bandage-like restraints flowed around him. There was no time to react, no time to process or tense even as time seemed to slow and the blade approached the back of the base of Onryou’s neck. 

It seemed like someone would die in this alley after all, Tenya thought hysterically. 

Then, a blur of pink proved him wrong.

Uraraka Ochako flew through the alleys, her feet brushing the floor before she was utilizing her costume’s spring heels and pushing off into the air again. She was growing more nauseous by the second, but that didn’t matter. Not at all, not when she feared her discovery would be her best friend’s dead body. She wrestled the urge to vomit down into a box, doing her best to block it out so she could stay focused on her search.

If there was one thing the Sports Festival had taught Ochako, it was that planning and strategy was key. The second round especially showed her that, even with a powerful quirk, it could be outshined by someone else’s pure skill alone. Hatsume Mei’s quirk, while not not useful, was not the source of her incredible inventions or her genius. The one-on-one tournament fights had forced Ochako to figure out some real strategies. Her quirk would give her an almost automatic win, but only if she touched her opponent. And when her opponents knew that, she had to figure out a way to get around whatever defenses they put up. Each battle, while seeming quick and in-the-moment to the watchers, was a mess of plans and getting each opponent to think one thing or another so she could subvert those expectations and take advantage of the opening. She may have failed against Bakugou in the semifinals, but she had proven to everyone else and herself that she was able to plan, set a trap, and strategize. 

Since then, even if her priority had become simply becoming stronger with brawling, she hadn’t forgotten that lesson. Knowing and understanding and planning for her enemy was going to be integral in hero work, rescue hero or not. 

Which was why she was currently racing across the rooftops and searching the back alleys of Hosu, instead of focusing on the large neon sign pointing to the noumu and the fire and destruction and chaos. Because, regardless of whatever reason was causing that, Stain was 100% going to strike in the shadow of the League’s attack. It was easy to figure that the villain struck in obscure alleys, most likely through some sort of ambush so the hero would have less time to defend. She was pretty sure the news talked about Stain’s tendencies to strike in back alleys too, so it didn’t exactly take a mega-genius to figure it out.

So, Iida also had to have known all of this. And Ochako knew he would not be using that knowledge responsibly. It had taken her longer to figure it out than Iida likely did, but she got it now and she would be damned if a friend of hers was killed on her watch. So, she took to the rooftops. While there would be a risk of missing them in her rush, she just didn’t have the speed or mobility to race around the alleyways on the ground. Bouncing off the walls would only have made her nausea worse, and she would not have lasted nearly as long as she was now. By soaring across the tops of buildings, she could reinstate her gravity for a moment at the crest of her jump and give herself a short break before she’d approach the ground, reactivate, and push off again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best she could do. And, eventually, it worked.

She found them.

Ochako was high above the alley when she caught sight of Iida’s white armor, and only had a few spare moments before she would pass by them and need to double back. With the practiced ease of a teenager, she slipped out her old phone and sent a rushed message along with her location to all of her contacts. The message simply read “SOS.” 

Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, she focused on processing the situation below her in the split second she spent putting her phone away and raising her hands. There were four people total. One was alone and leaned against a wall, in an outfit that suggested a hero costume. Iida was in a similar position, but much closer to the other two. One was standing near Iida, facing him and dressed in an all-black ensemble that hid any identifying features, especially from above. And lastly… Stain. Who was about to strike the only other standing person in the alley with his katana. 

Ochako barely had time to see that before she was releasing her quirk and dropping like a stone back to Earth. It was definitely the adrenaline and the hero-driven urge to save that person, whoever they were, but she just let herself fall. It wasn’t like Ochako was fifty stories off the ground, but later she would be terrified at the fact that if she had missed, even a little, she’d probably have broken so many bones.

Thankfully, that wasn’t what happened. She rocketed towards the ground, positioning herself to land directly on Stain to hopefully KO him right off the bat. Thank every god out there, Ochako’s target hit home. She crashed into Stain, weakly activating her quirk one last time to immediately bounce off of him again to avoid any retribution. She barely pushed off into the air, but she hit an accidental flip before she managed to release and get herself back on the ground. She landed right in her recently-learned Gunhead Martial Arts stance, ready for battle. She just hoped that her heaving breaths and shaking limbs weren’t as obvious to everyone else. 

Once she finished shoving the nausea down, she was able to process her surroundings again, which the adrenaline once again assisted her in doing. The presumed hero was a little further down the alley just as before, Iida was rising from where he had been sitting against the wall, the unfamiliar person was standing next to Iida, and Stain was across from her on the ground. He was not out, though, so Ochako didn’t relax one bit. The villain rose quickly, immediately launching forward to pay her back for her attack. Ochako may have been training in hand to hand more, and by extension her reaction time had definitely improved, but she was nowhere near fast enough to react to Stain’s many-years-earned skill. She barely even had a moment to stumble in surprise, but before she was killed the hooded person was in front of her and blocking Stain’s twin knives with a pair of their own.

“Onryou…” Stain said, his voice layered with an array of emotions that Ochako did not currently have the time to even try to comprehend. “Your potential should not be wasted here. Do not make me cut you down.”

Onryou, so this person seemed to be called, scoffed. “Like you could,” they said, voice clearly altered by some sort of filter. “You are an uppity, pretentious prick who thinks he’s somehow more right than every other deranged, hero-obsessed asshole just cause he mains All Might.”

With that, they were thrown into a furious battle. Ochako wanted to find some way to assist, but for one, she was clearly outclassed, and for two, she had no clue who she would be fighting. She knew she was against Stain, but she had no idea who this Onryou was. Would they fight her if she interfered? She didn’t want to risk that.

So, Ochako did what she knew how to do. She went to the victims. She stopped by the slumped hero, keeping a careful eye on Iida. The hero wasn’t unconscious, and was able to inform her that he was a pero-hero called Native and that he was currently paralyzed thanks to Stain’s quirk, though he didn’t know the trigger. He said that Onryou’s allegiance was unclear, but they had a grudge against Stain. The hero spoke in the curt, quick way that heroes did when they needed to concisely relay information in situations such as this, and Ochako nodded in acknowledgement when he finished and assured her that his other non-paralytic injuries were superficial and that Iida had a semi-severe shoulder injury. Ochako nodded, absorbing this as she crept past the whirl of action that was Stain and Onryou to get to Iida, across the alley from Native.

While there was a reactive and concerned part of her that wanted to take Iida by the shoulders, shake him so hard that his brain would scramble like an egg, then pull him into an inescapable hug because how dare that idiot do something so stupid, the more rational side of her knew that it was not the time. Now was the time to take care of the victims, even if they were a pro-hero and hero-in-training, and escape, leaving the villain and the unknown to duke it out. Prioritize the rescue, as Thirteen always said.

When she reached Iida, she crouched and pulled him down with her. He had been standing there dumbly, staring at the fight in front of him with a mix of wild emotions in his eyes. Still, now was not the time to address that. Ochako didn’t know first aid and how to deal with shock really, barely the basics, but she did know that it would make this situation ten times worse if Iida were in shock and unable to support himself at least a little. Ochako was getting stronger, but she was not going to be able to pick up her much taller classmate in his full, armored costume. 

Luckily, Iida responded to being shifted, blinking out of whatever trance he had been in. When his clouded gaze met hers, Ochako felt overwhelmed for a moment, the reality seeping in through the flimsy hold she had on her composure. So much was happening, and both she and her best friend were in possibly deadly peril. There was so much she didn’t know about everything going on, and she had almost died like two times, already. Shaking herself and brushing away those thoughts, Ochako solidified her drive and spoke curtly and clearly, like how Native had, but a bit slower for Iida’s sake.

“Iida, can you hear me? Are you lucid? Are you badly hurt?” As she asked her questions Iida answered them with two nods and a shake of the head. “Okay, here’s the plan. We’re going to get Native in between us with his arms around our shoulders, and get out. I sent a distress signal, but the other heroes are preoccupied.” Ochako was pretty sure that Iida knew that last part, but she couldn’t be completely sure. 

Sure that Iida had heard her, Ochako rose to go to Native. But, before she could get back to her feet, Iida’s hand was closing around her wrist and pulling her down again. She fell back into her crouch and sent Iida a questioning look.

“I… I inherited Ingenium’s name… It’s my job to…” Iida looked distraught, speaking like a slowly fracturing mantra, his words crumbling into debris even as he tried to force them to cooperate.

Ochako’s previous worry and pity hardened into something sharper, and her eyes narrowed. Before she spoke, she paused, taking in her best friend’s disheveled appearance. His missing glasses, the blood on his armor, his wrecked expression. She saw someone who was in more than just physical danger. No, even if she pulled him out of the way of a knife or stood between him and Stain, she wouldn’t be able to save him in the way that really mattered. Ochako would need to speak to him, really and truly go deeper than all of that.

But, a clang from the fight right beside them cut through her thoughts, and Ochako knew that now was not the time.

“Iida. We need to save Native, and I need to save you. We can’t die here.”

Iida flinched, but his eyes seemed to clear a little. He gave her a small, determined nod after one last moment of hesitation. Working in unison, the two crept across the alley and over to Native.

“Fake heroes must be torn down for society to improve!” Stain was spitting now, ducking under a slash from Onryou. The two had been periodically trading arguments as well as blows, but Ochako had been largely tuning them out. Perhaps that wasn't the best idea, as she could have gathered information from it, but she could only handle so much at a time. Now she allowed her attention to drift over to them, if only to make sure she and Iida weren’t drawing any attention to themselves. She was quickly caught up in the rhythm of their fight, awed by the speed and agility of both Onryou and Stain.

The Hero Killer clearly moved with purpose and skill, obviously quite used to the dirty fights of the streets. Stain wielded his blades with a sort of reverence and respect for the weapons that spoke of the type of fanatic he clearly was. His knives were thrown, but not without clear intent and power behind them. Unlike how heroes tended to fight, like each resource was replenishable, he fought like every knife was his last. While still staying mobile and ready to pick up and dodge, he planted his feet to keep his stance strong and immovable to Onryou’s clear attempts to push him into a corner.

Speaking of Onryou, they were much more mobile. They jumped around like a rabbit, even using their sturdy opponent as a board to push off of more than once. They were agile in a way Ochako had never seen before, twisting and maneuvering around every punch or stab or flying knife. They treated every blow aimed at them with weight, like every single one would kill if it connected. And maybe, for all Ochako knew, it would. She knew that Stain’s quirk could paralyze someone, but not how. Perhaps a single punch would lead to paralyzation, and that was almost a death sentence in of itself. Either way, if Stain’s fighting was reminiscent of a dirty street fight, Onryou’s was like one you’d expect from a rigged to-the-death cage fight. Still devastatingly brutal, but with the extra edge of being used to every opponent being larger and impossibly stronger. 

Now, Ochako did not have the words to describe much of any of this. She didn’t know the intricacies of fighting styles yet, and would not be able to articulate exactly how Stain and Onryou’s methods were both raw in a way that only came from learning from experience. But what she did know was that this was so much more ruthless and gritty and tightly-laced than any hero vs villain battle she had ever seen. Just seeing it shifted her entire perception of fighting, and in that moment she realized that every one of those battles had been so much more exaggerated performance than she had ever fully considered. 

“You stuck-up asshole!” Onryou growled, rebounding to kick Stain’s left knee, hard. It didn’t buckle Stain’s leg like Onryou might have been hoping for, but the man was clearly not left unaffected either. “Killing them just makes them martyrs! You need to expose them first, dumbass!” How were they having a conversation while fighting like this?

Noting Stain’s new weakness, Onryou attempted to target that leg again. Stain swiftly shifted so he wasn’t there to receive the deadly kick that got there milliseconds after his dodge. 

“And yet you preach of killing All Might, you foolish child!”

Onryou scoffed, their leg slamming to the ground in the shadow of their failed kick. Their back was to Stain, but they were far from unattentive enough to let the villain take advantage of it. In fact, they took advantage of the position to twist to the side, their knife swinging at Stain’s face.

“He’s fucking untouchable! I could prove every reason why that idiot deserves to be buried alive and no one would ever– ”

Stain reeled back to avoid the knife, but that was what Onryou had evidently wanted. Using their previous momentum, they pulled their lower half around and attempted yet another sweep with the knife in their other hand.

“ –fucking– ”

Ochako suddenly realized that Onryou was using their attack to push back Stain, the villain being forced to move away again to avoid every next slash.

“ –believe me! ”

But this was the Hero Killer, and he did not let this stand for long. Stain brought his katana up in an impressive display of speed and reaction time, blocking Onryou’s third knife thrust. The knife shook in its place against the katana, pushing but gaining no more ground. But then Onryou leaned in instead of bouncing back like Ochako had been expecting, and suddenly no one in the alley was immune to the strangest feeling of pressure weighing them all down as Onryou spoke again.

“All Might is untouchable. He is exactly what is wrong with hero society. If he hurt someone, some civilian that did nothing wrong, it would be swept under the rug. If he murdered someone in cold blood, the Commission would cover it up. He is untouchable, and that hero worship will be our downfall. ” 

Onryou leaned in even more, their voice dripping with a venom that paralyzed Ochako in a way she would liken to being trapped in a Todoroki iceberg, but directly laced through her veins. The aura that radiated off of them commanded all to sit down and listen. And it was impossible not to listen. Their words were electric, and filled with a conviction that had Ochako actually pausing to fully consider their point. And what a point it was. Because, truly, Onryou wasn’t exactly wrong. Ochako would want to believe otherwise, and she knew that All Might and the other heroes would never do something truly bad, but… if they did, could she truly say that they’d be punished to the extent of the law? Especially someone as revered as All Might. Regardless of the reality that he’d never do anything horrible, if he theoretically did, then who would dare to speak out against him? Who would dare to try to pursue justice in opposition to such a force of nature? And while other heroes weren’t nearly as revered as the Symbol of Peace, the same logic stood. Heroes were powerful, larger-than-life people. As Onryou had said, untouchable.

It seemed that Ochako wasn’t the only one stricken by Onryou. From where she was crouched next to Native she could only just barely make out Stain’s face in the low lighting. But, it was enough. The villain had an expression of reverent glee, similar to what Ochako had seen in his treatment of his weapons earlier, but so much more. The Hero Killer also seemed oddly unfocused, almost like he wasn’t even really noticing what Onryou was actually saying. Like he was just devoutly fascinated by Onryou themself. 

“You… are truly filled with potential,” Stain said in the following silence. Then, like he was waking up from the trance, he continued. “But you need to reevaluate your opinions of All Might.”

This was very clearly not the right thing to say, at least not if you wanted to avoid incurring more of Onryou’s wrath. With a snarl they surged forward, dragging their knife to the side and bringing Stain’s katana with it, making them an opening to swoop in with their other knife. Maybe it was because of Onryou’s pressure from before, the one that had frozen everyone else, or maybe it was because the knife had already been so close to him. No matter the reason, Stain was not going to be able to dodge in time. And it was going to be a killing blow.

Ochako, not in control of her own body, lept onto her feet as if to interfere. But she wasn’t the one with a speed quirk, and Iida was there long before she would have been. 

Iida crashed into both Stain and Onryou, the sweep of his leg causing Stain to recoil, a noticeably long tongue flicking out of his mouth with the movement. Onryou jumped back, fast but not fast enough to avoid their right forearm getting clipped. Ochako knew very well how painful Iida’s kicks were, and was surprised to not hear any noises of pain. 

Suddenly Ochako was glad she had jolted upwards because it meant she was standing and ready to rush in when she noticed Iida suddenly going limp midair. Pure instinct drove her as she managed to grab Iida’s ankle and activate her quirk just in time to pull him away from Stain’s katana, which soon occupied the space where Iida had just been. Ochako didn’t want to just drop Iida, but she was going to have to. She had sent him towards Native, thankfully, so she deactivated her quirk and let him fall practically on the hero’s lap. 

But now… Ochako swallowed as she realized where exactly she stood now. Behind her were two people, one hero and one hero student, completely incapacitated and unable to aid her. In front of her was one serial killer and one unknown that she just aggravated. She was not fluent in battle yet. If the other two standing decided to team up on her, she would probably be killed. Immediately. 

Now, Ochako hated to do this, but she couldn’t accept defeat before she even tried to fight. She needed a motivator. So she channeled Bakugou and made an internal declaration: fuck those odds. She was going to save her friend and that hero. She was not going to die. She was going to be a fucking hero, and she was not going to let some asshole extras end her here!

Boots scraping the ground, Ochako widened her stance, crouching into a pose reminiscent of a wrestler. Her eyebrows furrowed in determination, and her mouth screwed into a firm line. A few paces from her stood Stain, just staring. Onryou stood somewhat away from the both of them, forming a triangle between their trio. It felt like some sort of standoff, the tension rising with every moment that no one moved.

Onryou broke the stillness, darting at Stain with no warning. Stain, reacting immediately, jumped away and towards Ochako. She ducked under the knife that Stain sent her way, rushing forward carefully. The Hero Killer had way too many knives for Ochako to be able to disarm, but she had been learning for the past few days how to work around a knife user. She was significantly less versed in how to use one herself, but she did know that anyone could be dangerous with a knife, regardless of skill level. She would have grabbed the knife that Stain had thrown at her, but that was just it. He had thrown it, and as far as Ochako knew it was next to impossible to catch a knife out of midair, let alone at her level of expertise. Point was, she could maybe get her hands on one of Stain’s knives and be more of a threat.

There was also her quirk that she could use. But, while Ochako could touch one of her opponents and send them skywards, she wouldn’t be able to stop them without straight-up dropping them. Maybe she could throw one of them into a wall then release her quirk. But who? Both, maybe? Ochako was suddenly hit with the fact that her only weapon was her quirk, while these two criminals were stocked with plenty of non-quirk-resulted equipment. Sure, she didn’t know what Onryou’s quirk was, so maybe the knives were a part of their or Stain’s quirk, but the effect was the same. Ochako was left relatively unarmed in the face of one deadly villain and one wildcard. It was not a good situation to be in, that much was obvious.

Cursing her lack of foresight in her weaponry, Ochako decided just to go for it. As Stain brandished a large dagger to defend himself, Onryou took advantage of his preoccupation and sent a mighty punch towards the villain. The glint of metal on their fists told of brass knuckles, and while Stain did move away, he was caught between a rock and a hard place and Onryou’s fist managed to graze over Stain’s cheek. Blood was left in its wake, and Ochako just barely managed to avoid that large dagger sweeping towards her neck in a moment of distraction.

While she may have dodged the first swing, she did not have time to dodge the second. Stain’s bloodthirsty eyes somehow shone in the dark alley, the light hitting them just right as he lunged for her. Her foot skidded behind her as she tried to hop back, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough. But it seemed that in her fear she had forgotten someone, because Onryou hit Stain with a brutal steel-toed boot to the ribs right as Ochako was about to be killed. Stain was thrown back towards the wall, grunting in pain at the impact. Onryou landed right beside Ochako already in a fight-ready pose. They were next to her, in a way that suggested that they were on the same side. Ochako glanced at them, and was surprised to see that they had been looking at her already.

The first thing she noticed were their eyes. Ochako, up to this point, had barely registered what any of these people she didn’t know looked like. Stain was Stain, the hero killer, and he was as creepy as one would imagine. His whole getup was also somewhat expected from a serial killer, all very red and armed to the teeth, but again Ochako hadn’t bothered to fully examine any of it besides the amount of weapons. But that also all meant that Ochako hadn’t really seen Onryou. They were in all black, wearing a practical coat that reached just to their thighs and blocky combat boots. The other things were also expected; hood up, black pants, dark gray high-neck, and a tactical vest-harness thingy under the coat. A mechanical-looking but streamlined gas-type mask covered their lower face. That only left their eyes open. Still, those eyes were so expressive. Ochako could see them asking for a truce, just with the inquiring tilt to their brows and the glow of that viridian gaze. It also took her aback how off it seemed. Perhaps there was something with Onryou’s quirk that was causing it, but Ochako just felt an overwhelming sense of wrongness looking at their eyes. Somehow, even while being bright, there was a strange static to them. Like they were a person possessed.

But there wasn’t any time to analyze any of that, and Ochako snapped herself out of her reverie almost immediately. She nodded at Onryou, confirming a truce, and the two of them turned back to Stain, this time on the same page. The enemy of her enemy was her friend this time, it seemed. 

Now they just had to defeat the Hero Killer. 

It was right of Ochako to assume that Stain would not be defeated by Onryou’s savage kick, as the villain seemed to already be recovered. He jumped then kicked off the wall, similarly to how Onryou had been moving around before. 

The move may have been impressive, but Onryo, using the other wall, mirrored it one-to-one. The clang of metal on metal filled the alley as the two collided, their weapons clashing before they were sliding past each other and landing. Ochako was unlucky enough to be right next to Stain when he touched down, the villain taking advantage of the situation to stab at her with a dagger. Her earlier indecisiveness forgotten, Ochako reached out and attempted to narrowly glance away from the knife, making a grab at Stain’s arm. Stain slid away in time to avoid her hand wrapping around his wrist, but not in time to avoid her fingers brushing against it. He hadn’t known to avoid it, and that was his mistake.

Instantly, Stain was weightless. He seemed to startle and stumble at the change in his gravity, very much taken off guard. His struggling got him up into the air, but before he could accidentally float away there was a familiar capture weapon wrapping around him. A rush of relief and confusion ran through Ochako as she glanced around, reflexively looking for wherever Aizawa-sensei had to be. She was surprised to see that the weapon hadn’t been from him at all, her eyes landing once again on Onryou. 

The clash from before must have ripped Onryou’s sleeves, because they were both ragged and much shorter, revealing the source of the Aizawa-like capture weapon. It was like Aizawa-sensei’s scarf had been split into two and each half wrapped around each of Onryou’s forearms. They were using the one wrapped around their left arm to restrain Stain.

The villain growled, about to speak, but Onryou beat him to it, speaking flatly at Ochako. “You’ll try to stop me again if I try to kill him.”

It wasn’t said like a question, but it did shock Ochako into hero-mode. Her spine stiffened and she brought her shoulders back defiantly. “Yes, I will,” she said, willing away any intimidation or fear from her tone. 

Onryou sighed heavily, but before anything else could happen the sound of fast footsteps and a skidding from the mouth of the alley had all the occupants looking to it. Ochako turned to see Todorok and Shinsou, the Gen-Ed student that had won the Sports Festival. The two were in ready fighting positions, and Shinsou was noticeably out of breath. When Ochako heard movement behind her, she cursed herself for looking away from any enemy, even one who had just been helping her.

While Ochako had been distracted, Onryou had lept into action. Ochako managed to just catch the last moments of Onryou’s sharp turn. They used the momentum to slam Stain into the ground, knocking him out cold and most likely breaking multiple of his bones.

From behind her, Ochako heard a sharp intake of breath. She, already accustomed to the brutal nature of this fight, only narrowed her eyes and strengthened her stance, releasing her quirk. Stain’s unconscious body had rebounded off the ground, the zero gravity about to send him soaring again, but Onryou placed a boot on his back to keep him down. Keeping her quirk activated would have been pointless. 

Onryou’s arm rose, their knife glinting in the low light and about to be plunged into Stain’s neck. Ochako was already rushing forward, but just like before she wasn’t the fastest one there. Ice sprang up towards Onryou, and they quickly dropped their attack just in time to dodge the spike of ice by rebounding off the walls. Impressively, they managed to land right on top of the ice, crouched with gloved hands keeping them steady. Even with their face mostly covered, their body language showed they were clearly unhappy with this development. While they had been moving, Shinsou and Todoroki had rushed forward to stand their ground next to Ochako. Stain was on the ground, still completely out, a few feet in front of them.

“Why are you protecting him? He’s a serial killer,” Onryou said exasperatedly, though there was more anger-charged annoyance laced through their voice than anything as innocent as simple exasperation. 

“Killing people is wrong, even killing bad people,” Ochako shot back. 

“But what about those who would never be punished?” Onryou said, the exasperation evaporated. Now, boiling wrath took its place. Ochako was reminded of Onryou’s points from earlier. They weren’t talking about Stain anymore, were they?

“But–” Iida tried to cut in from his awkward position slumped next to Native.

Onryou leaned forward on their perch, practically spitting their words. “ No. What about those who could wiggle out of any and all consequences? What about those favored by society that will always, always be favored?”

(If he hurt someone, some civilian that did nothing wrong, it would be swept under the rug. If he murdered someone in cold blood, the Commission would cover it up.

He is untouchable, and that hero worship will be our downfall.)

Just like before, all of them were caught in Onryou’s weighted presence. No one moved, just stared up at the person that was pinning them in place with nothing but their striking viridian gaze. Their eyes narrowed into slits as they hissed their next words.

“What about the heroes that hurt us?”

Chapter Text

Aizawa Shouta didn’t exactly regret going to Hosu. He stood by his choice to attempt some form of supervision regarding Iida. But shit had gone downhill with him there anyway and now he had to deal with the aftermath directly, as opposed to remotely from UA, and it was exhausting. 

First off, Iida had gone off the rails and attempted to hunt down Stain. That was not exactly surprising per say, but it was certainly not convenient to deal with, even setting aside the horror and fear that Shouta had to hide from his students. The very idea of one of them dying while under his care, even despite the internships technically placing them under a different hero’s vigilance, was something that made him go cold. He was furious at Iida, yes, but more than that he was just so goddamn relieved that it hadn’t ended in a death. There would very much still be consequences, though. He had half a mind to expel the boy, if it weren’t for the horrible conditions he had been through since the year barely started. Not to mention the public relations side of things; Shouta had already expelled two students this year, and while normally that wouldn’t deter him, with the League of Villains out and about, he was more cautious. It was just a messy situation all around. So Iida would just be punished, not expelled. 

Secondly, his other students. Shouta had a sneaking suspicion that Uraraka had absolutely not gotten permission to use her quirk or fight the fucking Hero Killer, but Gunhead insisted that he gave her the allowance to assist victims and get people out of the way of the danger. The other hero argued that she stepped into the fight in an admittedly foolish attempt to save Iida, still under the blanket permission to protect, then fought back in self-defense. Shouta, while severely doubting that it occurred in that exact way, could at least appreciate her attempt to call for backup with that distress signal. Though it was not majorly wise to send it to all of her contacts, she was likely working on a time crunch and didn’t have an official hero panic button, and as such could be excused. What Shouta could not excuse and did not appreciate was his interns running off to follow that distress signal alone. He had been busy accompanying the other heroes in containing the noumu and pulling away any still unevacuated citizens, having ordered his students to stay back and assist paramedics. Clearly, they had not listened. 

At the very least they had alerted a hero being treated nearby that there had been an urgent distress call from a friend of theirs nearby, asking for heroes to be sent there when it was possible before running off. Shouta was somewhat thankful that Shinsou and Todoroki were at least smart enough to do that, because Uraraka’s message would not have beaten out the chaos going on around all of the noumu. Those two were a large reason the heroes got there sooner rather than later.

Though, Shouta knew that there was definitely more to whatever went on then he knew as of now. He had been one of the first heroes to arrive at Uraraka's location, his quirk having no use against the multiple noumu after his assistance with the initial panic when they first appeared. He still could have continued in the fight, sure, but Endeavor was going for each of the noumu’s heads with a vengeance and the other heroes were moving things along quite nicely. So he stepped off to focus more on serving first aid and helping with the civilian wrangling. Then he noticed that his interns were nowhere to be seen. That was when he had the first inkling that something was wrong, and his suspicions were confirmed not a moment later. A hero with a broken arm was going around and telling every unoccupied hero that two kids claiming to be interns were asking for assistance at an SOS call. From there, Shouta and a few others had run off to the street address that the hero gave them. 

The alley was deep in the labyrinth of streets that this city was, but thanks to Shouta taking to the roofs he was able to spot the alley that very clearly had a large amount of ice in it and alert his colleagues. When he dropped in next to his students, the person perched on the top of the ice jolted and immediately ran. Shouta’s instinct had been to follow them, but his students were already swarming him and tugging him over to the other two people in the alley, Native and Iida. From there the other heroes had arrived and everyone was shuttled to the hospital. Stain especially had to be rushed there, having multiple broken ribs. 

That night the students were treated and allowed to get some sleep. Shouta, on the other hand, had no such rest. He was stuck filling out his report, then being shoved into a meeting, then forced to endure a ten-minute hug from Hizashi before the hero had to run off back to his own duties. Okay, that last part wasn’t too bad, but it was still time keeping him from passing out in his sleeping bag. He finally did manage to get two hours of sleep, curled up on a spare couch. He refused to take up a hospital bed that someone more injured could be using, that was illogical. His few burns had already been treated, after all.

When the sun rose the next day, his four reckless students were healed. Surprisingly, only Iida and Uraraka were actually injured. Uraraka was suffering from some pretty severe quirk overuse and the general scratches and scuffs that came from a fight, along with some non-quirk-related exhaustion that had been staved off by adrenaline alone, but was miraculously not stabbed. Iida wasn't as lucky. He had a major stab wound in his shoulder, and multiple other various cuts and bruises.

That morning, Detective Tsukauchi arrived at the hospital to sit down with each of them and got their accounts of last night’s events. And afterwards, with a cup of blessed coffee in hand, he went over each report with Shouta at the police station. After the detective finished his summarizing, Shouta placed his own coffee down on the table with a resounding thump.

“So,” Shouta paused momentarily to pick up and skim through the copies that Tsukauchi had given him, then looked up to meet the man’s eyes. “Uravity technically could argue that she was acting under Gunhead’s permissions.”

Tsukauchi nodded. “And that makes it that much more difficult to spin. If we tell the full truth about what happened, it could cause more distrust in heroes, which is especially not ideal considering the likelihood of Stain being associated with the League of Villains.”

“The media would also likely focus far too much on her, painting a target on her back.” 

Tsukauchi winced at the idea, returning his gaze to the file in his hands.

“And then there’s that other person…” Tsukauchi flipped another page. “Onryou. The students’ description of Onryou is all consistent, but we have yet to get anything from Stain due to his injuries requiring him to be under sedation. Still, an unknown isn’t good to have in whatever statement we give the public.”

“And if we wait to give a statement, the public gets antsy. But if we give one now, it would be flaky and cobbled at best.” Shouta sighed, placing the file back on the table and crossing his arms. “This is why I went underground. All of this publicity bullshit is exhausting.”

Tsukauchi chuckled wryly. “Yeah, I need to talk this through with the PR team. I just figured you’d want to know, considering that these are your students.”

“Thanks for that. They’ve already been through far too much,” Shouta said sincerely, giving Tsukauchi a rare smile.

The detective only huffed humbly. “Just doing what I can.”

From there, Shouta left the police station to head back over to the hospital. After all, now that the kids were all healed and rested, it was time for two things: for Shouta to see them with his own eyes to convince his brain to stop being in worried overdrive, and for them be thoroughly scolded by their teacher. As Shouta approached the hospital room his students were all in, he slowed his steps and strained his ears a little to catch what they were saying so he could time his entrance right. He didn’t exactly want to eavesdrop, but he also knew that this hospital had pretty thin walls and he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make a dramatic entrance.

As for why all of them were in one room, the answer was simple: trauma bonding. Shinsou and Todoroki hadn’t needed any treatment, but they had refused to leave Uraraka and Iida as soon as they were finished with their initial aid. And those latter two had wanted to stick together, being best friends, so while they hadn’t slept or been treated in the same place, Urarka had managed to worm her way into the boys’ room to hang out as soon as things were more calm. Even though Shouta was sure that the four had been just two pairs of friends with no real connections to the other pair before, they seemed to want to be near each other much more viciously, now. 

Uraraka’s voice faded into Shouta’s perceptible range as he came closer to the door. “…just, I’ve been focusing on my physical strength and technique, but after that fight… I need more stamina and especially more tactics on top of everything else. I was just so outclassed,” she said, sounding unreasonably upset by her perceived weakness against two very skilled villains. Shouta would need to somehow fit in a pep talk (damn, he hated those) into his scolding. Great. Reflection and self-critique was one thing, but he couldn’t let his students fall into the trap of excessively beating themselves up; it was bad for their mental health and was, of course, illogical. 

“Uraraka, if there is someone who was outclassed, it was I,” Iida said, still firm like usual but a noticeable amount softer. And more self-deprecating. Shouta needed to give two pep-talks, then. Aside from the extra scolding that Iida was going to get for scaring the fuck out of his teacher for going after a serial killer. “I was bested by Stain in an instant, and was next to no help for the rest of the fight. I was the one who went after him, as well.”

“We should have arrived sooner.” Todoroki was blunt and deadpan as ever while Shinsou make a sound of agreement, and fucking hell were all of Shouta’s students going to need a pep talk? Todoroki and Shinsou were a large reason the heroes had arrived when they did, and who knows what could have happened otherwise? They had been stupid to go in the first place! Ugh, Shouta really was going to need to talk …feelings… with them. 

Before the kids could continue to beat themselves up, Shouta knocked on the door twice then pushed it open when he received an affirmative call from Iida. As soon as he stepped into the room, he could tell that this was going to be a… difficult conversation. His students looked at him like kicked puppies, prepared to be scolded and suitably ashamed. Or, on Todoroki’s end, defiant. He didn’t look one bit sorry.

“If not for your special circumstances, I’d expel all of you,” Shouta started, brutally blunt as soon as the door shut behind him. “You all rushed into a fight with a far more experienced opponent, one willing to kill. You ran away from your supervisors, defying orders, and you all were almost killed as a result. You all did some incredibly stupid things.”

Iida looked utterly miserable and like he completely understood the gravity of the situation. Uraraka appeared to be scolded, but unrepentant. She and Iida were best friends, so Shouta was not surprised to see that she didn’t regret jumping in if it was to save him. Shinsou was nervous and abashed, likely worried that this would affect his placement in the hero course. Todoroki seemed like he was gearing up for an outburst in favor of his classmates and friend.

With a deep sigh, Shouta continued before Todoroki could start an actual argument. “But, I realize that the situation was not simple.”

The kids all straightened up at Shouta’s veer in tone.

“Iida, your brother’s injury, while not any excuse for your actions, did end his career as a hero, a hero you idolized. While you should have spoken to a friend or an adult, I understand your state of mind was not sound. Uraraka, you haven’t yet been given a panic button, so you did what you could with that SOS. You should not have jumped in, of course, but you were emotionally compromised and not fully trained. Shinsou and Todoroki, you two should not have disobeyed my direct orders. In fact, you two are the ones I’m most disappointed in after Iida. You disobeyed direct orders. I cannot stress how dangerous that is in a professional heroic setting. You two could have been killed. But, at the very least, you alerted a hero to the situation directly.

“So yes, you all did things you shouldn’t have. I am not excusing you for your mistakes, or stating that I fully agree with any one of your idiotic actions last night. You all messed up, and will have detention for at least four to six weeks. But, most of all, you’re young. You’re students; I don’t expect you to handle every situation perfectly, just for you to do your absolute best. If I didn’t think you were cut out to learn how to be heroes, I would have expelled you on the first day.”

As Shouta spoke, his students all seemed to slack in surprise. To his horror, Uraraka and Iida were teary-eyed. But Todoroki appeared placated, and Shinsou seemed less like his cat just died. So mission accomplished, Shouta supposed. After quickly informing his students how they were all going to be visited by the police later to sort out further details with their internships and the official story, Shouta fled the room before things could get any more emotional while he was still within twenty meters of the place.

He was just glad none of them tried to hug him.

The story that the public received went like this:

During the noumu attack on Hosu, a hero student came across the Hero Killer attacking the hero called Native. The hero student called for help, and the heroes came and arrested Stain. The heroes that teamed up to achieve this included The Fly, Gunhead, and other underground heroes whose names were omitted as according to the Underground Heroes Safety Act.

Shouto felt that the story was annoyingly fake. 

While he and the others hadn’t been given more information about anything or anyone, they had been informed that Stain was alive and in custody, while Onryou was still being hunted. It was also now confirmed, thanks to Stain, that Onryou was a part of the League of Villains. Aizawa-sensei told them that normally students wouldn’t be given such information, but due to their association with the League, it was best for them to know that Onryou was much more enemy than friend than they had originally thought, so they wouldn’t be too foolish to trust him later down the line. 

Shouto felt that there was more to it than that.

But he, seeing no need to stir the pot for no reason, didn’t say anything. Not until later, when he was on call with the others the night before their return to UA. He, Shinsou, and Uraraka had been allowed to go back to their internships, while Iida had been confined to the hospital then sent home for the rest of the week. Uraraka had gotten out the day after Shouto and Shinsou, giving her two more days of interning, and them three. Uraraka was given two weeks of detention, Shouto and Shinsou had four, and Iida had six.

For the rest of their internships, Shouto and Shinsou had been shifted from half field experience and half training to especially brutal full-time training. It was difficult and strenuous, but on the positive side of things, Shouto had gotten significantly better at controlling his fire. Shinsou said that it felt like every muscle on his body decided to just die. Shouto agreed. 

Even with the physical strain, it had been some of the most fulfilling training Shouto had ever experienced. Aizawa-sensei had seemed to know exactly when too far was too far, even when Shouto himself had no idea. Endeavor had always been about pushing past Shouto’s limit and berated him when he fell short. Aizawa-sensei had corrected him with gruff advice and sharp takedowns, but he was never as harsh, or as cruel, as Endeavor had been. Shouto decided he quite liked it. He was even a bit sad to leave the man’s home when the time came. 

Speaking of which, Aizawa-sensei’s apartment. It was a normal place, somewhat large according to Shinsou, and surprisingly warm. From the mismatched but well-loved furniture to the multiple cat trees, the very furnishing was so much more homely than Shouto would have expected from his teacher. The two cats were nice. Bombshell the tuxedo cat was a bit mischievous, but the ginger Cockatoo was a, “walking disaster,” as Aizawa-sensei put it. There weren’t too many photos around, but there were suspiciously empty places and hooks on the walls where Shouto expected that they had been. In fact, Shouto suspected that his teacher lived with someone else that had just stayed somewhere else for the week. Aside from the number of items that would only be truly practical to have if there were two people living in the place, Shouto also firmly believed that, left to his own devices, his teacher would barely, if at all, decorate. The man was definitely not one to bother with fake plants, that was for sure. 

Even Shinsou had agreed with Shouto on that one. Sadly, Shinsou doubled down that he was not the other occupant, and that he was not related to Aizawa-sensei. Shouto thought that Shinsou at least thought that he was being honest, but he was certain that there was shared blood there. Perhaps Shinsou had been a teen pregnancy, and neither Aizawa-sensei or the other parent could take care of him. Regardless, it was more probable that Aizawa-sensei’s current roommate was a romantic partner. Shinsou and Shouto had shared the guest bedroom, which was the only room with a bed besides Aizawa-sensei’s room. They hadn’t been allowed to see that room, obviously, so it was completely possible that there was room for someone else there. 

Still, setting aside his theories, Shouto was sad to go. He would miss the apartment, as well as the company. Aizawa-sensei, Shinsou, and the cats had been a delight to live with. 

“I’m happy to hear your internship was productive, Uraraka!” Shouto tuned back into the conversation the others had been having over the phone. They were discussing their internships, all slightly avoiding what had happened with Stain for Iida’s sake, if anything. 

Instead of replying like expected, Uraraka was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, she was serious. “I… I’m sorry to bring this up, but… what did you all think? Of what Onryou said?”

Ah. 

What about the heroes that hurt us?

That was… a matter that Shouto had thought about. The first night after Shouto and Shinsou returned to Aizawa-sensei’s apartment, they had spoken about it. As two people with complicated emotions on the matter, they had both had a lot to say and think about when it came to Onryou’s last argument. It had been largely agreement. But, still raw about the topic, they had shifted into theorizing on Aizawa-sensei yet again. (By theorizing, Shouto meant that he explained his theories and reasons to Shinsou, who refused every single one.)

At the silence that met her question, Uraraka continued nervously. “Even before Shinsou and Todoroki showed up, he said a lot of things that just… got me thinking. He… he talked about hating All Might, but like… He said that, no matter what All Might did, that he’d get off scot-free. That the, uh, hero-worship ‘will be our downfall.’ I don't think that All Might would do anything bad, but… He wasn’t really… wrong, was he?”

She rushed to elaborate, self-consciously rising to her own defense despite the lack of opposition. “Again, I don’t think that All Might or any of the heroes would do anything super wrong! But, there’s more than just good people and at least one hero has probably done something bad. And like… do you really think that they’d be punished fairly? It’s just, I don’t know. I don’t…” She trailed off.

“No, you’re right,” Shinsou said. “If a hero hurt someone, it would probably sooner be covered up than pursued.”

Iida’s rule-abiding franticness was palpable, even through a phone call. Shouto just knew his arms were chopping wildly. “I can understand admiring Stain’s convictions, but this is disrespectful to speak about in such length!”

“Iida,” Uraraka tried, “we’re just discussing.”

“It is still improper to imply that heroes would do something as horrible as covering up, let alone commiting crimes! Those are the kinds of excuses that enabled Stain’s killing!” 

“But they are doing that,” Shinsou said sharply.

“We will not be supporting Stain! There is a fine difference between admiring his convictions and letting them lead us astray!” Iida’s voice began to go shrill.

Shinsou almost seemed to growl. “It’s not just ‘Stain’s ideology!’ Some of us have been hurt by heroes, we’re not saying we want them dead! Just that Onryou had a point. ”

“And that point is moot! Heroes who have truly committed crimes would be and are pursued by the law, let alone how the number of heroes making such blunders are miniscule. And regardless of occasional flaws, they still save hundreds of lives! My brother was no such criminal, and Stain still ended his career; conviction aside, his philosophy is overstated and, at worst, downright false!”

“But Iida, we’re talking about Onryou…” Uraraka said hesitantly.

“ Blunders? ” Shinsou sounded absolutely furious, accidentally cutting into Uraraka’s interjection. Shouto could tell he was about to spit out something acidic that he’d surely regret saying. He also felt a cold anger of his own rise at Iida’s arguments. 

“There are plenty of heroes that have committed severe crimes and been shielded due to their status.” Shouto’s voice was icy, and the rising argument froze in an instant. “Despite Onryou’s loyalties and radical ideas, he was right about that. Heroes are… far too powerful. The one thing that he got wrong was that the worship will be our downfall.” 

He hesitated, but ultimately continued. “It’s destroying us from the inside already.”

The others’ silence spoke volumes. Feeling strangely like he needed to show them, to prove to his classmates that there was far more to hero society than they had been led to believe, Shouto went against his typically better judgment. He brushed off Shinsou trying to tell him that he didn’t need to tell them anything, and told them everything.