Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You want me to what now?” Aizawa Shouta, the underground pro-hero Eraserhead, asks his boss, Nedzu. He knew this day was going too smoothly. He even got an extra hour of sleep and Hizashi got more of his favorite jelly packs. While Shouta expelled most of his first year class, he still taught Ethics and helped out with the Hero course training. Even that wasn’t going too badly though.

He should have known that things were going far too smoothly for him. His life, especially since joining as a teacher at UA, loves to throw so many twists and turns that it can, at times, feel like a high-speed roller coaster.

The chimerical principal merely smiles and takes a sip of his tea.

“Go undercover as a student in a junior high.”

Ah.

He did hear Nedzu correctly then.

Shouta honestly thought that he ascended to another plane of existence from sheer force of exhaustion. He didn’t even feel that tired today either. Still, one could always dream, right?

It wasn’t the first time that Shouta was asked to go undercover whether through his own work in underground heroics or by the principal. But as a junior high student?

He feels like he needs to point out that he couldn’t pass as a twelve- to fifteen-year-old. He’s certain that Nedzu had something planned out for him to be able to be a junior high student. He puts nothing past the principal.

However, Shouta will make this process as difficult as possible.

Is he petty? Yes.

“I’m twenty-eight, a pro-hero, a teacher, and don’t look like a junior high student,” Shouta points out because it needs to be said. “I cannot pass as a junior high student. What the hell? This isn’t an American pre-quirk teen drama.”

Nedzu smiles at him from over his teacup.

“All easily remedied! This will count as an undercover case for you. You expelled most of your homeroom and we can arrange a long-term replacement for your Ethics class. And, thanks to a quirk from a former student, we can temporarily revert your body to the age of a thirteen-year-old for your duration undercover!”

Dammit. He knows Nedzu’s quirk allows him to literally think of everything. Sometimes, however, Shouta wishes that it didn’t allow him to literally think of everything.

“I’m not saying yes,” Shouta says slowly, carefully. He has to admit, to himself, that he’s intrigued. “But what’s the case.”

Nedzu smiles like he won.

And dammit, he probably has.

“A first-year student in our Support Department, Akatani Mikumo, came to me with concerns over his former junior high, Aldera. Akatani-kun spent two and a half years at the school but had to transfer out halfway through his third year to complete his schooling elsewhere. He says that he was essentially forced out of the place.”

It’s definitely odd for a student to transfer out so late in the final year of middle school. Though the phrase “forced out of the place” sends a shiver down Shouta’s spine. He thinks of his own elementary and middle school years, how he was harassed and bullied for his quirk. The reasons for the bullying vacillated between it being weak or it being villainous. It was all, however, fairly cruel.

Either way, he didn’t know that competent and caring teachers existed until he hit UA. And while Shouta wouldn’t call himself warm and fuzzy, when his students have potential, the drive, he definitely gives them the tools they need to succeed as heroes.

“And the reason?” he asks, already knowing some of the answer.

“Akatani-kun is quirkless,” Nedzu says, placing his teacup down. His ever-present half-smile disappears into a contemplative frown. Many see Nedzu as a sadistic human hater, which he is for the majority of adults of the generation that abused him, but he does truly care about children. He does truly want to mold the next generation into being better than the previous. Very few things get him as upset as when he has to deal with educational institutions that don’t do right by their students.

“That’s relatively rare in Japan nowadays. Well…for the younger generation anyway. Even when I was growing up,” Shouta says after a moment.

In comparison to the rest of the world, Japan has a lower-than-average quirkless population with most quirkless individuals being relegated to the older generations. The twenty percent quirkless statistic is a global average with other countries having a larger (and younger) quirkless population in comparison. Either way, quirkless kids in Japan tend to be worse off for it with those who make it to adulthood going abroad or faking an invisible quirk to get through their day-to-day lives. Of course, those are the ones who live long enough to get a happy ending.

Nedzu nods, expression still stormy, “He came to me not for himself, but for another quirkless student at his middle school, Midoriya Izuku. While Akatani-kun was able to move in with his aunt and change schools, Midoriya-kun does not have that option. In fact, from what he said, things are worse for the boy.”

Okay, it still doesn’t explain why Nedzu wants Aizawa to take a dip in the Fountain of Youth.

“And the reason you need me under an age regression quirk versus your normal avenue of investigation?”

“Several of the teachers at Aldera have suspiciously clean records. Some digging into them reveals that, frankly, none of them existed until they appeared at the school. It’s decent work in creating their identities and certifications, but they are forgeries. Their quirks on record are close enough to some recent villain disappearances.”

Fuck. That’s a good reason.

“So what? The Aldera schools are fronts for villain operations?”

“Well, the junior high anyway,” Nedzu says, taking a sip of his tea. “At the very least, it bears looking into things more. A new student is easier to slip in at this point in the year over a new teacher.”

He turns those black beady eyes on Shouta, who knows when he’s beat.

“I want to talk to the kid first.”

The principal’s tail swishes in pleased victory.

“That can most certainly be arranged!”

Akatani Mikumo recently had a growth spurt: all gangly limbs and hollow cheeks from shooting up faster than you can put on weight. He has long messy black curls that fall into his face. There’s a brace around his leg and a forearm crutch that he uses to stabilize himself. He’s in the jumpsuit that Support students spend most of their time in. The top tied with leanly muscled arms showcases scars (burn, electrical, acid, in the shape of handprints and fingertips).

“Nedzu-san said that you wanted to speak with me, Aizawa-sensei?” He doesn’t directly look at Shouta. The one eye visible from his hair flits around the room, noting exits. It hurts Shouta to see a kid feel the need to do such things.

“I do, Akatani,” Shouta gestures at the couch where there are good sightlines. “Take a seat.”

The boy easily makes his way over and settles on the couch.

“Nedzu has told me about the concerns that you brought to him regarding Aldera. We take such things very seriously here as teachers and as pro-heroes. But I’m hoping to hear more from you.”

Akatani blinks at him, an owlish dark eye peering up from behind a curtain of dark hair, like some kind of horror movie character.

“Sure.”

Shouta nods and takes a seat, waiting for the Support Course student to start.

“Kids…were never nice to me, especially when they found out that I was quirkless. Some of the adults would be nice but in the way that, uh, means that they just pity you. Others, though, they’d ignore me or actively encourage the other kids.”

Akatani sighs quietly, face disappearing underneath his hair.

“It got worse at Aldera Junior High though. It’s not…a good school. Frankly, the whole place is kind of a dump. But, I mean, in elementary school teachers were a bit stricter with quirks because that’s the way you learn. And they all thought I was a poor quirkless glass child or something. The junior high teachers? It was like they didn’t care. The quirks that they thought had the best use of getting a kid into a good hero course? They were treated like royalty. Not that anyone made it into one of the really good ones like here, Shiketsu, or Ketsubutsu, you know?”

“And for the quirkless?”

Akatani waves his hands at the crutch, “Why do you think my dad and mom pulled me out in the middle of my last year there? It was bad. The teachers accused me of cheating when I aced a test or beat a quirked kid in sprints or something. Death threats were written on my desk. Spider lilies appeared whenever news came about a suicide, especially when it concerned a quirkless kid.”

Shouta breathes in through his nose sharply at that. Fuck. This is bad.

“And this Midoriya Izuku?”

“Has it worse,” the student says quietly, eye appearing through his hair. “He’s…kind and gentle. The kid with the most powerful quirk in school hates him and people think he’ll get into a hero school like UA. Midoriya loves heroes and quirks. He wants to be one. So did I and then…”

Shouta waits the kid out, letting the silence stretch between them while Akatani gathers his thoughts.

 “I was pushed down the stairs,” he says, commenting on it like the weather. “I don’t remember much of those days surrounding it. The doctors think that I’ll never get those memories back. Either way, it was enough to have me move in with my aunt and finish junior high elsewhere. I still have physical therapy. The doctors think that I’ll be able to walk unaided one day, but my hero dreams are pretty much over.”

He says it with a bitter smile on his face. Something harsh and angry flares in Shouta on Akatani’s behalf. He fully believes that every kid who puts in the work should be given the chance to try to get into a hero course, regardless of their quirk status.

“And there was no police investigation?”

“There was an investigation, but I was found to be at fault,” Akatani sighs out. “Like I pushed myself down those stairs. It was amazing I didn’t break my neck. But if the police wouldn’t listen to me, then I figured Nedzu-san would. I just…Izuku deserves better, you know? And so do any other kid like us that passes through those doors. I deserved better when I was there. I know my parents tried to tell his mom to transfer him out, but, well, she can’t for whatever reason. I mean she’s a nice lady but…”

Definitely going to have to look into this Midoriya Izuku’s home life then.

Maybe Nedzu can get him an apartment in their building? This will probably be a deep-cover assignment for sure. Shouta will have to…

Wait.

Fuck.

He’s really going to do this, huh?

“Sensei?”

Shouta snaps his eyes to Akatani, who peers at him in concern.

“Be careful, okay? I mean, I don’t know how this investigation will go for you and Nedzu-san. The teachers, even the ones I got a sketchy vibe from, were just ignorant or bigoted or something. But the principal is a real piece of work.”

People tend to dismiss their instincts nowadays. They brush off that little voice in the back of their head that whispers, “Something is wrong. Be careful. Be wary.” Some of it is due to the effect of a Symbol of Peace, seeing heroes out and about larger than life, thinking that this will never happen to them.

But that instinct, that little tickle in the back of your heard, the churning in your gut, it could save your life. It’s human evolution. It’s an instinctual knowledge when seeing a predator whether animal or all too human. It’s something that should never be ignored.

“I’ll be careful, Akatani,” Shouta promises and the kid nods after a long moment. He takes out a card and presents it to him. “If you want to tell me anything else, then please get in touch. I’ll be undercover for the assignment. After it starts, then tell Nedzu and he’ll get it to me.”

Akatani takes the card and looks it over, “Alright. Thank you, Aizawa-sensei.”

“I accept,” he tells Nedzu, who beams up at him.

“Excellent! I’ll make a call while you get things in order with Yamada over the next couple of days.”

“I have a condition,” he says. Nedzu hums at that, gesturing at him. “Akatani said that his parents told Midoriya’s mother to take him out of Aldera. Since she has not, I just want to make sure his home situation is okay. I’d like an apartment near them.”

“That can be arranged easily enough,” the principal says brightly.

“So, they’re turning my husband into a fetus,” Hizashi says over dinner. Shouta snorts into his rice.

“I’ll be fourteen,” he dryly points out. Shouta was able to convince Nedzu to add a year. He’d still be a second-year middle school student. Hizashi cocks an eyebrow, and Shouta concedes the point. “But essentially, yes. Temporarily anyway.”

“Not the age I’d like to revisit,” his husband says, twirling a chopstick between his fingers. “Nedzu seriously couldn’t get a teaching job arranged?”

Shouta gives Hizashi a Look at that, which pretty much says ‘if there was a way to not get hit with a quirk to regress my age, then I would have done it’. His husband holds his hands up placatingly, a smile twitching on his lips.

“Not without raising suspicion. He’s not wrong with a new student being less suspicious over a new teacher, especially if some are villains with new identities,” he answers, rubbing his eyes. “It’s not really something I’m looking forward to. I hated being fourteen the first time around.”

“Well of course not, Detective Conan,” Hizashi teases. He then frowns, “Poor Akatani though.”

“Know him?”

Hizashi raises an eyebrow, “Support has to take English still. He’s a nice kid. His class is protective of him. I think all of them have crushes on him. It breaks my heart to see him so thrown off about it.”

Well, it’s good to hear that Akatani’s found people who care about him at UA. Not a happy ending, of course, but a better one than he would have gotten otherwise. Shouta’s outgrown the thought about happy endings, but hopefully, Akatani’s class will hold firm around him. The kid needs people in his corner.

“We’ll get him justice,” he promises. “Even if my voice has to crack and I have to deal with junior high again.”

Hizash laughs.

“I give you a week until you attempt to throttle someone.”

“You’re too kind. I don’t think I’ll last a day,” Shouta dryly says, which makes Hizashi crack up. “Also Nemuri? Never finds out about this.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut during your assignment, Sho,” his husband says, eyes glittering. “But I make no promises for after.”

“Unbelievable. Why did I marry you?” he says with a smirk tugging at his lips, reaching for his water.

“For my body obviously,” Hizashi responds without missing a bit. “And spousal privilege for when one of us finally cracks after a bullshit ruling from the HSPC and decides to start a mutiny.”

It’s only due to Shouta’s training and years of honing a face that doesn’t crack that stops him from spitting out his water and choking from laughter.

Once everything calms down, he does turn his tone serious before looking at Hizashi.

“Are you okay with this? I don’t know how long I’ll be undercover for.”

Undercover assignments mean zero communication with anyone outside of Nedzu and possibly the person whose quirk is going to be used on him if it needs to be reapplied. Dead drops and burner phones will be used. Shouta has done a few undercover assignments since coming to UA but those were only a week or two, at best.

But if Aldera is hosting villains, then Shouta may be dealing with this for a while.

“Kids are at stake,” Hizashi says, eyes sharp and voice quiet in a way that it rarely is. He rubs the back of his head where there’s a scar, hidden by his long hair from where a muzzle placed on him by a teacher had bitten into the skin. “You do what you need to do, Shouta. Bastard and I will be waiting for you.”

He takes Hizashi’s free hand in his and runs his thumb over the knuckles.

“Just try and make sure you come home to me,” his husband says seriously, long blonde hair dripping over his shoulder and eyes serious as the grave.

They’re both thinking of blue hair and the sunshine grin, of a boy who never grew up.

“I’ll do my best,” Shouta promises because that’s the only one he can give to his husband.

It doesn’t take long for Shouta to be ready to go into the deep cover assignment. He has Nemuri and Tensei promise to look out for Hizashi and make sure his husband doesn’t worry too much about him. He also sets reminders in his and Hizashi’s shared calendar about Bastard’s yearly physical along with other odds and ends.

He finds a replacement Ethics teacher who can also help out in the Heroics courses. Another underground hero known as Starbright, who’s been recovering from injuries from a recent raid. They are happy to be a visiting pro-hero teacher at UA for an undetermined amount of time while Shouta goes undercover. 

There’s also a frankly weird video call with all three of his parents, who are spending time abroad in Africa, to tell them that he’ll be in deep cover and to ask if they remember what size he was when he was in junior high. Uncle Haruto’s scarily accurate memory turns out to be a lifesaver as he texts Nedzu the sizes he’ll need for his time undercover.

Watanabe Haruka is very bubbly and sweet with pink hair the color of cherry blossoms. She’s not annoying about her sweet personality. More like she’s just so full of good cheer that it just spills off of her and into the room as a whole. There are several ways to get licensed for quirk usage in public: heroics, the medical field, some police officers, and filling out very complex paperwork to be able to do so on the job.

Watanabe, a therapist has license for medical usage with her quirk, which she calls Benjamin Button, is sometimes called in to help heroes who need to appear younger than they are.

“I can make the effects last anywhere from a couple of hours to a couple of months,” she explains in the pre-arranged meeting place to him while Nedzu watches. It’s mid-morning on a Saturday with the sun shining brightly and Shouta dressed in a robe. “For you, it’ll last for about three months so around twelve weeks. If you need to go under longer, then Nedzu will get in contact with me and arrange for me to reapply my quirk. The benefits here are you’ll retain your knowledge and your skills. The drawbacks are you’ll have to deal with, well, everything else of being a second-year student in middle school. Your emotions are going to feel a bit out of whack. Yay, puberty. And there’s a chance that if you get a huge surge of adrenaline toward the end date of my quirk, then your body will revert to its previous state. So no near-death situations!”

Teenage moodiness, fantastic. And if this assignment is longer than three months, then he’ll need to be careful about anything that gets his heart pumping a bit too much.

“And you’ll be okay?” he asks, unsure of the drawback for her.

“I won’t be able to use my quirk for about a month since this is pushing its upper limits,” Watanabe says with a wave of her hand. “I’ll need a nice big meal and a nap, not necessarily in that order. But there are no ill effects for you or myself. I am told that it feels a bit odd, but it’s not painful. It’s probably uncomfortable if you get that adrenaline growth spurt surge though.”

Shouta rolls his shoulders and nods.

“Alright.”

Watanabe smiles at him as she stands and walks over. Her brown eyes turn bright green, the sort of green you see when grass shoots up from the snow, a sign of life renewed, with the activation of her quirk.

“It works like Recovery Girl’s,” she says. “So forehead or cheek kiss?”

“Forehead,” he says, his go-to for Recovery Girl when he can get away with it.

Watanabe nods, leaning down to where Shouta is sitting, and presses her lips to his forehead for several long seconds.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of regression.

Shouta is still Shouta, of course. He still has all his memories and feelings and the same mind as he did at twenty-eight.

But Watanabe is definitely right.

It’s…odd.

And that’s the only way he can describe being physically twenty-eight one moment and physically fourteen the next.

Either way, it feels easier to leave Aizawa Shouta behind with the slide into being physically fourteen again.

Shouta takes a moment to stare at his clean-shaven face with rounder cheeks. His eyes are dry, but less so. Her flexes his smaller hands, which are covered by his robe. He had forgotten how short he was at this age. The aches and pains from injuries acquired due to the punishing occupation of being a pro hero that not even the strongest healing quirk can entirely chase away.

He rolls his shoulders under the too-big bathrobe he’s wearing now.

He can handle this, he thinks.

“Alright Aizawa,” Nedzu says and it’s odd. Shouta’s still taller than the principal, of course, but the gap is definitely less than it usually is. On a nearby couch, Watanabe sleeps deeply. “I have your paperwork here along with the key to your new apartment. The number that you can reach me out is under the name Edogawa Conan.”

Shouta pauses and raises an eyebrow, “Is that a Detective Conan reference? Hizashi already made it.”

Of course, Nedzu would reference a two-hundred-plus-year-old long-running anime and manga series. Hizashi liked learning about pre-quirk media, but Nedzu? Well, it was a slight surprise. Reflecting on things, Shouta realizes that his situation is rather like it.

Except he’s (hopefully) going back to his correct age at the end of this. 

The chimera grins wide like he does when he’s particularly amused by something showing off his sharp teeth. He only does that around people he trusts, like Shouta. “I figured the name would be appropriate given your particular situation for this case. Though I must applaud your knowledge of pre-quirk anime.”

“Oboro and Hizashi liked it,” he says, ignoring the pang of grief in his heart at that. It hurts less than it did. More of when you purposefully poke a scar that likes to act up from time to time. Nedzu’s face softens gently at that.

“Shirakumo was a young man of many varied tastes. Same with Yamada,” he agrees. “Be careful. And if you need to be extracted out the code phrase is ‘Can you send me some matcha pocky, Uncle?’ and we’ll get you out immediately.”

Shouta nods, committing the phrase to memory. He picks up the handle of his suitcase.

“The apartment has already been furnished and stocked with food. We’ll talk in three days at five after midnight. I’ll call you, let the phone ring twice, hang up, and call again,” Nedzu explains, papering over the moment of grief with a familiar tone of business. Despite all the mind games he plays, it’s one of the things that Shouta appreciates about his boss.

“Good luck, Aizawa.”

He meets the beady black eyes of the principal, “Thank you. I’ll talk to you in three days.”

With that, he rolls out his suitcase to the waiting taxi. Stepping out into the sunlight as a teenage boy for the first time in years.

“Let’s begin then,” he mutters.

Chapter Text

Throughout his thirteen, almost fourteen, years of life on this planet, Midoriya Izuku knows several truths of the world.

The main lesson, however, remains a cornerstone of his existence since the age of four: not all people are created equal.

Sure, that’s always been the truth of things. It’s a saying that has been around since the pre-quirk era. Not that anyone wants to acknowledge that their quirkless ancestors had anything worthwhile to say. Never mind that the world at large has been without quirks for thousands of years. Quirks are only a couple hundred years old. It’s barely a blip in the timeline of human existence.

Not that anyone cares to notice. Not that anyone cares to talk about it. Not that anyone cares that a fifth of the world is quirkless. Or that the reason why Japan’s quirkless population amongst the younger generations is so low is due to them either dying far too young or moving to a country that is more welcoming toward them.

Either way, the truth of the matter remains: not all people are created equal.

It goes doubly true when you are born quirkless in a world of quirks. It’s…frustrating. Izuku considers himself a pretty happy person all things considered, despite the world wanting to beat it out of him from childhood. While elementary school had been bad, all things considered, the teachers at least had the sense to corral the other kids.

Because only babies couldn’t control their quirk after all. And were they babies?

No. Of course not.

They just got clever about when they would use it on Izuku. And if he did complain about it, the teachers would just assume he was jealous of his classmates’ abilities or tut like he was a porcelain. And if he defended himself? Then he was the one in trouble for not knowing his limits.

The double standard was real, and it sucked.

Nothing, however, beats his own private Hell with a capital H of Aldera Junior High.

Aldera Junior High is not the best junior high in the district. It’s not even the best public junior high in the area. The building is old and creaky. Once, during class, a piece of ceiling fell and hit Okawa (a mix of mutation and transformation quirks, focused on rocks) on the head. Luckily, since he has rocks for hair? It didn’t hurt him at all, but it’s clear why everyone is banking on Kacchan to get to UA.

After all, if they can get a student who graduates from Aldera into the UA Hero course? It looks really good for them. And that means that they can apply for grants from the Heroics Commission. Though Izuku thinks that the principal has gotten some grants for underprivileged schools. The school should have given all the repairs it needs, but he’s pretty sure that the said principal is embezzling it.  

Not that he can report it.

Who would believe a quirkless kid?

They didn’t believe Mikuchan.

(Never mind that Mikuchan got into the UA Support Course. Because he transferred after his accident, the credit counts to the junior high he finished his third year in. But he’s doing well! They text and video chat sometimes. Not all the time because he’s busy with the support work and Izuku doesn’t want him to worry too much about him, but Izuku’s happy to know how well he’s doing.)

He misses him though. He was pretty much Izuku’s only real friend at Aldera.

Now it’s just him counting down the clock until he can make his move to become a hero.

He wants to show the world what he can do.

(And he will say “I am here” and no one will ever say “quirkless” like it means “worthless” again.)

Izuku is glad that tomorrow is Sunday, if only for the break between seeing his classmates and teachers. There’s a rhythm to his days at Aldera, perfected over his year and a couple of months at the school.

Arrive early but not too early.

Check his desk for traps, “gifts”, or words on it.

Disable any traps, bin the “gifts”, and go to Wada-san (ram mutation quirk, namely cosmetic with the horns and eyes) or Yama-san (sterilization emitter quirk, good for cleaning up biological messes, gives him light sensitivity), the janitors, who will offer to help him clean up his desk. They try to swing by his classroom early to make sure that it’s clean for him, which is nice. But it’s a big and old school, they can’t always do it.

Insist to Wada-san or Yama-san that he can handle it, but thank them. It’s always good to be polite to the service staff. One time, when they did the cleaning back in first year, Nakahara-sensei (emitter quirk for perfect pitch) chewed them out for it. He doesn’t want to get them in trouble again. They need their jobs. Izuku’s not worth losing a job for.

Clean the desk and return the cleaning supplies before the bell rings.

Keep his eyes down, make himself small, try not to offend his classmates (especially Kacchan) with his general existence. Swallow any urge to mutter if possible, usually digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand helps.

Morning classes. Speak only when spoken to. Do not raise your hand. Do not volunteer information. If there is a test get every fourth or sixth question wrong so you get good UA-worthy grades, but not so good that it will be seen as cheating by his senseis.

Lunch. Wait until Kacchan clears the room. If his mom made him a bento, go to the library where Masumi-san (librarian, transformative quirk that turns her fingers into pens) will let him hide between the stacks to eat or on the roof, if he can swing it. If buying his lunch, then be polite to the lunch ladies, and compliment something he noticed about them so that when his tray is knocked out of his hands, they’ll give him extra without having him pay again.

Afternoon classes. Speak only when spoken to. Do not raise your hand. Do not volunteer information. If there is a test, then get every third or fifth question wrong so you get good UA-worthy grades, but not so good that it will be seen as cheating by his senseis.

End of Day. Judge Kacchan’s mood. Some days, he won’t care if Izuku dashes out of there for home. On other days, he and his friends (minions) will want a game of Deku Dash, hunting down Izuku to beat him up when they catch him. Izuku has to lose three times out of five so Kacchan doesn’t get too angry about it.

The rest of the day. Chase hero fights. Observe quirks. Come home to his Mom. Lie about how his day was. Sometimes, he and Mikuchan will play video games together if they can carve out time on Discord. Other times, it’s talking to his friends on hero forums after he finishes his homework. On the nights his Mom has to work late, Izuku has to make or order dinner for them. He makes sure to leave his mother’s covered in the fridge with a note. Do the necessary chores before doing his homework.

Bed.

Rinse and repeat for the next year and some months until he graduates, goes to UA (or Shiketsu or Ketsubutsu or any other hero academy), and does his best to live out his dream of helping people. Izuku knows that his day-to-day is existing over living, but he can exist a little while longer.

He sees the people in the world who need help.

He will help them.

Luckily, his Saturday classes went well, much to Izuku’s relief. There was nothing to clean up on his desk. Kacchan was in a good mood, well for Kacchan anyway. It was a good enough mood that he didn’t acknowledge Izuku’s existence, which means that he could breathe a little easier for it.

He got a ninety-five on an essay test from Akino-sensei (transformation quirk, grows gills when in salt water), and didn’t even get accused of cheating! After school, Kacchan and his friends wanted to go to a new arcade that opened up with a lot of ultra retro fighting games in it. They immediately left after class, which means Izuku was able to take his time getting home, even stopping to buy himself some buns as a treat for how well his day is going.

He mentally goes over the schedule for the day. His mom has to work a bit later than normal at her nursing job, so it’s Izuku’s turn to make dinner for the night. Going over what they had in the fridge in his head as he ate his pork bun, Izuku takes a moment to enjoy the rare instance of peace in his life.

It was lonely, sometimes.

But one day, it will get better.

He can feel it. 

(It has to get better.)

There’s a new boy in the lobby of his building, looking frustrated with the elevator. His black hair falls to his chin and he clutches a suitcase and backpack. He’s also wearing a shirt with a really cute cat on it. Vaguely, Izuku remembers his mom telling him that they were getting a new neighbor across the hall.

“T-The elevator’s a bit fried right now,” he says suddenly. “The Abe’s y-youngest recently got her quirk. It's electricity-based. Not s-super powerful, but it’s enough to b-break the elevator when she pushes the button too many times. It’ll probably be fixed in a day or t-two.”

The other boy turns to Look at him with a capital L. People see Izuku every day and look at him, but, wow, he feels like the other boy is cataloging everything to do with Izuku in his head. He feels…Seen.

It’s a strange feeling. Izuku fidgets uncomfortably, a bag of leftover buns in his hand.

“Um,” Izuku swallows. “Y-You must be m-my new neighbor on floor four, right? I can help you with your stuff. T-That is if you w-want the help! I don’t mean to butt in I—”

“Thanks,” the other boy says, voice soft. “And you’re right. I am new to the building. I’m Aikawa Shohei.”

As always when meeting a new person his age, Izuku feels his heart glow a little bit with hope. That maybe this time will be different and he can have a friend who doesn’t care about his quirklessness. Izuku likes to believe that he has a good sense of people. While Aikawa definitely has an intense gaze, he seems like a good person. Izuku can feel it.

“I-I’m Midoriya Izuku! I hope you enjoy it here, Aikawa-kun!” he says with a smile. “Are you hungry from your trip? I-I got some buns for a snack a-after school.”

The boy blinks again as if noticing the bag.

“Do you have a pizza bun?”

Izuku beams at him before digging said bun out.

“Yes!”

Midoriya Izuku is painfully lonely, Shouta can tell that right off the bat. He recognizes that look in his eye. He saw it in the mirror plenty of times the first time around for his second year of middle school.

He’s also bright in the way that reminds Shouta of all his friends: Hizashi, Nemuri, Tensei, and even Oboro. The smile on his face that he gives Shouta as he digs out the bun is pure absolute sunshine. Not like All Might’s frozen-in-place smile, it’s natural.

A smile that makes the world seem a bit kinder.

The pizza bun is also good, but the physical help is appreciated. While Shouta does have his skills from being a pro, he doesn’t quite have the muscle mass he enjoyed. Luckily, he can work around that. Still, it takes the two of them to get the suitcase up to the fourth floor.

“A-are your parents coming later?” Midoriya asks, face flushed from the exertion as they walk down the hallway together.

“Not right away,” Shouta replies, remembering the backstory that Nedzu came up for him. “They travel a lot for their job. I was homeschooled for a long time, but they wanted me to spend time with kids my age. So, they got me an apartment here.”

“Oh! You’re like Shikichi-san on the fifth floor,” Midoriya shares but doesn’t elaborate more than that. “My m-mom is nurse so if you don’t feel well, s-she can definitely help you! We’re right across the h-hall if you need anything, Aikawa-kun.”

It’s a nice offer, Shouta thinks, one that seems to be made truly. He already thinks that this kid doesn’t have a disingenuous bone in his entire body. They fall into silence before stopping in front of their doors. Midoriya bites his lip at that, looking a bit awkward.

“What school will y-you be going to?”

“Aldera. I’ll be starting on Monday.”

Shouta notices how Midoriya’s face takes on a slightly strained pinched look.

“Maybe w-we’ll be classmates then!” he says, a touch too cheerfully. “We don’t have a full class in my h-homeroom yet.”

“That would be nice,” Shouta allows, noticing how the boy’s shoulder tenses at that. “I need to get settled in today. But maybe we could hang out tomorrow?”

The tension immediately snaps as shock takes over Midoriya’s expression.

“R-Really?” he asks, looking suddenly shy.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it,” he says with a shrug. “It’s only logical to get all the facts before going into a new school.”

Midoriya giggles at that, nervously uncertain, but then he gives Shouta a small smile.

“Okay. Yeah. T-That’ll be great, Aikawa-kun. I’ll see you t-tomorrow then.”

And then he turns around, heading into his apartment.

Shouta looks at the closed door for a moment before going into his new home for however long this assignment will last for.

The moment the door shuts behind Izuku. He may fist pump a bit in victory in the entryway because he may have made a friend! Maybe! Aikawa wants to hang with him tomorrow! Sure, they had only known each other for like half an hour, but it was something.

‘Unless he hates you,’ a nasty little voice in his hand that sounds like Kacchan whispers. ‘Who would want to hang out with a quirkless deku?’

Izuku’s stomach sours a little bit at that. He swallows thickly, thinking of all the times over the years in elementary and junior high when a new kid joined the class, and was quickly warned away from him, no matter how friendly he was. It was always the same.

And every single time, Izuku hopes that it’ll be different.

Maybe, this time it will be.

Izuku has to believe that there is at least one person his age who wouldn’t automatically hate him for being quirkless.

Shouta stares at the door of the Midoriya’s apartment the next day. His night was spent on the couch, eating his jelly pouches, and reading through the files that Nedzu sent over with him (which will stay in a hidden safe in the apartment when not being worked on) on Aldera Junior High.

And the chimera is definitely right.

A couple of the teachers’ backgrounds are odd.

There’s an art to creating a paper trail for a person, a balancing act between too much and not enough. Whoever was doing it for the Aldera teachers? Yeah, they underdid it. Birth certificate, sure, a My Number, great, but nothing about schooling, except them having teaching certifications required for it. Anyone with barely an understanding of background checks would have recognized this as suspect.

There was something rotten at Aldera Junior High, especially with its teachers.

Right now, he needed a student’s perspective on it as well.

The case is definitely an investigation. Judging how Akatani talked, however, Shouta is also going to be playing bodyguard for Midoriya Izuku. And that means making friends, and trying to be a fourteen-year-old.

Not that Shouta was much of a teenager when he was actually in middle school.  

He raises his hand and knocks.

“Aikawa-kun!” Izuku breathes out with a smile. “Thank you f-for coming! Pl-Please come in.”

“Thank you for having me,” the boy says quietly, stepping inside in his socks. It makes sense considering that he’s right across the hall that he wouldn’t put on shoes purely for that trip.

“Sure! Um, my m-mom wants to meet you before we can do anything. S-she has to go in to w-work soon.”

His mom was asked to pick up an extra shift for one of her colleagues who came down with the flu with the promise of overtime pay. Izuku feels a flash of guilt at that, knowing the reason they needed the extra money was because his spare uniform got ruined and couldn’t be salvaged. The money that they got from his dad’s patents in America helped of course, but it can only cover so much.

“That’s fine,” Aikawa says with a nod. He speaks with a sort of calm measured-ness that Izuku really admires. It’s almost something like poise, which he’s always admired but never had. Maybe he could ask Aikawa for tips? It would help with—

“You’re mumbling, Midoriya.”

Izuku jumps and blushes. He’s already ruining this. His stomach works itself into a familiar knotty feeling while his mind whispers that he’s just a worthless fucking stalker, “S-sorry. It’s a…I know it’s a little weird and a little creepy.”

“Not that creepy. But sometimes people say things out loud that they mean to keep internal. I just wanted to make sure you knew it was happening,” Aikawa says after a moment. “People find my smile unsettling.”

Izuku smiles at that, feeling the knot in his stomach lessen as he takes Aikawa to his mom.

Midoriya Inko is a woman in her late thirties to early forties with a short, plump frame. She has pin-straight hair a couple shades of green lighter than her son’s. Based on her quirk, she has some form of mild telekinesis, judging by how she tugs forward little things like her car keys and a paper towel. She was wearing a nurse’s uniform in a pale shade of lavender as she rushes about the kitchen.

“Mom? Aikawa is here!” Midoriya chirps brightly. Shouta watches the older woman. He requested an apartment close to the Midoriyas’ because Akatani said about Midoriya’s mother not transferring her son out of school…it concerned him a little bit. But Shouta’s seen more child abuse cases than he would care to count or stomach over the years. He feels he has a good gut instinct when it comes to abuse cases.

He looks at Midoriya Inko. To his relief, she doesn’t ping any sort of warning in Shouta’s head immediately. She looks a bit tired, but all nurses at the hospitals have that bit of tiredness to them. It’s nothing new.

Instead, there’s something else on her face when she sees Shouta standing near her son. Something a little heartbreakingly like hope and relief.

“Welcome to the building, Aikawa-kun!” She greets with a smile. “I’m Midoriya Inko, Izuku’s mom.”

Shouta bows politely, “I’m Aikawa Shohei, Midoriya-san. Thank you for having me in your home.”

“I apologize that I can’t be here for long,” she says with an apologetic smile. “One of my colleagues is ill and I was asked to cover her shift. But you boys should be fine and Izuku knows he can go to Kinamoto-san three doors down if something bad happens.”

She glances at the clock on the microwave, “Speaking of, I need to get going to make my train.”

She grabs her purse and kisses Midoriya’s forehead, who doesn’t squirm away like most teenage boys would. Instead, he accepts her affection easily and hugs her.

“I left money if you two want to go out for some food,” Midoriya-san says as she pulls back. “Izuku, darling, if you and Aikawa-kun go out, just text me, okay? And be safe.”

“Yes, Mom,” Midoriya says with a nod, curls bouncing. “Be careful and have a nice day at work, okay? Let me know you got there alright.”

The woman ruffles those green curls at the concern.

“I will. Have a fun day, you two! And Aikawa-kun, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. Izuku can give you my phone number.”

Shouta nods, “Thank you, Midoriya-san.”

She smiles at him at that before heading to the front and moments later the door clicks behind her, leaving him and Midoriya.

“Well,” the boy says thoughtfully. “At least she didn’t start crying.”

Izuku looks over at Aikawa, who is politely glancing around the living room.

“Um,” he begins, swallowing a little bit. He hates that he doesn’t know how to do this, interact with someone his age, and not have it devolve into bullying. “Wh-what would you like to do, Aikawa-kun?”

“I don’t know,” the other boy says, his chin-length black hair falling into his face. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

The relief that courses through Izuku’s veins is so potent and genuine that it makes him a little high. Not that he has ever been high, of course. But he imagines this is what it feels like.

“Neither h-have I. Um, I have some video games in my room? If you want, of course! O-Or we could go out or something. I-I have other things as well. M-maybe a movie or we could see what’s on TV or um…”

Now he’s just listing things. Why is Izuku like this?

Aikawa blinks slowly at him before saying, “I haven’t played video games in a long time.”

Izuku latches onto it gratefully, “I found this collection of ultra retro games for free! Have you ever played the old-fashioned version of Mario Kart? It’s super fun! The console’s in my room.”

Midoriya Izuku is a hero fanboy, and that much is clear to Shouta within a second of stepping into his bedroom. It’s covered in hero merch with All Might especially prominent. But there is other hero representation as well. Faces that Shouta is very familiar with.

There’s a poster for Put Your Hands Up! Radio with Hizashi’s familiar bombastic signature on it. Nearby there’s a poster of the up-and-comer Miruko with her in a power pose and shit-eating grin on his face. He recognizes a couple of international heroes though like English Rose from the UK and La Bruja Roja from Mexico as well. And there…

Shouta freezes.

On Midoriya’s lamp is a replica of his goggles. His brow furrows. Underground heroes don’t get merch made of them.

“Oh! Do you like Eraserhead too?” he asks brightly when he notices Shouta looking at the goggles. “Almost no one heard of him unless you're really into underground heroics.”

Well, shit.

“Kind of,” Shouta shrugs casually. “We have similar quirks.”

“Really?!” Midoriya gasps. “Oh, that’s amazing, Aikawa-kun! Eraserhead has one of the most fascinating and useful quirks out there in my opinion. It’s so perfect for heroics. I mean, well, not much is known about the mechanics. But being able to erase quirks somehow? It’s so fascinating and cool.”

Shouta can feel the blush creeping up his neck with that little tirade.

“It’s called Nullify. I can nullify a quirk’s effects so long as my eyes glow.”

He can’t hide the glowing of his eyes. Frankly, it takes a conscious effort to keep his hair down when using his quirk, which is why he doesn’t do it while in combat. But he can do it for the sake of passing off his quirk in a middle school.

Midoriya’s eyes sparkle at that. His nervous stutter and stumbling forgotten in the wake of something that brings him so completely to life.

“Really?! Oh wow. Can I ask you some questions about it? I, well, I love quirks! I take notes on them,” he gestures to a row of thick black notebooks. On the side of them reads Hero Analysis for the Future with a volume number next to them. The most recent one, the one Midoriya reaches for, is volume eleven.

“You want to be a hero?” he asks, not answering the question outright.

“Oh! Um, y-yeah,” the kid says, opening up the notebook carefully. Shouta peers, curious about what’s inside and double takes.

Inside are various heroes, meticulously drawn in a way that he did not think a thirteen-year-old possessed. There’s basic information but then there are suggestions, questions, and ideas for new moves. Not just the Top Ten either, there are all sorts of heroes in there.

Potential, his mind whispers. Midoriya Izuku has potential.

Of course, there’s a question Shouta has to ask that he knows the answer to.

“This is amazing, Midoriya,” he says, hating what he has to ask next. He needs to get out of the way though. “What’s your quirk?”

It freezes his heart when he hears Aikawa ask him the question. The ice slips down into his veins with each thump-thump-thump that beats out of it. With the ice feeling in his veins so prominent, he can feel the ache of the scares from the other kids, including the starburst scars left behind by Explosion.  

Well, it was good while it lasted. All cumulative thirty-five minutes of it between today and yesterday.

“Oh, um,” Izuku says, fiddling with his notebook. “I’m q-quirkless, actually.”

He doesn’t want to look at Aikawa. Izuku doesn’t want to see that familiar twist of a face into something cruel and cold. He has seen it done a million times over the years since he was diagnosed, seeing how the kids suddenly turn callous and distant.

Izuku hates it. He stops looking at faces when they find out the truth about him.

“Okay,” Aikawa says, no judgment in his tone. He sounds the same as he did a minute ago. “Do you want to play the game or what?”

Izuku turns and looks at him.

Aikawa meets his gaze.

He looks the same as he did moments ago.

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care!!!

Izuku feels something warm bloom in his chest, something burying deep into him and taking root to grow. Something hopeful and true and…and…

He thinks he has a friend.

Izuku grins at Aikawa, abandoning his analysis notebook, “Sure! S-sure, let’s play!”

Chapter Text

Shouta stares at the plain black gakuran before him. The clothing, inanimate it may be, stares right back at him.

He never thought that he would have to wear one of these again. He burned his old middle school uniform the moment he realized that he didn’t have to go back to that hellhole again. Sure, it was a highly-rated private school. For ninety to ninety-five percent of the student body, it was probably a perfectly ordinary schooling experience.

It was Hell for Shouta, like how elementary school was similarly Hell. A quirk like Erasure didn’t make him popular (don’t let him look at you, kids would whisper, he’ll take your quirk) while his own sour and taciturn disposition did not lend well to making friends (you can at least try to be part of the class, Aizawa). Even so, he kept his head down, defended himself as needed but made sure his record remained clean enough to get into UA.

And he swore that he would never step foot into a junior high again.

Time, as always, made a liar out of him. It does to everyone though, so it’s not a huge surprise. Well time and circumstance, but the thought stands either way.

But, hey, Shouta’s used to breaking promises to himself at this point in his life. He stares at his young face, the round cheeks, and light bags under his eyes. He misses Hizashi, he misses Bastard the cat, and he misses being tall enough to get things off the high shelf in precisely that order.

“Fuck,” he mutters to the apartment before getting ready for the day. Mentally, he steals himself about being around a bunch of second-year middle school students, objectively the worst age range, and goes over what Midoriya told him last night.

Shouta didn’t push too hard on Midoriya after the kid revealed his quirkless status to him. He could tell in the tenseness that the kid didn’t quite believe Shouta’s easy acceptance. They played old video games for a while, which was okay. It’s been some time since he sat down to play something. After a good amount of time passed, Midoriya ordered delivery over going out to a café.

By then, judging by his expression, Midoriya looked less tense, more hopeful, like he believed that maybe Shouta would not hate him due to his quirkless status. Something in that gaze twisted at Shouta’s heart. His first impression was spot on, Midoriya Izuku was profoundly lonely.

“So,” he began as they sat down for some food. “Do you mind if I ask you about Aldera?”

“O-Oh! Sure, I guess. I-I’m not…really popular though,” Midoriya replied, mumbling the last part of the statement.

“I don’t care much about popularity,” which has always been true. Popularity never mattered much to Shouta. Briefly, in UA, he did imagine being a limelight hero with Oboro and Hizashi.

But then Oboro…

Anyway, Shouta grew out of that dream rather quickly all things considered. Being an independent underground hero suited him and he didn’t feel constrained by the weight of the popularity rankings. Even underground hero fans, what few there were, knew better than to hunt down the heroes and understood things like boundaries.

For the most part.

Midoriya nodded at that, “It’s…not a really great school. I mean, it’s fine. Like the teachers teach their subjects and stuff. But the school is breaking down, you know? It’s an old building. It’s been around since the pre-quirk era. The principal says that students who get into hero schools could get Aldera more prestige.”

Shouta, having been at private schools for his education, didn’t think that sounded right. But he’d be the first to admit that the education system needed an overhaul in certain areas. He didn’t know much about how public schools got the funding that they do.

“So it’s a dump.”

Midoriya giggled nervously at the blunt phrasing.

“Yeah. Something like that. If…If they think you have a good quirk, then the teachers will be nice to you and help you.”

“And if they don’t?”

Midoriya shrugged, “You still won’t be quirkless, Aikawa-kun. There’s a ladder, I guess. No wait. A pyramid! That’s a better sort of metaphor for this. There’s a pyramid, right? At the top are the kids who have great quirks, I guess. And the bottom are people who have weak quirks and there, in the sand, to the left of the pyramid is me.”

 There was a twist to Midoriya’s mouth, Shouta noticed, when he said “weak” or “great”. Like he didn’t want to spout it out that way, but didn’t know another way to. Like he didn’t like labeling quirks in such a manner.

Either way, it’s something not new to Shouta for all he hated that sort of thinking. It’s why expelled his entire first-year class this year. The lone survivor of Class A, Amajiki Tamaki was sent to Class B where he would flourish better under Thirteen’s guidance anyway. Class B would be split up next year into Class A and B, smaller class sizes meant a better one one-on-one sort of instructor situation anyway.

They aren’t allowed to psychologically screen applicants to the hero course, which is a vast oversight in Shouta’s opinion. Unfortunately, however, the Hero Public Safety Commission put the kibosh on that. While Nedzu tended to keep their noses out of UA’s school affairs, it was the one thing he could never get them to budge on. Still, if Aldera’s attitude was something passed onto its students, he couldn’t see them lasting long in UA’s atmosphere.

All of the teachers have faced quirk discrimination or bullying in one form or another. Nedzu made certain to stack the teaching deck in that sort of favor when hiring them all.

“That sucks,” Shouta told Midoriya. The kid was nice, friendly, and cheerful. In a better environment, he would probably thrive and been pretty popular for his pleasant personality.

“Well. It’s not so bad. I have you now, right? I mean if you don’t want to hang out with me at school I would understand, of course. No need to paint a target on your back, but—”

“Yeah. You have me now,” Shouta said firmly. Because the kid does. Shouta doesn’t normally attach himself to people. He’s not good at connection, not like Hizashi, who can go into a room of strangers and make a new friend by the time he leaves. But he’s making it his job to keep the kid safe. Meeting Midoriya, seeing that loneliness, makes Shouta think of when he was a kid and achingly lonely. “I’m not good at this though.”

He doesn’t see himself as a good friend for all Tensei, Nemuri, Hizashi, Oboro, say otherwise on that front.

“That’s okay! We can get better together, Aikkun,” Midoriya paused at that, blushing. “Sorry. I think I like nicknames. For friends. Is…”

“It’s fine,” Shouta said. Aikkun is probably one of the nicer nicknames he’s been called over the years.

Shouta frowns at his reflection in the mirror, wearing the uniform with a sigh. Maybe after the assignment is over and done with he can burn it again. Oh. Viking burial. Now that? That would be fun. He could probably get Tensei on board, the little pyromaniac always wanted to shoot a flaming arrow. He picks up the backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.

Right.

He can do this.

Shouta’s about to open the door when he hears a knock.

“Aikkun? It’s Midoriya! I was wondering if you’d like to walk to school with me.”

Well, at least one part of the assignment is going well from the get-go: Midoriya seems to like him. Shouta opens the door and the boy on the other side gives a tremulous smile.

“It’s pretty early, isn’t it?”

“I mean not really? I like to get in early, but, not too early. I have a system for the day,” he finishes awkwardly.

A system, huh? He remembers having one as well way back when before UA.

Shouta hums as he locks his apartment door behind him, “Did your mom get back from work okay last night?”

Was that a normal thing a thirteen-year-old asks? Fuck. Shouta has no clue, but Midoriya doesn’t seem to mind much. His smile turns more genuine.

“Oh! Yes, she did. Now she has a couple of days off, which is good. She said that if you wanted a homecooked meal to come by for dinner.”

Shouta nods, not knowing what to say. Midoriya doesn’t seem to mind though. They walk side by side away from the apartment building. The kid chatters away about Gang Orca and his latest takedown with Selkie. He checks Shouta’s face a couple of times, trying to get a read on if he should stop. He brightens a little when Shouta doesn’t stop him or look bored.

Because, well, what the kid is saying is pretty impressive for his age. Midoriya shows a pretty high understanding the teamwork from the heroes at least. He even talks about other heroes that they also could have brought in on the mission as well, theorizing if Fatgum’s quirk makes him buoyant or not. He’s skilled, for a kid in junior high.

Potential.

“Ah,” Midoriya says, suddenly cutting off. He twists his hands together. “We’re here, Aikkun. You, um, probably need to go to the principal’s office, right?”

Shouta looks up at Aldera Junior High. It’s nothing special, though he can see what Midoriya meant by the building being old. Hopefully, to Shouta when he has to do some light breaking and entering to look at paper records, this means that their security measures are not entirely up to snuff as well.

“Yeah.”

Midoriya gives him a nervy smile, fingers twitching, “Probably not a good idea to be seen with me there. Um. I can—oh! Yama-san! Good morning.”

Shouta turns to see the kid waving to a janitor, based on the uniform. A guy around Shouta’s chronological age, mid-to-late twenties, with messy highlighter yellow hair and sunglasses on his face. He recognizes it from the dossier of people with suspiciously pieced-together pasts: Yama Aito. His quirk, if Shouta remembers correctly, has something to do with sterilization.

“Midoriya,” Yama greets with a small smile. “Good morning, kid.”

Midoriya returns the smile and gestures to Shouta.

“Good morning! This is my new neighbor, Aikawa Shohei. He’s new and needs to see the principal. And it’s…”

Even with the sunglasses, Yama winces as Midoriya trails off, “Say no more, Midoriya. I can get him to Fujiwara-san’s office just fine. I swung by your classroom and you don’t need to drop by to get some cleaning supplies.”

Shouta does not like the sound of that statement at all.

Midoriya bows to Yama, “Thank you very much!” He turns to Shouta, a shy smile on his face, “Hopefully, we’re in the same class, Aikkun.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Nedzu, somehow, arranged things as such, “I hope so as well, Midoriya. I’ll see you later either way.”

A nod at that before the boy turns and heads in to change out his shoes. Shouta looks up at Yama carefully, going through his inner Rolodex of villainous faces he’s seen over the years. Sometimes, seeing a person in person can trigger something versus seeing them in a photo on a dossier.

But nothing.

“So,” Yama says as he shows Shouta to the shoe lockers. “You’re friends with Midoriya?”

“I wouldn’t say that yet,” he says, easily changing out his shoes. “We just met, but he’s nice.”

“He is,” the man agrees as he walks down the hallway. “Remember that when the other kids get started in on him, alright?”

Shouta blinks slowly, wondering if, somehow, he just got some form of the shovel talk from a possible villain turned janitor. “I will. What’s Fujiwara-san like?”

Fujiwara Eichi, the principal of Aldera Junior High, reminds Shouta of an athlete gone slightly to seed. Or the old stereotype of the American used car salesman. His handsome face remaining handsome with botox and hair dye, skin slightly off color that speaks of going to a tanning salon, and a very flash fashion sense for a junior high principal.

Unlike a good portion of his staff? He has credentials. Failed heroic dreams, Fujiwara possesses a general strength enhancement quirk, enough to get him into a second-tier heroics school. Due to something that was clearly covered up in his second year, he transferred schools to a good but not great high school that focused on academics.

After this, Fujiwara attended a similarly middling college, earning a teaching degree, and worked his way up the administrative ladder to become principal at Aldera Junior High.

Yama pauses for a long moment, “A character.”

Given the way Yama says that? Shouta knows enough about reading between the lines to hear “douchebag” in his voice.  

“Ah,” he says.

They walk the rest of the way in silence.

Fujiwara, Shouta concludes within a minute of meeting the man, is most definitely a douchebag.

“I’m sorry that your parents could not be with us for your first day at Aldera!” booms Fujiwara, settling across from him after making Shouta wait with his receptionist for ten minutes in some sort of power move.

“Their schedule keeps them busy,” he says blankly. “But they’ve heard good things about Aldera.”

The man puffs up at Shouta’s bald-faced lie.

“Quite right!” he continues. “I know we may not look like much, but we have a promising student in our ranks already who will surely take UA by storm! What is your quirk, Aikawa?”

“Nullify,” he says carefully. “I can halt a quirk factor for as long as my eyes glow.”

With that, he sees the man’s attention drop off, “Ah well that’s certainly a quirk.”

“Yes,” agrees Shouta blandly. “It certainly is a quirk.”

Fujiwara eyes Shouta like he’s trying to figure out if he’s backchatting him or not. He’ll have to keep an eye on that with the teachers. But he keeps his face perfectly blank and bland. The man brushes it off.

“Your homeroom is with Class 2-B with Awaya-sensei. Here is your schedule and gym uniform. I hope not to see you in my office again, Aikawa.”

Shouta stands and bows, “Thank you for having me, Fujiwara-san.”

“Welcome to Aldera Junior High,” the man says, already turning to his computer.

Douchebag, Shouta thinks before heading out.

Izuku’s lucky streak is going strong, which is why he’s not thinking about how he’s probably due for something terrible to happen. He doesn’t believe in jinxes, but he also doesn’t want to jinx himself. His current lucky streak is twenty-three days and that was during an outbreak of the flu that left half of the kids home and the rest not going near each other in fear of catching it during his first year.

Yama-san, however, appears to have been correct. No one decided to write on his desk today. Izuku carefully sits, checking for traps in his desk, as he does every morning. Just like he checks his uwabaki for thumbtacks every morning.

Satisfied, Izuku keeps himself small, tracking Kacchan and his friends out of the corner of his eye. He keeps half an eye and ear out for the other kids as well. But everyone has known since elementary school that Izuku is Kacchan’s to torment. Everyone, however, seems more preoccupied with talking about doing fun things on their Sundays like going to the movies or an arcade or out to a café or something with their families.

And Izuku allows himself the memory of him and Aikkun playing games together, holding it close to his heart. Because he knows when the other kids start in on Aikkun, he will leave him behind as well.

For a moment though, all Izuku wants to do is pretend though.

The bell rings, sending everyone into their seats. Tanizaki (telekinetic quirk, similar to his Izuku’s mom’s small object attraction), the class representative since Kacchan refused it saying “I have better things to do than represent a bunch of fucking extras” so he’s vice rep (though everyone knows that Kacchan runs the show in Class 2-B), leads them through the greeting to their homeroom teacher.

“Alright everyone!” calls Awaya-sensei, whose multiple eyes blink (spider mutation quirk, non-poisonous, non-silk producing, but the eyes help him keep an eye on the class). “We have a new student transferring in with us today. I hope that you will treat him well. Please welcome, Aikawa Shohei.”

The door opens and Aikkun steps in. He looks bored with his hands in his pockets as he stands next to Awaya-sensei. Everyone whispers excitedly to each other. New students were always cause for new gossip at Aldera.

“Please introduce yourself, Aikawa.”

“My name is Aikawa Shohei,” he bows. “Please treat me well.”

“What’s your quirk?” Kacchan demands from his spot toward the front of the room. Aikkun only spares the briefest of glances at the blonde.

“I don’t really see why I have to tell you that.”

Izuku winces at that. Not the correct way to deal with Kacchan.

“HAH?!” explosions pop, pop, pop out of his hands and Izuku barely flinches. “You got a goddamn problem with me, extra?”

And then, the pops of Kacchan’s explosions…stop. Izuku glances up from underneath his hair.

Aikkun stares down Kacchan, there’s a steady red glow in his eyes, slightly narrowed. He does not look happy. Kacchan, meanwhile, stares down at his hands in shock.

“My quirk? What happened to my fucking quirk?!”

“Nullified. That’s my quirk. Don’t make me use it again. I get dry eye.” The glowing stops as he turns to the teacher. “Is that my seat?”

Aikkun does not wait for Awaya-sensei to respond. Instead, he walks to the seat behind Izuku with the red glow gone from his eyes like nothing happened.

The thing about undercover missions that Shouta really hates, more than being away from his husband and his cat (in that order), is the boredom. People think undercover work is all excitement like in the movies. All trickery and break-ins and romances or whatever, it’s not. It’s high moments of adrenaline mixed in with mind-numbing boredom.

Even then, if he does his job right, then the moments of adrenaline are minimal, usually at the end when he can finally break cover. Right now? Right now, Shouta longs for the sweet embrace of his sleeping bag. Being mentally a twenty-eight-year-old adult in a junior high class? Definition of boredom.

He twirls his pencil between his fingers idly as he half listens to the English teacher, Yoritaka, whose accent is atrocious. Hizashi would have a field day with it.

“Aikawa? What is the verb form of the sentence?”

Shouta doesn’t even look at the board, “Past participle.”

“Correct,” Yoritaka grounds out after a moment. Clearly, Shouta is winning friends amongst the teachers, not that he cares much. He’s here to look for criminals and Yoritaka’s name is on the list of suspicious. Teachers don’t have to like students, but they have to be goddamn fair and teach them.

Shouta does not have high hopes for the Aldera faculty, however.  

Though, more annoyingly, Shouta appears to have made an enemy among the students. The blonde who demanded to know his quirk keeps turning back to give him the evil eye. Normally, Shouta would not have used his quirk on the kid right off the bat because it’s not up to him to run the show. However, he saw Midoriya flinch at the sound of the popping.

And Shouta saw red when the kid flinched, which made him act on his emotions in a very teenage sort of way. To be fair, Watanabe did mention that it was a side effect of her quirk. Now that Shouta felt it, he thinks he can handle those teenage impulses. The flinch from Midoriya, however, speaks to several things that make him feel like there is fire flowing through his veins.  

Intellectually, he knew about the bullying from Akatani. As an adult, Shouta was, of course, angry. Seeing it like this, however? It reminds Shouta of getting in between bullies and their victims, glaring them down with his quirk activated because fuck them.

Given how everyone glances between the blonde kid and Shouta, he thinks he’s found the “promising UA student” amidst the class.

As a UA teacher, however, Shouta can say that he is not impressed.

Izuku swallows thickly as Kacchan storms over when the lunch bell rings with Okawa, Kurasama (transformative quirk, can change the length of his fingers and nails, likes to scratch Izuku when placed near him), and Sasai (emitter-transformation, can mildly control steam, better at actually turning into steam, not very hot thankfully).

The group of them, however, stop right behind Izuku.

Ah, yes. Kacchan’s probably still mad at Aikkun for this morning.

He doesn’t move, however, not when everyone else is in the room watching the scene unfold. The kids take their cues from Kacchan even since he was established as the one of them that will probably go to UA and heroics.

“Can I help you?” he hears Aikkun dully ask.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Messing with my quirk?”

“You wanted to know so badly. I gave you the answer. It’s not my fault that you don’t like it, kid.”

“KID?!”

“I don’t know your name,” Aikkun idly says. “I would call you Blondie, but she’s a seminal pre-quirk musician that I actually like. So, you can see my dilemma here.”

“Listen,” Kacchan grounds out. Izuku hears the sparkler crackling around his fingers. “You worthless, shitty extra with a weak ass quirk, my name is Bakugou fuckin’ Katsuki. And I’m going to be the Number One hero. You better learn your place here.”

“Well Endeavor can be Number Two,” he says simply, chair screeching with the movement of Aikkun standing up. “Clearly being well-liked isn’t everything when fear works just as well. Granted, everyone’s just holding their breath waiting for him to fall. I’m sure you at Number One would make an even more glorious end.”

The crackles get louder.

The silence is deafening except for those sparkler sounds.

Izuku’s compared Kacchan to Endeavor in his head, but it’s the first time someone says it out loud. It’s the first time someone says what Izuku’s analysis tells him. Sooner or later, Endeavor will fall.

People love a fall from grace after all.

“Well, this was something,” Aikkun says before tapping on Izuku’s shoulder, who startles, looking up. “C’mon Midoriya. Eat lunch with me.”

“I…what?”

“Eat lunch with me.”

“Why the fuck are you bothering with fucking Deku?!” demands Kacchan as he spins on his heel.

“Yeah man,” Karasuma sneers. “You should hang out with better people than Deku. He’s a quirkless freak.”

Izuku shrinks in on himself on that. He looks down at his clasped hands.

“See that’s the funny thing,” Aikkun says, the red glow settling into his eyes as he looks around the room. “Everyone is quirkless in my eyes.”

Everyone jumps, feeling their quirk nullify under the glowing gaze.

“Midoriya. Let’s go.”

Izuku jumps to it. He grabs his bento suddenly at his new friend’s firm insistence. He walks out of the room first with AIkkun following.

“Besides,” he hears the other boy tell the room. “I think I can figure out just who the better people are. Thanks.”

And he shuts the door to the classroom.

They make it to the stairwell when Izuku hears the explosions.

But it’s Aikkun’s firm voice saying that he knows who the better people really are that echoes in his ears.

Chapter Text

“Y-You shouldn’t’ve done that,” Midoriya whispers to Shouta as they eat their lunch on the roof. He slurps down a jelly pouch without answering. “And a-are those good f-for you, Aikkun?”

“They give me the caloric intake that I need,” he says, used to the argument with various people.

The kid puffs out his cheeks and holds out his bento to Shouta beseechingly, “M-My mom made it.”

The sausages are cut like little octopi. Judging by the way Midoriya stares at him with wide green eyes, Shouta’s will have to eat one of them. He sighs and eats one, which is good. A bright smile breaks out over Midoriya’s face as he sets the bento box between them. It dims pretty quickly though.

“K-Kacchan’s gonna make t-things difficult for you now,” he says to Shouta, whose brow furrows.

“Kacchan?”

“B-Bakugou,” clarifies the kid as he nibbles on a bit of egg. He looks small again, hunching in on himself as he does so. “Our moms have been friends s-since high school. W-we’ve known each other our w-whole lives. Um, we w-were friends once. W-when we were s-small. He was-wasn’t always so uh…”

“Dickish?” Shouta drawls, which startles a laugh out of Midoriya.

“Th-That,” he agrees quietly. “He hates me. And probably you. N-no one does that to K-Kacchan. What you did.”

Shouta, growing up and as a teacher himself, is intimately familiar with the type. He made the connection with Endeavor in the moment, but the person that Bakugou truly reminded Shouta of was Sensoji from Class B or Master Blaster as he was briefly known in the Pro Hero world. Their arrogance was as similar as their quirks. Sensoji only had a brief career, never broke into the Top 100 heroes, and resigned only five years after his debut.

People who were always praised for their quirks, people who set themselves to become heroes, people who…

“Weak and useless,” Sensoji sneered once after Oboro had died (and Shouta couldn’t save him, what kind of hero was he). “No wonder you couldn’t save Shirakumo.”

It was only Hizashi and Tensei holding Shouta back that stopped him from doing something he would regret.

Because Sensoji was right.

“Aikkun?” Midoriya calls gently and he snaps back to himself. Thoughts of his high school bully and tragedy disappear from his thoughts like ghosts as he focuses on the other kid.

“Bakugou doesn’t scare me,” he says and takes another sausage from the bento. “He has a powerful quirk, but there’s more to being a hero than that.”

“D-Do you want to be a h-hero, Aikkun?”

He already is, but he can’t say that out loud.

“Yes,” Shouta says. “I want to be a hero.”

He never wanted anything else in his whole life after all.

Midoriya blossoms at that more. His stutter gone in the face of his conviction, “I think that you will be a great hero, Aikkun! I mean I haven’t seen much, but you seem really calm and collected. I told you a little bit about Eraserhead yesterday, but he has some kind of quirk nullification as well. And he’s one of the best underground heroes out there!”

Shouta feels his cheeks color. He’s never dealt well with praise. From Midoriya’s tone, it sounds like he knows enough about Shouta that he’s a fan, which is baffling to him.

“Ah. Thank you.” He hesitates. “Do you want to be a hero as well, Midoriya?”

He recalls Akatani saying something about how he and Midoriya had a similar dream, before Akatani’s fall down the stairs.

Midoriya turns bright red and starts to playing with his hands, worrying his lower lip. Slowly, he nods, bushy green hair springing with the movement.

“Yes,” he whispers, face shadowed as he does not look at Shouta. “I-I want to be a h-hero.”

“Why?” he asks simply. He’s curious, Shouta has to admit. He’s not one to give platitudes for no reason or promise the world will be fair when it isn’t.

Why?

Aikkun hasn’t laughed at Izuku yet, which is new. Usually, people will be making fun of him by now. Instead, he posed a simple question to him.

Why?

Izuku has a rote answer to give about saving people with a smile, being like All Might. It’s, mostly, true. He has another one though, but it’s not one he thinks people want to hear though. Looking at Aikkun, who stood up to Kacchan and waits patiently, he thinks that maybe he wants to know.

Maybe Aikkun does care.

It’s a dizzying feeling. Izuku wonders if they’re moving too quick as friends. Could someone do that? He doesn’t know. Izuku can admit he doesn’t know a lot about friendship overall. He doesn’t know if there is a timeline for friendship. It’s…

Okay, he hasn’t made a friend since he was five, after he got the news that he was quirkless versus being a late bloomer like everyone thought he was. Izuku doesn’t really know how friendship works. Are they moving too quickly? He doesn’t know. Izuku took the initiative here mainly.

Even Mikuchan did most of the work in their friendship. He took Izuku under his wing as a senpai and it went from there. But that doesn’t count? Does it? Sure, they were friends, but Izuku wasn’t the one to instigate it.

Yes, he has made internet friends. But there was something about the easy sort of anonymity that comes from being behind a computer screen versus face-to-face. Shoot. He’s taking too long to answer now, isn’t he?

He’s not sure if it counts. But he and Aikkun are friends. He doesn’t want to give a rote answer.

Izuku chews on his lower lip thoughtfully for a long moment.

Izuku feels like this is important.

“I, um,” he says quietly. Aikkun turns to look at him with those piercing dark eyes. There’s nothing on his face: no encouragement but no scorn. He’s just patiently waiting for Izuku to answer his question.

“I-I want to be a hand,” he says quietly, firmly. The words have a shape in his mind, now he just needs to describe it. He faces important things head-on with determination. “Reaching out to someone who needs help up. I want to be a smile for when someone is afraid and needs comfort. I-I want to be a hero who can save people in ways that people don’t think matter. Because one day a kid will come home with a quirkless diagnosis and it’s…”

He swallows thickly, thinking of how quiet his mom gets on the day. He thinks of Kacchan and how his eyes turned angry and poisonous, the feeling of burns on his skin, and the burnt sugar smell of his quirk. He thinks of the pitying or angry gazes, directed at him, and how he can’t decide which one is worse.

He thinks of how lonely it feels. It clings to him with greedy hands and leaves him feeling hollowed out inside. With the old stories of dragons and their hoards, Izuku feels like every scrap of kindness is something to be jealously guarded for himself.

Even still, he will freely give kindness to others time and time and time again.

Even though they hate him.

Maybe especially because of that.

Izuku continues on, “It’s the worst day of your life. And I-I want to be a hero because that kid will need one. So will the kids with the weak quirks or the villainous ones or the ones that they say are bad for them. And I-I want them to see me and think ‘why can’t I be a hero’ or ‘maybe I am strong’. Because it sucks how much people see quirks as the only thing. If I’m a hero who isn’t defined by that, then…what does that mean for all those kids?”

Izuku feels his courage leaves him. There. That’s it. A reason pieced together over eight years, evolving from wanting to be a hero like All Might (largely still true) to why he want to be one. He’s never even told Mikuchan that reason, but…

“I-I…I want to be a hero who can save everyone, even the ones people think aren’t worth saving,” he pauses and adds quietly. “Maybe especially them. Because everyone deserves that hand, reaching out in kindness. That’s why I want to be a hero, Aikkun.”

Only then does he look at Aikkun.

What is potential? That’s probably too broad of a question. What does it mean when Aizawa Shouta, specifically, says that he’s looking for potential? After all, UA is the best school for heroics in Japan and the world. They produce a caliber of heroes that truly are something to aspire to.

So, surely, every single one of those students has potential to be a hero, don’t they? Still over the course of three years teaching, Shouta has expelled half of his first homeroom, a third of his second, and almost all of his third. Nedzu, of course, gives the UA teachers free reign in their classrooms. But, of course, he also needs to back such things to his boss.

“It’s tough love,” he told Nedzu over tea. “I’m not a nice person, neither is the world out there. All their lives, these children have been told that because they have a great quirk, then they can be amazing heroes. And it’s not true. And that can lead to disaster.”

(He thinks of Oboro and his own failure to save his friend.

He thinks of Endeavor and the man’s arrogance, and disregard for others.

He thinks of the heroes with greed in their hearts and grasping fingers, wanting to be the best simply to tower above everyone else. Some argue that so long as they work for the common good, then do their reasons really matter? Shouta has issues, however, subscribing to that line of thought.

Not when he sees heroes use their position of power to do harm in a thousand other small, malicious ways.

They need to know what it’s like to lose. Better to do it safely in a school setting, than otherwise. Those that can learn from defeat, that can experience a pseudo-death to come back from it? Those with power who learn that for all their power, things will not always go their way and try to be better for it?

Those who pick themselves and keep going, those who think adapt and change, those are the ones with potential in Shouta’s eyes.)

It’s a tricky thing, potential.

But Shouta looks at Midoriya?

That’s all he sees.

“Do you want help?” Aikkun asks Izuku. His black eyes pierce through him. 

“I…what?”

“I said,” he repeats. There’s something almost gentle within the rather monotone voice, something kind. “Do you want my help? I think you can be a hero, Midoriya.”

I think you can be a hero, Midoriya.

You can be a hero.

The tears well up in Izuku’s eyes at the soft words spoken to him. No one, not even Mikuchan (“We can try to be heroes,” was all he said), put it in such plain and stark terms. The tears roll down his cheeks as he stares at his new friend.

“Oh,” Aikkun says and he sounds flustered. “You’re crying. Why are you crying? Um…”

He digs out a handkerchief and Izuku takes it, “S-sorry. I just…n-no one has ever said that to me before. Y-You really think that I can be a h-hero, Aikkun?”

“I think that you have potential, but you need to put in the work. And I’d like to help you with that if you let me, Midoriya.”

Of course, he wants the help. Izuku’s just not used to it being so freely given, he’s overwhelmed with emotion and affection and joy. He throws himself around Aikkun, hugging him tight, and babbling thanks. Aikkun flails for a moment before hugging him back.

I think you can be a hero, Midoriya.

He wraps those words around his heart like a shield.

It’s the only thing Midoriya Izuku has ever wanted to hear his whole life.

Shouta’s brand new Problem Child spends the rest of lunch period crying into his uniform. He’s not the most comforting presence, but he’s able to get the Midoriya to stop crying at least and eat the rest of his lunch. They return to class just before the end of the period with Midoriya looking lighter than this morning.

Whatever comes next, Shouta thinks, he’s going to make sure to keep the promise.

Look at him, two days into his mission and things are growing ever more complicated. And there’s still the rest of the day to get through as well. Nedzu will certainly say something during Shouta’s report tonight, he’s sure.

The rest of the day follows in the same order as the first part. Classes remain mind-numbingly boring, but Shouta’s able to be excused during the last period in order to use the restroom. He, instead, pokes around for any security. But Aldera doesn’t seem to have an internal CCTV system in the school.

Definitely goes against the most recent mandates for schools in operation, but it’ll probably make Shouta’s job much easier when he has to break in. Though he still hasn’t checked over every part of the building yet. There wasn’t anything in the main office, though Fujiwara’s personal office had a camera positioned behind a potted plant that Shouta clocked.

The roof, also, was easily accessed. Though most people did not go up there. Shouta also did not see any cameras on there as well. You think there would be something outside of the buildings, especially an area as dangerous as the roof.

Either way, he enters the bathroom and takes a moment to himself. Day one in junior high again, it was certainly interesting to say the least. Examining the bathroom, he finds it in the same sort of casual disrepair as the rest of the school.

The blue-colored tile is faded from the sun in some places, missing in others. The soap dispensers are crooked, full of the liquidy pink soap that stinks over anything else, one of the faucets has a steady drip.

Clearly, if Aldera Junior High is receiving any sort of assistance to fix up the aging building, then it’s not going anywhere but where it’s supposed to go. The door opens as another student slips in.

Shouta makes a move to the sink, turns it on to wash his hands, and blows out a breath.

The thing about knowing someone since you were in diapers, Izuku reflects as the last bell rings, is that you have a pretty solid grasp on their personality at this point. In nature documentaries that his mom likes to watch (mainly to see the cute baby animals), they talk about what happens when an alpha male is threatened by an encroachment on his territory.

Note, nothing good happens. Not really.

Blood, carnage, angry animal noises, the works.

Looking at Kacchan stalking toward Aikkun, Izuku immediately knows that he’s going to witness one of these fights in real life. Or whatever the middle school equivalent to it is. For the first time in his life, Izuku doesn’t think that Kacchan will automatically get the win though.

“Eyebags,” he growls. “You, me, fight. Now.”

“No thanks,” Aikkun says, packing up his bag. He then stands up.

“Why the fuck not?! Are you a fucking coward or something?” Kacchan demands, letting off a couple of pops in frustration.

“Because I don’t see why I need to feed into your ego, Bakugou,” he says before tapping Izuku’s shoulder. “Midoriya, you wanna walk home together?”

“Oh!” Izuku jumps at that, finishing packing up his things. “That sounds really great, Aikkun!”

“Deku,” Kacchan grinds out. “Don’t fucking go anywhere with this ass.”

“I don’t see why you’re the one in charge of Midoriya’s time. Besides we’re neighbors. It’s logical to walk home together,” Aikkun says, tilting his head to the side. “Maybe it’s been a while since I’ve been in a regular school, but friends also do so as well.”

Everyone still left in the classroom freezes at that declaration, even Kacchan. It allows Izuku to get from his desk, away from where Kacchan can easily press his hands into his shoulder, burning his uniform (again).

His heart flips again at the declaration.

Friends.

Aikkun just said they were friends in front of the whole class.

“You can’t be friends with Deku!”

“There’s no law against it,” he steps in front of Izuku. Aikkun is…trying to protect him? “I like him more than you. At least, Midoriya isn’t a bully.”

The simple sentences of his new friend, spoken so plainly and in so few words, tears lodge themselves in Izuku’s throat. Kacchan is thrown with wide eyes, stunned into silence at being called a bully. His mouth opens and closes like a fish. Aikkun grabs his wrist and they walk out together. Izuku’s certain that tomorrow their desks are going to be boobytrapped to the extreme or something, the other kids will not like this.

But, in Izuku’s thirteen years on this planet, no one has stood up for him quite like Aikkun has.

Leaving Aldera blurs for Shouta into a riot of colors and actions. His blood pounds in his ears, and the anger settles in his veins. It’s a familiar feeling from when he was a kid before he learned to put on a mask, hide his emotions. Play smart, play careful, hold your cards close to the vest and make everyone think you have a shit hand.

But being in a classroom and seeing that casual cruelty again, Shouta nearly forgot his mission. This can help though. He’s experienced enough in undercover operations to make a set back into a victory. He also needs the others to know Midoriya has someone on his side.

It’s only the first day though. He was right. Second-year middle school students are, objectively, the worst.

“Um Aikkun?” warbles out Midoriya. Oh, he’s crying again, isn’t he? “I don’t think they’re going to hunt us down. I think they were too surprised to.”

He stops suddenly and Midoriya stumbles, bumping into him.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. Sometimes, bullies back off when you stand up to them. Other times? Other times, it gets worse. He can’t look at Midoriya.

“Don’t apologize,” insists the kid. “Never apologize for what you just did Aikkun. You were a real hero, you know?”

Shouta turns at that.

Midoriya’s wrist is still in his hand, but his free hand rests on top of it. His green eyes let some tears leak out. His mouth shows a tremulous yet genuine smile.

“A real hero, huh?”

The Problem Child nods.

“You’re going to be one too,” he affirms.

Chapter Text

That night after his first day at Aldera Junior High, Shouta receives a check-in call from Nedzu to see how he is settling in. It comes in on a special burner phone that Shouta has hidden in the apartment. Just in case someone tries to break in and search for things later on.

He also checked his apartment for bugs, of which there were none. Always a good habit to get into on an undercover operation though.

“Uncle,” he greets drolly while cooking a midnight snack. By midnight, he meant that he was making fancy cup ramen (fancy because he adds fresh vegetables and an egg to it). No one is listening in, but it’s good to get into the habit. One thing that Shouta had forgotten about being a teenager is being so damn hungry all the time.

“The line is free and clear, Aizawa,” Nedzu greets. “How is the investigation into Aldera?”

Excellent, Shouta can speak freely then.

“I’m making my own map of the school because I’m going to have break-in at some point. I can definitely say that whatever money they’re getting from grants for disadvantaged schools to fix it up isn’t going into the facilities. Kids definitely run wild and there is a major bullying problem. The majority of which seems to be focused on Midoriya Izuku, who I have made contact with,” he says as he assembles his meal.

“And how is Midoriya?”

“Smart,” Aizawa says after a moment. “He’s smart, Nedzu, but people hate him for his quirk status. I’ve scared off the bullies, or, at least, marked myself. So, who knows what will come in the future?”

“Well, that’s high praise coming from you, Aizawa. As for the target you’ve painted, it’s necessary. Not only does it provide protection for Midoriya-kun, but it can allow for you to have more interactions with teachers and Fujiwara.”

“I made direct contact with one of the suspicious cases. Yama with the sterilization quirk.”

“Ah Yama Aito? Did you notice anything odd?”

“No,” It bothers Shouta little bit. “I didn’t recognize him as a former villain either. He was nice to Midoriya. It seems like she may be looking out for the kid. And the two that are second-year teachers, I haven’t had much direct interaction with, so I wasn’t able to get too much on them. Outside of one having an atrocious accent for English class. Hizashi would be appalled.” 

Direct contact is better for Shouta to get a read on people. All he can tell from Yoritaka Haruto and Nagosi Dai is that they’re clearly fumbling their way through their lessons. Not all teachers are gifted in teaching, of course, but they are definitely ill-suited for the role. And that will only hurt the little brats in the long run, in his humble opinion.

“And the principal?”

“The only security measures I was able to clock in at the school were in his office. And even then, they were paltry. He’s definitely involved and is clearly reaping some sort of benefit from it.”

“Hmm. Fujiwara went to the Tokyo Heroics Academy for a time if my memory serves.”

Nedzu already knew this, of course. Shouta confirms it anyway, “He did.”

“I know the principal there. I’ll see if I can get anything out of them regarding why Fujiwara was transferred out.”

That could be helpful, but Shouta’s not holding their breath. Heroes schools keep all information about students on lockdown, even the lower-ranked ones. The only time they don’t is with a black mark on the student’s record.

“It’s logical,” Shouta agrees. “If Fujiwara made any contacts in the criminal world, then it would have been there.”

“Agreed!” Nedzu chirps. “I’ll speak with you in a week at the same time, Aizawa.”

A week into Aikkun coming into his life, Izuku is sure that his new friend is probably the best thing that has ever happened to him. And he’s counting that time when that nice lady who owns the noodle stand (emitter type quirk, can keep water boiling for extended periods) gave him free meals for a week after he led away a bunch of bullies that were harassing her kid (emitter type, creates hot air from his hands). She still charges him half price whenever he comes by.

Or the time he swooped in with the winning bid for an ultra-rare Bronze Age All Might figure on HeroBay, snatching victory from the jaws of his eternal rival on that site, FarSight. Either way, Aikkun in his life made him…happy. They ate lunch together now. Aikkun’s glare kept some of the other bullies away from him. His desk hasn’t been messed with in a couple of days either!

It happened once in the week that Aikkun had come into his life. And the glare that his friend had given the whole classroom actually made someone (Itori mutant type quirk, has a pouch like a kangaroo) scream in fright.  Yeah, it sucked that Aikkun had to be sent to the Principal’s office, but he just rolled his eyes when Izuku asked about it and said he got a warning.

No one has messed with Izuku’s desk in the days since then. Kacchan still tries to pick fights with Aikkun, who either snarks back at him or outright ignores him. Izuku has never seen Kacchan so uncertain about what to do with someone in his life. It’s, well, not funny, but it’s something to see the other boy so baffled in a way that Izuku hasn’t seen him in years.

Aikkun also wants to help Izuku train for UA, which is great. Right now, it’s a lot of stretches and they go on runs together after school. But it’s good. The steady beat of his feet on the pavement helps his mind just kind of blissfully tune out. He’s still pretty sore, but Aikkun says that’ll come with time and practice. It’s just the first week, after all.

He’s also really interested in Izuku’s analysis as well. He knows that it can be a little weird and creepy. Or people say that it’s weird and creepy, but Aikkun doesn’t think that it’s weird and creepy at all! He seemed to be really into what Izuku had to say about heroes. He asked him about villain quirks a couple of days ago.

“There’s not a lot of publicly available data,” Izuku said idly after Aikkun asked. “And I can only get so much from the occasional hero fight I see in person or the clips posted to HeroTube. And those are the big villains too. The more minor ones are barely mentioned at all. Hero quirks are a bit easier because, well, there’s a larger data pool. Of course, its varies as well. Limelight heroes are easier to figure out than underground. Rescue heroe and intelligence heroes are somewhere in the middle. And…”

His mouth snapped shut at that.

“You don’t care about that.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care,” Aikkun said simply as they walked to school together. “One of our teachers’ quirks reminded me of a villain that I heard about once.”

Izuku considered that thoughtfully, “Which one?”

“Nagosi-sensei.”

Ah. Yes. Izuku knew what Aikkun meant.

Nagosi-sensei had transformation quirk, focused on his hands. He could mold them into any tool he needed: axes, screwdrivers, and whatnot. It couldn’t be heavier than his arm or lighter than regular Philip’s head screwdriver. It had reminded Izuku of a quirk he had heard about on a forum for a thief that was working up in Hokkaido.

Actually, that thief disappeared around the time Nagosi-sensei transferred into school.

“Huh,” Izuku murmured.

Shouta did regret piquing Midoriya’s interest with the question about Nagosi. But over the past week of knowing the kid, the one thing that Shouta learned above all else was that Midoriya Izuku knew quirks. He knew them intimately and closely. He also knew quirks well. While a several of the villains who went missing and, presumably, were now at Aldera had fairly ordinary or common quirks, there were a couple that would be memorable.

Especially to a quirk analyst like Midoriya. So, Shouta had asked. It was a calculated risk. He didn’t want to drag the boy in further, that would be reckless. But he also needed a confirmation.

“Now that I think about it,” Midoriya says the day after Shouta had asked him, twisting his hands in thought. “Nagosi-sensei does have a similar quirk to that thief in Hokkaido that disappeared. I wonder if they’re related? It’s odd. For two people to have similar quirks and not be related. The Hokkaido Thief, he disappeared before Nagosi-sensei started teaching at Aldera. That’s…concerning.”

Midoriya’s brow furrows and Shouta can see the kid making connections.

“It’s probably a coincidence,” he says, trying to get the green-haired middle schooler off the scent.

“Maybe, but considering that I think the principal is embezzling from the school, it’s not that far off that he’d let a criminal hide out there,” Midoriya replies absentmindedly as they got closer to Aldera.

“What.”

Freckled hands clamp over his mouth as wide green eyes look at Shouta.

“Oopsie,” Midoriya mutters from behind his hands, voice muffled.

Oh God, this kid will be the death of Shouta. And he really has no one to blame but himself.

“Explain it to me again,” Aikkun commands at lunchtime. As soon as the bell rang, he grabbed Izuku and dragged him out of the room and onto the rooftop. Maybe it was the look on his friend’s face, but no one tried to stop or harass them. “About why you think that the principal is embezzling from the school.”

“Oh.”  

Aikkun wants to hear his theories? No one ever wants to hear about Izuku’s theories.

“Um, well,” Izuku twists his fingers and leans in. “F-Fujiwara-sensei filed for grants to update the school, you know? I overheard him talking to one of the teachers’ last year. And I looked it up. Those things get approved p-pretty routinely, especially for older buildings. Al-Aldera was on the list. It’s in publicly available records. However, I guess that they don’t check in on how the money is being s-spent? A-Anyway, around the time that grants w-would have been approved, Fujiwara-sensei got a n-new car. And I just assumed? B-Because there’s been no work around the school, not even a fresh coat of paint t-to just let people think up-updates are being done.”

“Interesting,” his friend says thoughtfully. He runs a hand through his short cheek-length hair and musses it up. “And you didn’t go to the police?”

“P-People don’t believe quirkless kids. I-I didn’t have any evidence.”

“I believe you,” Aikkun says firmly, which makes Izuku’s heart flutter. His friend has his eyes narrowed like he’d fight anyone who didn’t believe him. “I don’t like the vibes I’m getting from that guy.”

“Yeah. Neither do I.”

Granted, there wasn’t anything the two of them could do. They were second-year students in middle school. Sure, in anime and stuff, middle schoolers can solve all sorts of crimes and everything. But that’s anime and this is real life. Fujiwara-sensei was…not nice and possibly a criminal. So Izuku didn’t really know what to do with himself, except try to remember the man when he became a pro and then launch an investigation into him.

Or maybe when he got his provisional license? That could work.

“Midoriya,” Aikkun’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Sorry! I-I got lost in thought there for a second. W-What do we do?”

“Nothing. I mean there’s nothing we can do. I have an Uncle who works in law enforcement. I’ll tell him.”

Oh! Oh good. That’s a relief. Izuku’s sure that he’ll get better nerves when he’s training for hero work, but solving a crime with an actual criminal kind of sounds terrifying.

“That’s pretty smart, Aikkun,” he pauses for a second. “And lucky.”

“Yeah,” Aikkun looks out from the roof consideringly. “Lucky.”

After classes finished for the day, Bakugou decided to try his luck again with Shouta. He’ll give the kid this: he’s persistent. Or, well, persistent like that little yappy dog that Hizashi’s mom has, who will keep on barking when she’s not in direct eyeline of the poor thing. Weirdest thing is that it only happens when she’s in the house and he knows that she’s in the house. Never happens when she’s clearly left.

At the very least, Shouta allows: the dog may have better manners than Bakugou. He can practically feel the blonde’s glare onto his back. He only has enough bandwidth for one loud blonde and that man is probably racing to the radio studio right about now. Shouta shakes off the little pang of missing Hizashi terribly.

From the way Bakugou has his gaze on Shouta, it feels like the other boy is trying to light him on fire with his mind.

Ugh. He had enough with middle school bullies on a power trip the first time around. More importantly, he had a lead to dig into more in terms of Fujiwara. The man just oozed smug douchebaggery when Shouta had been sent to his office the other day.

Gross. People need to be psychologically screened before being allowed to teach or have administrative power over children.

Either way, Shouta’s had a feeling that whatever was going on in this school was centered around the principal. Midoriya opened an avenue of investigation to Shouta, which made him want to get the kid into UA’s hero course even more. More importantly, he wants to snatch Midoriya into the world of Underground Heroics and let the kid wreak all the havoc in the world while he cheered on approvingly. He may have to fight a couple of Intelligence or Twilight Heroes, but Shouta found him first.

All Shouta sees with the kid is potential, and someone who desperately needs to be bolstered up. Somei Academy isn’t too far from here, maybe he can ask Tensei to put in a word when the assignment is over? Midoriya needs a better school environment.

“Hey! Eyebags!” Bakugou growls out as Shouta was putting on his street shoes at his getabako. Midoriya was waiting for him by the gate, right in Shouta’s eyeline, having made a beeline with practice ease. He, however, had to wait for a few extra minutes since the girl right below him had a broken arm and was still clumsy with her cast. And that’s when he started feeling Bakugou’s gaze on him.

Shouta ignores the blonde in order to put on his shoes. Unlike his younger years, he isn’t as quick to anger. And even though those fourteen-year-old feelings have welled up inside of him, the twenty-eight-year-old’s logical brain is keeping them stamped down.

“Oi! Extra! I’m fucking talking to you.”

At the sound of the pops of Bakugou’s explosion, Shouta sends a glare at the blonde, silencing his quirk. He had to make sure to consciously keep his hair down as he did it. Bakugou scowls angrily.

“Stop fucking doing that!”

“No,” Shouta says, resisting the urge to flip the kid off. “You can’t always use your powerful quirk to get your way, Bakugou.”

“Tch, shows what you know.”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Fucking stay away from Deku. I don’t know what kind of fucked up game you’re angling at—”

“I’m not angling at anything,” Shouta feels deeply, deeply tired. He’s also pretty done with the other boy’s shit. “I like Midoriya. He’s my friend. Does that really bother you that much? That someone likes him for him? That someone wants to be his friend? Or does it bother you that I’m brave enough to be his friend while you were coward enough to become his bully, Kacchan?”

Shouta knows his voice took a silky tone at the end of it. The kind he uses when he was pushing buttons in an interrogation. However, he does see a slight widening of Bakugou’s eyes at the use of word bully and the childhood nickname that Midoriya still insists on calling him.

Interesting.

Shouta takes little pleasure in pushing the buttons of a middle schooler, for all he looks that age himself. Sure, Bakugou is a bully and he’s tempted into telling Nedzu to put that kid’s application in the reject pile when he does get inevitably apply to UA. But he’s also the product of the environment he’s been brought up in.

Fuck, maybe the kid can change, but he’s not optimistic about it.

Looking around and seeing the way that the teachers fawn over him and his quirk? The way the other students do as well? It’s coming from all sides and leading to a dangerously inflated ego. Egos lead to deaths in heroics. Egos lead to heroes like Endeavor. Shouta will be damned if he lets that jackass get an encore performance in a future hero.

Shouta considers Bakugou, who looks ready to set off his quirk again. How annoying. He wonders if Midoriya won’t mind them stopping so he can get more of his preferred brand of eye drops.

Either way, Shouta activates his quirk.

“Let me ask you this, Bakugou,” he drawls out, feeling every inch of his true age. “If the situations were reversed; you were quirkless and Midoriya had his quirk, would he do to you what you’ve done to him?”

The blonde jumps back like he’d been physically struck.

Shouta blinks, cancelling his quirk, and going to meet Midoriya by the front gate.

“E-Everything okay, Aikkun?” the teen asks softly, twisting his hands. “You were gone a long time.”

“I’m fine. Someone asked me a question about tonight’s math homework.” He looks over at Midoriya. “Do you mind if we stop so I can get some eyedrops on the way home? We can start training a bit late today.”

“S-Sure! I’m gonna beat my time today, Aikkun. I just know it!”

Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise Shouta. Midoriya was determined and just as laser-focused on physical training as he was in school. He clearly just needed someone to show him how to do so safely.

“We’ll see,” he replies lightly, maybe a little bit fond. “Come on, Midoriya. Let’s head home.”

Chapter Text

Most people think that Aizawa Shouta is a harsh and unforgiving bastard, which is true. Shouta had spent years perfecting that persona. In his past few years of teaching at UA and his years of underground heroics before that, he made sure to perfect that into an art form. He’s a taskmaster, who has yet to find a first-year homeroom class that he wants to follow all the way to graduation.

He's the sort of hero that law enforcement is glad to have the case, but not one that they want to see outside of work. People are difficult for Shouta, in a way that is hard for him to explain. Or he just doesn’t have the patience for them.

Part of it is due to his childhood, his real childhood, it was hard growing up with a quirk like Erasure. Even without the label of a “weak” or “villainous” quirk following him around, he was pretty much destined to have trouble making friends. Shouta has seen pictures of himself as a child, given places of pride around the home of his parents. Even Hizashi keeps a double frame with a picture of Shouta and him as children somewhere in their home, it always startles Shouta like a jump scare.

Shouta was a sickly, ill-tempered child, who did not take too sugar-sweet tones of baby talk or abide by idiots even then. His mother still chuckles, remembering how his preschool teachers tried to tiptoe around saying that her four-year-old made them feel like idiots.

Even before his quirk came in, Shouta was primed to have difficulty making friends.

Then his quirk came in and everything basically took a nosedive until UA. Even now, Shouta sometimes feels like his small friend group likes him despite his personality, not because of it. The only one he doesn’t doubt is Hizashi, who he loves with everything in him and who loves him just as fiercely back.

And…Oboro.

He doesn’t doubt that Oboro liked him for him.

That is to say, it surprises Shouta when he realizes that he does enjoy spending time with Midoriya. It’s only two weeks almost three weeks in, but Shouta’s attached now. It’s painful because he has a life to get back: an adult life of adult responsibilities.

But Midoriya is sweet: bright and cheerful. When he’s not in Aldera now, he reminds Shouta so much of Oboro that it hurts a little, like poking a wound that has only mostly healed. In private, around Shouta, he forgets to stutter now. They’re sitting together in the Midoriya’s living room, studying for an upcoming test. They’ve taken a day off the green-haired boy’s training in order to study for it.

Midoriya, however, seems pretty confident about things. Shouta has a feeling that he’s been downplaying his intelligence. The past three tests that Midoriya has gotten back have been good grades, but he’s noticed a pattern forming in the questions that he’s getting wrong.

“Aikkun!”

Shouta snaps back to himself at Midoriya’s voice, “Sorry. I was lost in my own head.”

He’s met by a wide grin that is so familiar it hurts.

“Tired of studying? Me too.” Midoriya fidgets for a minute. “I-I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere. With me. I mean you don’t have to but I was thinking well…”

“Well?” Shouta raises an eyebrow.

“You like cats, r-right?”

Midoriya’s observant and Shouta hasn’t kept his fondness a secret. He has a few clothes with cats on them and he walks to Aldera every day with the boy. Shouta can’t help but try to make friends with stray cats.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

His answer is rewarded with a bright, sunshine smile.

“There’s a cat café that opened up. And since I think we’re both done studying, we’re getting whatever grade we’re getting at this point. Maybe we can stop for a bit?”

Shouta does want a caffeinated beverage. He’s planning to break into Aldera tonight now that he’s had a few weeks to note the blind spots and the lackluster security.

More importantly, the places where the security is a bit too present, mainly Fujiwara’s office.

“That sounds pretty good,” Shouta agrees, ducking his head at Midoriya beams at him.

Izuku knew that the cat café was the perfect place to bring up to Aikkun. These past couple of weeks have been like a dream to him, and he really wanted to do something nice for his friend. However, he didn’t want to make it seem like it was anything special. Aikkun, Izuku thinks, doesn’t like to have a fuss being made over him.

He doesn’t seem to be the type.

Either way, Izuku gets to fuss over his friend a bit. Aikkun has done a lot for Izuku. He’s helping him get a head start on training for the hero school practical exams. He believes in Izuku. Sure now, they’re just building up his stamina, but it’s still really nice of him. None of the dojos or gyms around here will take him due to his status. So, yes, he wants to do something nice for his friend, without making a big deal about him doing something nice for him.

He knows sooner or later at school the other shoe will drop. People have been leaving him alone because they’re scared of Aikkun’s quirk. Izuku is powerless all of the time, so he wouldn’t know what Nullify feels like for them. But it must be a shock and an uncomfortable one to have access to the one thing that makes them feel superior over, well, Izuku.

Izuku, in his more uncharitable moments, doesn’t think that it’s enough to give them a jump start on basic empathy toward those different from them. They know how he feels briefly, but he doesn’t think it will transfer into them having empathy for him all the time. Even with his lack of a quirk, Izuku knows that he’s too…weird? Weird.

When he was little and Kacchan was Kacchan, his best friend in the whole wide world, he knew that the other kids only hung around him because Kacchan liked him. If Kacchan was sick or couldn’t come out to play, then Izuku would be playing alone that day. He just turned other kids his age off by just his personality. He was too excitable and anxious, rambled too much and his mumbling was creepy. Izuku loved quirk analysis to an uncomfortable degree.

But maybe he did know how to make friends, a little bit. Maybe it’s not as hard as he thinks. Aikkun seems to like him well enough, and that has to mean something.

The walk to the cat café isn’t far from their apartment building. So long as Izuku is back by eight, then his Mom doesn’t mind. She’s been smiling more because Izuku has been smiling more lately. The only sign that maybe him hiding away how miserable he’s been for, well, years wasn’t as well done as he had hoped.

He and Aikkun walk in silence together and it’s a nice feeling. Izuku sometimes feels like he has to fill silences with his words like the quiet can be just a hair too awkward. However, right now, he doesn’t need to.

It feels good as he and Aikkun head inside the cat café and pays for the hour and drinks with the room of cats. His friend immediately flops down on a couch with a coffee in hand while Izuku sticks to tea. Maybe Aikkun will do some studying later tonight?

Izuku is about to sit down when he hears a “Hey, having existential crises that only cats can cure over here.”  

He jumps and turns around to apologize, blushing a little at the tired-eyed purple-haired boy he is about to sit on. Oh…

Oh no. He’s cute. And Izuku almost sat on him.

Shouta watches the interaction in front of him with mild amusement.

He noticed the purple-haired teen, who could have been in late middle school or early high school. It was hard to tell outright, he was tall and in street clothes. Midoriya, however, was so deep into his thoughts that he almost sat on the other boy. He’ll definitely need to get some situational awareness training through that curly green head of his.

(Not really. Midoriya has great situational awareness, too great due to his circumstances. He just was…relaxed. Because he trusted Shouta.

And Shouta was worried about what would happen when this case ended. Midoriya needed proper friends his age.)

“I-I’m so s-sorry!” Midoriya bows deeply to the other teen. His face was bright red in embarrassment.

The purple-haired kid sits up on his elbows and the cats that were covering him like a blanket meow in protest. God, Shouta wishes he had that luck, being drowned in cats sounds like a dream way to go. He sips his coffee as he watches the scene, and notices how the other boy takes in Midoriya before his cheeks turn pink.

What.

Sure, Shouta knows that middle schoolers have crushes and confessions. It wasn’t part of his life because he was trying to get into a hero program come hell or high water. Romance didn’t happen until he turned twenty-one and Hizashi got mad at him for forgetting their first anniversary. That’s how Shouta learned that the pair of them had, apparently, been dating for a year.

Nemuri laughed herself sick over that. She brought it up at their wedding. She still brings it up from time to time.

But Midoriya was Shouta’s…responsibility. And he’s already had his heart broken several times over, he doesn’t want his kid to go through that with strange purple-haired boys who cover themselves in cats. Who covers themselves in cats? Someone with something to hide, that’s who.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shinsou-kun!” Midoriya chirps when Shouta tunes back into the conversation. He’s smiling: shy and sweet. And, oh God, there’s a blush on those cheeks: a soft pink color. “Aikkun, come and meet Shinsou!”

The purple-haired boy finally notices Shouta and eyes him up and down. Then he looks between Midoriya and him trying to figure out his relationship.

Ew. No. He’s married and not actually fourteen, thank you very much.

“I’m Aikawa Shohei,” Shouta introduces. “Midoriya-kun is my friend.”

Shinsou relaxes at that, “Shinsou Hitoshi.”

“We were talking about Present Mic a little,” Midoriya says brightly. “Shinsou’s a fan.”

Shouta feels himself soften a little bit. He sees the Put Your Hand’s Up Radio hoodie that Shinsou is wearing, though covered in cat hair.

“Present Mic’s cool,” he agrees. Hizashi will tease him relentlessly, but his husband is cool. And Shouta misses him like an ache.

“Right?” Midoriya agrees, sitting down on a chair that gives him the best vantage point between Shinsou and Shouta. “Voice quirks are super fascinating and so rare! Present Mic’s quirk is literally his voice, which shows such a precise amount of control that shows his utter dedication to the mastery of it.”

“I have a vocal quirk,” Shinsou blurts out. His face is pink, probably said it to impress Midoriya. He then looks like he wants the floor to swallow him about ten seconds later. He has a vocal quirk, but one he’s embarrassed about. Or worried about Midoriya’s reaction to.

“Oh! You do? Can I ask what it is? I love analyzing quirks.”

“He does,” Shouta confirms after seeing the kid hesitate for a few seconds. “I’ve seen the notebooks.”

“Brainwashing,” Shinsou mutters after a moment. His eyes turn a bit wary, fucking quirk discrimination. “If I have my quirk active and someone responds to a question, then I can command them.”

He looks between Shouta and Midoriya nervously. It gives Shouta the perfect idea of what the kid has been going through. Well, fuck.

“That. Is. So. Cool!” Midoriya says with big eyes. He leans closer to Shinsou, who turns bright pink. “That’s a perfect non-violent takedown quirk if you want to get into heroics. Do you want to become an underground hero? I mean if you want to go limelight. You could. If you want to go into heroics, I mean. Think of the applications though! Does it have to be a question? Or can it be a call and response? Or if you sing something catchy and someone joins in will that activate your quirk? The applications are endless. Such a cool quirk.”

Shinsou stares at Midoriya with wide eyes. Any trace of tiredness that was on the other’s boy face had vanished. Oh yeah, Shouta was seeing a lifelong adoration bloom.

“R-Really?” he asks softly. “You, uh, don’t think it’s a villain’s quirk?”

Ugh. Shinsou had exactly the sort of experience that was similar to Shouta’s own. So, well, he really can’t hate the kid. Even if he was giving the moon eyes to Shouta’s…kid? Friend? He liked Midoriya. If he’d met the teen the first time he was a teenager, then he may have made his way into Shouta’s cold dead heart. But he knew when the assignment was over, he’d figure out a way to keep the bright green-eyed boy in his life. He needed someone in his corner.

More importantly, Midoriya needed an adult in his corner who wasn’t his Mom. And Shouta wants, when he’s back to his proper age, to be that adult for him.

He looks to Midoriya who has been quietly thoughtful after Shinsou’s question.

“Do you want to do heroic things with your quirk? Help others? Stop people from being hurt?” Midoriya asks Shinsou, softly.

“Yes,” the answer was immediate.

Green eyes crinkle in the corners from the force of his grin. It’s the kind of smile that Shouta believed in once when he was younger. A kind of smile that he thought could save the world, maybe it can. Midoriya grabs Shinsou’s hands in his own.

“Then, Shinsou-kun, your quirk is a hero’s quirk. And I think you’ll be a great hero with it.”

Both of their faces were a pale pink. Shouta feels like the friend in a romance anime: one of the cheesy and over-the-top ones that Nemuri secretly loves. Either way, he has a government-sanctioned B&E to prepare for in a few hours and a Problem Child to get home. And he wants to enjoy the rest of the hour with the cats without having to witness an awkward middle school flirtation session in front of him.

He was a high school teacher and he had his fill of the year already witnessing the weird mating dance of Togata and Amajiki.

Shouta clears his throat, making Midoriya and Shinsou jump apart like they had been caught doing something. It’s almost cute. Shouta sips his mug of coffee without breaking eye contact with them.

“So,” the purple-haired teen clears his throat. “What are your quirks?”

Midoriya freezes a bit and takes a step back, nervously. Shouta can see the fear in his eyes. He wonders how often this would happen to him: thinking he make a new friend and then the question of quirks comes up.

But he sees Midoriya’s spine steel. He has to give it to the kid, he’s got bravery in spades. Even though he shouldn’t have to be brave. Not over something that he cannot change, but Shouta admires it, even as it breaks his heart.

“I’m…quirkless,” Midoriya says softly, twisting his hands.

Shouta snaps his eyes over to Shinsou, waiting to see the other boy’s reaction.

The kid looks at Midoriya and smiles, almost gently on his tired face, “Alright. And you know so much about quirks that’s pretty badass.”

Midoriya loses that hesitancy and smiles, “Oh. Uh. Thank you!”

Shinsou’s eyes shifted to Shouta, who sighs, “Nullify. I can nullify any quirk so long as my eyes glow.”

“Oh! That’s pretty chill. Like Eraserhead?”

How many middle school fans does Shouta have? He was Underground for a reason.

Shouta nods though and takes another drink of his coffee as Midoriya and Shinsou discuss…him. Ugh. This is weirdly embarrassing. But he can also see the promise in the duo as Underground heroes. Maybe a Twilight hero for Midoriya, someone like Sir Nighteye who has a public presence and fans, but works in intelligence gathering and analyzing. Or well, you know what? Nah.

Shouta wants both for the Underground. He found them first. But, you know, there are other options as well that can present themselves.

For now, Shouta feels a warm sense of fondness in his chest. Part of him does feel bad that when he returns to his proper physical age that he’d have to leave Midoriya behind. Shinsou is also a student at Somei Academy, which is good. Midoriya will have a built-in friend there if Shouta’s able to pull the right strings.

Somei Academy is one of the top junior highs in Japan. While UA doesn’t have any “feeder” schools per se, a lot of Somei graduates do go into the various educational tracks at UA. If not there, then Shiketsu and the other top-ranked high schools in the country, if not the world. Or they go into the high school branch of Somei.

Shouta himself is not an alum. His parents made good money and Shouta had good grades, but not Somei scholarship grades. So he went to a solid private junior high that made him quietly miserable.

But it wasn’t that reason though. Somei had one of the strictest anti-bullying policies in the country and under the current headmasters of the different school branches enforced it handily. The headmaster of the junior high was, in fact, quirkless. He got into the school as part of nepotism, but once there earned his way to the top position through merit. No one liked to bring that up though, but Shouta knew Midoriya would be safe there.

For now, he was content to watch Midoriya make a new friend: one his own actual age. He thinks Akatani would be happy to know that things were going well for his little friend. Shouta will have Nedzu pass on a message to the kid.

The Support Course student deserves that peace of mind, at least.

Breaking into Aldera Junior High is child’s play. Shouta always carried lockpicks and about three weeks of examining the school (and an extra trip to the principal’s office for an additional lecture) told him all he needed to know.

He takes out his special Herograde smartphone with Nedzu upgrades, hacking into the school’s wi-fi, using techniques that Nedzu had ingrained into Shouta when he was the principal’s personal student. More importantly, Shouta targets security cameras that the principal kept around his office. He loops the security footage so that the man will see a blank office if he decides to look back on it.

Certain that’s handled, Shouta deftly picks the lock on the principal’s door.  He eyes the room for a moment, trying to make sure there’s nothing he missed. And…there! Shouta sees something flash against the bottom of the door: a laser trip wire. He takes out the phone and looks through the camera mode.

Three laser tripwires: one on the door, one by the windows, and one in front of a suspiciously new cabinet. Clearly, Fujiwara remembered some of the hero training he had received, though not well. But the only thing worse than a stupid criminal is a stupid criminal trying to be clever.

Shouta steps over the tripwire. Easy as breathing, he lets his capture weapon fly, looping over an overhead fluorescent light by the guarded cabinet. Like the pre-quirk superhero stories of Spider-Man, Shouta hangs upside down. He grabs a flashlight and turns it on, holding it in between his teeth.

Fujiwara didn’t leave his office during the day, possibly to keep an eye on the cabinet. Shouta’s own practiced eyes and paranoia don’t see any further attempts to sabotage the cabinet. He reaches out to pull it open, holding his breath as he does so.

Nothing happens.

Excellent.

Let’s see what Fujiwara is hiding then.

Chapter Text

Aikkun looks worried. He tries to hide it, but Izuku has been reading people’s faces since he was a small child. It was, after all, a facial twitch between knowing if someone was going to try to kick your ass or not. So, Izuku studied everything he could about body language and nonverbal communication right before he went into junior high. Honestly, it has helped cut down on the ass-kicking slightly, but mainly it just made it a lot easier to read people in the long term.

Either way, it’s a great tool for hero work. Either way, it doesn’t detract from Izuku’s first thought about his friend.

Aikkun is worried, and that worries Izuku. He’s been quiet for the past couple of days and looks more tired than usual. Shinsou-kun said in their private messages that his friend was probably having a bad streak of insomnia, he’d recognize a fellow insomniac from their one face-to-face meeting.

Izuku doesn’t quite think it was run-of-the-mill insomnia. Aikkun wasn’t exactly a sunshine and rainbows sort of person, which was fine! But there was an edge to his friend that made Izuku want to help, but he also knows more than most that you cannot make someone talk.

He’s living proof of that.

So that’s why Izuku decided to surprise him. There was a tea shop near the apartment that made their own blends. His mom swore by the one that helps promote restful sleep. Sometimes, she had issues getting to sleep after a night shift in the ER, but she said the sleep tea tended to knock her out and kept her out. Once he and Aikkun had walked home, Izuku had begged off hanging out after school. It wasn’t a scheduled training session day. He just said that he had a couple of chores to do for his mother. He wanted the tea to be a surprise for his Aikkun.

Aikkun merely raised an eyebrow in curiosity but didn’t push.

Maybe they could do something fun soon? There was a day coming up at the nearby water park soon, discounts for local students. That could be fun. Well, maybe? Izuku hated the thought of running into someone else from school and them trying to drown him or something. Or they could go see a movie.

Movies are better now that Izuku thinks about it. He knew a pretty cool and cheap theater that showed a lot of old-school pre-quirk movies. It was a lot of fun, but more importantly, didn’t draw a huge crowd like the local first-run cinemas. Izuku didn’t think Aikkun was a crowd of people sort of person.

Which he could relate to. Izuku gets a bit nervous in crowds. It just feels so oppressive at times, like everything is pressing in on him from all sides. And it’s just, not fun. Most times when he’s in crowds then it’s usually if he got to see a hero fight in person. Even then, he’s usually too absorbed in analyzing to think about being around other people. But just a big crowd makes him feel…weird.

Either way, Izuku had slipped out of his apartment and headed out to the tea shop. One of his favorite quirk analysis podcasts plays in an earbud, the host’s voice is soft and soothing. Sometimes he listens to old episodes that he himself had analyzed a hundred times in order to fall asleep.

“Deku.”

Ah.

Shit.

If Izuku didn’t know that he was quirkless with the toe joint and everything, then he’d think that he would have a passive emitter jinx quirk of some sort.

Kacchan has been leaving Izuku alone for the past couple of weeks since Aikkun has come to school. Mainly because the other boy has so thoroughly baffled Kacchan that the blonde hasn’t had time to think of his usual punching bag.

Over the past few days, Kacchan’s been…thoughtful, quiet in a way that his former childhood friend rarely is. It’s unnerving, but Izuku’s school days have been pleasant enough lately. Aikkun’s quirk has the class scared and his clear protectiveness over Izuku has been noted. But Izuku knew the other shoe was going to drop soon.

Might as well be now. At least he’s not in his gakuran at any rate, those things were expensive to replace and Mom had just enough for the replacement.

“O-Oh, um, hi K-Kacchan,” Izuku mumbles, twisting his fingers.

It figures the first time he went out alone in a while that his former best friend turned bully would be lying in wait for him.

Kacchan is still in his uniform. He must not have been home yet, though where he went Izuku wasn’t sure. Aikkun tends to rush them both out of Aldera as quickly as possible, which Izuku’s not mad about. Crimson eyes glare down at him, but even though it’s hard Izuku forces himself to meet Kacchan’s gaze.

Izuku’s been brave for so long, even when he was tired and scared. A lot of the time, he just wants to be left alone. But people needed someone to defend them or to take the heat off of them, so most times Izuku tries to do it. He tries to be a hero. He tries to be brave, even when it’s hard.

He was brave a few nights ago when he told Shinsou-kun the truth about himself. He’s tired of being brave against Kacchan when all he wants to do is before a small child before quirks mattered so damn much, dreaming of being a hero with his best friend.

But bravery isn’t something you can fold up and put away when you’re tired of it. Bravery is something constant, even if you’re scared. Maybe especially then. So Izuku digs up that bravery from inside of him and wears it like a little kid with a security blanket.

Kacchan just stares at Izuku though. And Izuku doesn’t know what to make of the blonde’s gaze. When they were little, Izuku knew his friend better than himself and Kacchan could say the same. It was one of those friendships where you could barely tell when one person ended and the other began. However, it changed as all things are wont to do. Izuku got the diagnosis of Quirkless and Kacchan got the “perfect” quirk. And now, Izuku can barely breathe in the direction of the other boy without setting his temper off.

He misses those hazily remembered days of his childhood. Kacchan and Izuchan, Izuchan and Kacchan, they would run around holding hands, hunting bugs, playing heroes. Those memories are like an old photograph, faded and careworn. He wonders if Kacchan could even remember when he looked at Izuku with kindness instead of disgust.

So Izuku just looks at him, waiting for the other boy to speak. Statistically, it was better to wait for Kacchan to speak first, except when he wanted Izuku to speak first. Usually, however, Izuku’s best bet is to wait for the blonde to speak to him.

“Where’s your fucking shadow?”

Izuku could lie, but Kacchan would see right through him. The same as Izuku being able to see right through Kacchan’s lies in turn. They knew each other far too well for that. Deep down, you can’t lie to your reflection.

“He’s at hi-his apartment. I-I’m just running an errand to the t-tea store that Mom likes.”

Kacchan always liked Izuku’s mother and was polite to her in a way he wasn’t even to his own parents. It was especially prevalent after Izuku’s father died and Auntie moved in with them those first few months. Izuku’s mom is the only one to truly coax gentleness from Kacchan. It’s a calculated risk, but there’s nothing in his statement that it’s an outright lie. He hopes that Kacchan thinking that he’s running an errand or doing something nice for his Mom will allow the other boy to leave him alone.

The muscle in Kacchan’s mouth jumps and the boy flexes his hands.

“How is Auntie?”

…Izuku has no idea what’s going on here. For the first time since maybe the age of six, Kacchan is attempting to have a normal conversation with Izuku. He never asks him how his mother is doing. Izuku’s pretty sure Kacchan gets that news from Auntie Mitsuki. This is weird.

After all, it wasn’t like Izuku got the quirkless diagnosis and Kacchan dived headfirst into being an asshole. He went back and forth for a couple of years in the way kids do when they aren’t sure if they dislike someone or not. He would be Izuku’s friend Kacchan in private and his own personal worst nightmare in public.

“Um, M-Mom’s good. I’ll tell her y-you said hi?”

“Tch,” the blonde shrugs. “Tell her whatever the fuck you want to, nerd.”

“I…okay?”

There is no one else around, but ambushes weren’t Kacchan’s style. He prefers to do things head-on, rather than sneakily. It was that sort of directness that made Izuku…well not glad. No one is glad about being bullied. But Izuku prefers the directness of Kacchan’s aggression over the more subtle way people show their disdain for quirkless people.

The two of them stand looking at each other for a moment. Izuku feels the chasm between them even though they’re standing so close.

“D-Did you n-need something, K-Kacchan?”

Given how bizarre the whole conversation is Izuku genuinely has no clue if the question will set Kacchan off or not.

“Why do you still call me Kacchan?”

The blonde’s voice is…soft. Softer than Izuku’s heard it be in a long, long time. It startles an honest answer out of him. He doesn’t even think or consider or plan. His mouth, as his feet sometimes do, just moves on its own without him thinking about it. So quickly that Izuku doesn’t even stumble over his words.

“Because I miss Kacchan. I miss my friend. And I want you to be him again one day. I think if I say it enough, then I’ll have my friend back.”

Kacchan raises his hand and Izuku…

Izuku flinches.

It startles Kacchan, who snaps his hand back. There’s something in gaze. Something that Izuku hasn’t seen in a long, long, long time. And then he’s gone. He’s running away from Izuku, who just stands there.

He stands there until a nice old woman asks if he’s alright, that he’s been standing still for five minutes. Izuku apologizes and heads to buy tea for Aikkun.

He has no idea what just happened.

Shouta definitely needs to dive more into Aldera because what he found a few days ago in the file cabinet was…concerning. The pictures he had taken were left in an encrypted hard drive in a dead drop that he and Nedzu had set up in the prep for this assignment.

Fujiwara, from what he was able to gather, is hiring former low-level villains as teachers, giving them cover identities, paying them half of what a normal salary is for a teacher, and pocketing the rest. Or, given the copy of the banned biography of Destro that Shouta found tucked away, donating it to whatever cells of the Meta Liberation Army is still active.

It looks like Fujiwara was trying to stack the deck. Oh sure, the curriculum did not change. It was perfectly up to standard for the area. But with villains without actual teaching degrees to teach badly to students and a social atmosphere where quirks run amuck…

It’s smart and insidious. Children spent most of their days at school. The ages of middle schoolers were when you started to set your ideals and opinions. Not that bad ones can’t be unlearned, but it’s a process and a lot of people hate to admit that they were wrong. Fujiwara was letting the teachings of Destro pop up in an environment without actually teaching Destro’s philosophies. He just made the right sort of bad melting pot and let students turn.

Add in quirkless students like Akatani and Midoriya? It only served to reinforce the lesson. That quirked people are inherently better than the baseline humans that had come before them.

Of course, with actual scrutiny on the place, it unravels rather quickly. Shouta will always say it: he hated when stupid villains tried to be clever. It was dangerous in ways worse than stupid villains being stupid and clever villains being clever.

However, where was the money going? Was it going to MLA splinter cells? And what were the villains for, outside of being cheap labor as laid low for their crimes? All of them were, thankfully, non-violent offenders. They were thieves, mostly. Fujiwara, a thief himself, must feel better about screwing over his own kind of criminal. Or maybe even the idiot knew that having potential murderers around teenagers was just asking for trouble.

But Shouta found, at least, six current staff in Aldera Junior High were criminals lying low. Though it was odd, he thinks, that Yama the janitor was fond of Midoriya when all the other staff seemed indifferent or subtly encouraging the kids in their bullying for the most part.

The quirk used on Shouta would keep him fourteen for two full months and one week at this point. It was plenty of time to dig a bit deeper and keep an eye on Midoriya. The Meta Liberation Army literature concerned Shouta a great deal.

And…

Someone knocks at his door.

Shouta doesn’t startle easily, but he was so lost in his own thoughts that he jumps, a little bit, at the sudden sound. He’ll be blaming that on his current teenage hormones.

He’s about to reach for the small knife he keeps close by when he hears a familiar voice, “A-Aikkun? Are you there?”

Midoriya’s just stopping by, good. Shouta hides the knife in a special holster up his sleeve.

He confirms that the boy is alone in the hallway before opening the door.

“Everything alright, Midoriya?” he asks because the green-haired teen looks a bit poleaxed.

“Um…I-I’ll get back to you on that A-Aikkun. May I come in?”

Shouta steps aside, raising an eyebrow as Midoriya toes off his shoes and slips into the guest slippers. Did he go out? Usually, he asks Shouta to come with him for company. Like the boy wanted to enjoy as much as Shouta’s presence as much as he could, still scared that Shouta would “wise up” and ditch him.

“Um,” Midoriya has a small paper bag in his hand. “I noticed that you were worried? Well maybe not worried. It could just be insomnia, but you seemed worried to me. And I didn’t want to call you out or anything, b-but I didn’t want you to think you were alone in this. Because you’re not! If you want to talk, then I’m here if you do. But i-if you don’t want to talk, then that’s fine too. So I thought I’d get you a gift because it seemed like a good idea? And I just…I wanted to help you feel better, but I wasn’t sure how to help. So um I bought you some tea?”

“You bought me tea.”

Midoriya nods, face bright red in embarrassment. Shouta forges ahead either way.

“And you bought me tea because I was worried and/or had insomnia, but you didn’t want to make me talk about it? Is that the thought process?”

Green curls bob again in a nod.

Shouta is unexpectedly touched by the gesture and at the kindness in the heart of this kid.

He takes the offered package.

“Thanks, Midoriya,” he says, voice almost gentle. “That’s really nice of you to do. I’m alright. I’ve just been having one of those…bad weeks. Emotionally.”

It’s not a full-on lie. Shouta has been having a bad few days emotionally since he’s seen those files in the principal’s office in Aldera.

He hates having to lie to the kid, but he also has to lie to the kid. It keeps him safe. He’s really fourteen, and Shouta will not be dragging teenagers into this mess. All he can do is be there for Midoriya.

But Midoriya wants to be there for Shouta as well. Be there in a way that he only lets very few people really be there for him. He can count them on both hands and still have fingers left over.

“Those are the worst,” Midoriya agrees, matching Shouta’s gentle tone. “I just wanted to drop off the tea. Do you want me to stay for a little bit? Mom knows I’m here, so I can stay a bit. Or I can go home and let you be. You wouldn’t even be hurting my feelings! I promise. Sometimes we just need to be alone and deal that way.”

He hates that kid probably has had that sort of wisdom beaten into him by how unfair the world is. That Midoriya has had to consider peace and how to reach out to people only to be slapped back time and time again.

“I wouldn’t mind company for a little bit,” Shouta says. “Present Mic’s radio show is coming on soon. Do you want to listen to it with me?”

Shouta misses Hizashi so damn bad. The only connection with his husband that he allows himself is listening to Put Your Hands’ Up Radio because it’s a popular program. It’s not uncommon for people of all ages to listen to it. Even if it’s filtered through his hero persona, Shouta just desperately wants to hear his husband’s voice.

He misses him. And maybe he doesn’t want to be alone right now.

“Yeah!” Midoriya says. “I’d really like that. Have you eaten, Aikkun? Mom still has some leftovers from dinner. I can run back home and get you some.”

Maybe Shouta just misses his own home with his husband and his cat. Or maybe it’s those damn fourteen-year-old emotions that he has been stamping down to do his work. Or maybe it’s remembering when he was this age and wishing that someone who wasn’t related to him cared enough to worry.

“That…that sounds really nice, Midoriya. Thank you.”

“Y-You can call me Izuku, if you want,” the green-haired boy offers. “I’ll keep with Aikkun. I like the nickname if it really doesn’t bother you.”

“It doesn’t,” Shouta assures. He’s been called worse and he likes it better than Shochan. “Thanks, Izuku.”

Midoriya’s smile beams like the sun.

Chapter Text

Bakugou Katsuki isn’t a bully.

He is a hero or, well, a future hero anyway. He is gonna be the Number One, surpass All Might himself. Ever since his quirk came in, everyone around him had praised how strong it was, how perfect it is for heroics. How perfect he is for heroics. Bullies cannot be heroes, ergo Katsuki isn’t a bully.

Sure, his Old Man would say stuff about respect and dignity, treating others how he’d want to be treated. The Hag would chime in about protecting those who weaker than him, that he could be loud but make sure to be kind as well. Auntie Inko would say that heroes needed to be strong, but not just in terms of how strong his quirk was. She would talk about strength of character. Uncle Hisashi, when he was alive, would say that kindness and empathy, more than anything else, were what made people into heroes.

But that’s the thing, it was three (formerly four) adults telling him one thing. While the world was telling him something else. Society says that strong quirks are the best quirks. It’s what gets you noticed. It’s what gets you seen, especially for pro heroes. So what if All Might destroys a warehouse? So what if Endeavor sets fire to a bus? So what if that new guy, Hawks, accidentally sliced through a couple of powerlines? They’re heroes and collateral damage is to be expected. Sometimes, collateral damage also means those not prepared for the realities of heroism would die.

He wasn’t a bully. He was just reminding Deku of his place. That there was no way he could protect himself in heroics. That he was weak. That he couldn’t be helped because he couldn’t help himself. That’s what school taught him. The elementary school teachers would ensure they didn’t use their quirks on him in school. They’d tut over how delicate Deku was.

When Deku didn’t realize how delicate he was, Katsuki reminded him. It’s what most of the adults in his life said. Deku didn’t have a quirk ergo he couldn’t be a hero. He’d get himself maimed or killed. He’d wilt immediately. And if the adults couldn’t remind the other boy of it, then Katsuki did after school. Because in elementary school poor quirk control meant that they were babies, no one wanted to be a baby.

Junior high was different, he supposed. It was looser in a way that he wasn’t expecting at first, but appreciated. How could his quirk get stronger if he couldn’t use it? How could he head to UA, the best of the best, if he wasn’t prepared to show his strength? It made sense, even with all the extras thinking that they could use their shitty quirks to get into hero school as well.

So, yeah, it made sense that they could use their quirks in class. And yeah, okay, sometimes the extras may have gotten a bit too overzealous about putting Deku in his place. But the nerd just wasn’t learning the lesson that the world was trying to teach him. Not like a stupid lesson in school where you solve for x or whatever, but a real one. One where the damn nerd learns that there’s no place for weakness in heroics.

And Katsuki was living that philosophy. It needed to be taught. It was drilled in again and again at school. Yeah, the Hag, the Old Man, and Auntie Inko had other lessons that they tried to teach, but how can focus on the quiet when everyone around you was so damn loud?

However…

Lately, in the past couple of weeks, since Eyebags showed up in his class, he wasn’t sure anymore. Eyebags quirk wasn’t flashy, but Katsuki wasn’t stupid. He could see the potential in it for a hero. There were those underground fuckers that he heard Deku mutter about. Katsuki never cared much about underground heroics: his quirk and himself were made for the Limelight. He never considered anything else, but those anonymous heroes were just vigilantes with a license or whatever.

But they had a license. They were pros. Maybe sneaky pros, the sort of pros that Katsuki did not want to be, but they were pro heroes. And people were so used to their quirk just being there, right there ready to be called, that the shock of losing it would give a split-second advantage to get the upper hand in combat. At least, he knew that intellectually. It felt like a cheat to him, to be honest.  

But since that fucker came into his life, Katsuki’s world felt upside down. Because, for the first time, someone who wasn’t Deku or his family was telling him “no”.  He keeps insinuating that Katsuki isn’t fucking brave. That he is a bully and a coward, which is ridiculous. Right? He’s neither of those things because he’s meant to be a hero.

Right?

That’s everything he wanted for his whole life. Since Katsuki could even remember all he’s wanted to be was a hero. All he’s wanted to be was the best hero. Maybe the shape of that dream changed (originally there was someone right next to him), but it always stayed the same. Bakugou Katsuki was going to be the Number One hero, become even greater than All Might himself.

But…

Deku flinched from him. Deku didn’t know how to handle a normal conversation with him. And yeah, he beat the nerd down, but that was for him to know his place in the world. The place that literally every other person said since they were four. He could get killed in Heroics, and Auntie would be all alone. More importantly, he was fragile that’s what everyone said. School said it, internet said it, TV said it.

Everyone said it. And their voices were louder than even the Hag’s voice.

And yet…

He tries some of those videos that the Hag watches to help her deal with her temper. She’s been doing it for years with therapy and what the fuck ever. Said she wanted to be a better example for him on how to get a handle on his strong emotions and passionate blood. So he tries the breathing and the cognitive questioning and whatever else those shitty videos say. He has a talk with Deku, wanting to prove it to himself, that he wasn’t those things that Eyebags said he was.

That he wasn’t a bully. That those black eyes staring through him, they were wrong. He wanted to prove that to Eyebags.

And…

Deku flinched from him. How long has he been doing that?

And suddenly, he just feels…

He doesn’t know what he fucking feels like. He just knows that Deku flinching from his like that? It didn’t feel good.

It didn’t feel heroic.

Fuck.

Shouta knew, of course, it was a matter of time before someone tried something with Izuku again. They tried messing with his desk once since Shouta has transferred in, but he handled it even worth the extra recon of Fujiwara’s office. But the little brats hadn’t tried anything since then.

His quirk scared them, which gave the kid blessed time to have some confidence instilled in himself. However, teenagers are, well, stupid isn’t the correct word. Impulsive? Impulsive is a good word for what Shouta’s thinking. Well, that and stupid. He taught high schoolers. High schoolers were stupid. Middle schoolers were stupider and meaner.

Shouta liked precisely three middle schoolers at present: Tenya who was a good boy and gave him no gray hairs, Shinsou because god he remembered being that kid, and Izuku because of well…this whole assignment.

Teenagers, from being a teacher, need to have a lesson ground in again and again. Yes, fear is a strong motivator. Shouta uses it like a precision blade, but there are other ways to make it stick. Unfortunately, given the general atmosphere of Aldera and those damn teenage emotions in Shouta himself, it looks like fear and anger it is.

The service staff, Shouta’s noticed, treats Izuku kindly. Mainly because Izuku treats them kindly in turn. Not a lot of people are nice to the janitors or the cafeteria workers or the garbage men. But they’re vital for keeping things running smoothly. It pays to be nice to them, especially in Underground Heroics.

Also, of course, they’re human beings and people should always just be fucking nice to each other. Not that most people care about that, of course. It’s something Shouta practices. There’s nothing logical in being rude to people who are just doing their jobs.

As a result, Izuku has adults on the staff who try their best to keep an eye out for him. It eases something in Shouta at that. At the very least between his mother and the service staff at school, Izuku’s not starting with zero faith in adults.

“Hey kid,” Yama says on Monday morning. “You may want to stop by the custodian closet. Sorry, but I didn’t get in early enough to get it handled for you. Wada’s out sick today.”

“Oh…” Izuku looks sad and disappointed. He manages a smile for Yama, “It’s not your fault, Yama-san. I don’t want you or Wada-san to get in trouble anyway. I’ll clean it up. Thank you very much for letting me know. Is it bad?”

“No floral arrangement,” the man promises, oddly gentle. For a potential former villain, Shouta can read genuine regret on Yama’s face. “Just marker.”

Izuku’s shoulders drop a bit more in relief, “I’ll get it cleaned up. Aikkun, you can head to class.”

“We’re going the same way,” Shouta says. “Let me help you.”

“Oh! But you already helped me once!”

“You’re my friend. I can help you as many times as I like.”

A ghost of a smile flashes on freckled cheeks, but Izuku doesn’t argue against Shouta's help. He’ll take the win, even if his stomach sours at the thought of the id having to clean his own defaced desk.

Izuku is practiced at this in a way that has anger clawing through Shouta as a former bullied kid and an educator. He fills up the bucket with water from the sink in the janitor’s closet. He pours in a bit of cleaner in the water and gets a sponge. Shouta carries the rags that Midoriya directs him to.

“What did he mean by floral arrangement?” he asks quietly. He has a feeling, a horrible and terrible feeling. But he needs to get it confirmed.

“It doesn’t happen often,” Izuku says after a long moment. He looks so terribly sad. “Less than a handful of times since I started at Aldera. But sometimes kids think it would be funny to leave red spider lilies on my desk.”

Ah.

Shouta shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. His quirk wants to activate and activate in a way that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hair down even with his conscious effort. He breathes in for seven and out for four and then does it again.

“I see,” he says softly. “Did everyone participate?”

“Hm? Oh no. It was a group of third years last year. Mikuchan, he’s my quirkless friend, got them a lot. But after he had to leave, they did it to me a few times. Everyone knows who I am here. No one has picked up that tradition yet this year, thankfully.”

Ah.

Akatani needs to go into therapy. He desperately hopes that the kid is in therapy, but it nevers hearts to double check. He’ll have Nedzu make sure that Akatani is in therapy and maybe see Hound Dog for good measure. Midoriya needs therapy as well. Fuck, Shouta’s definitely seeing his therapist weekly for at least a month or two once this assignment has ended.

Shouta hates Aldera.

“I see.”

Izuku looks over his shoulder at Shouta, “It’s okay, Aikkun.”

No, kid, Shouta wants to say. It really isn’t.

But he’s fourteen right now in body. All he feels right now is that powerlessness he felt at that age, that sharp bite of helplessness. He’s Aizawa Shouta, the pro hero Eraserhead and he’s also Aikawa Shohei, a fourteen-year-old kid. He misses being twenty-eight more than ever, misses having the power of adulthood behind him. Maybe, he could protect Izuku better then.

All he can do right is just support him.

All he can do is be there for Izuku.

Right now, it seems like it’s enough. But there will be a day that it won’t be enough, and Shouta’s desperate to make sure that doesn’t happen.

With Aikkun helping—even if Izuku can feel the rage boiling inside of his friend at the insults on his desk—the clean-up doesn’t take that long. This is the reason that Izuku likes to get to school early, and it really hasn’t been that bad this year since his new friend came into his life.

So that’s nice.

Okay, it’s not nice. But Izuku is trying to be optimistic here. He can hear some snickering in the corner as he and Aikkun clean off the marker insults from his desk. He sees Aikkun’s fingers tighten around the rag, knuckles nearly white, and how he keeps his eyes closed. Ah, so his quirk is tied into emotion on some level? How fascinating, some quirks tend to have a clearer emotional tie than others.

Izuku had theorized that Aikkun’s quirk could activate in emotional situations, of course, but this feels like confirmation. It hurts his heart to see his friend all worked up like this, over Izuku. He’s, okay, he’s not fine. But things have been better lately. He has Aikkun and Shinsou-kun and his Mom and the memory of his Dad. And it’s…okay. It’s better than it has been in years.

Izuku’s never been good about handling people worried about him. It’s leftover from elementary school when all of his teachers went on about how “delicate” he was. Like he would shatter if he tripped and fell. And then Aldera was a complete 180 from what he went through in elementary school, where people wanted him to be dust under their boot heel. Now that someone was standing up for Izuku…

It's better.

Sometimes, it’s just one person that can make things better.

Aikkun reminds Izuku why he wants to be a hero.

Shouta keeps a close eye on Izuku for the rest of the day, but the kid genuinely doesn’t seem upset over the morning. The admission of the red spider lilies still roils in Shouta’s gut. Maybe Akatani remembers those kids who tormented him. At the very least, names will help in an investigation into those little delinquents.

Bakugou has been more subdued as of late. Ever since Shouta’s little confrontation with him, the kid has been avoiding Izuku. Or if not avoiding, then very loudly ignoring him. Part of Shouta knows that the kid’s attitude isn’t solely on him. He’s in a huge shitshow of a school that wants him to actively believe that his quirk makes him better than others. And he’s been probably hearing it all his life.

Shouta’s had enough therapy to know that psychologically fucks a person up, especially a teenager. He remembers people swinging between calling his quirk villainous or weak, and the hits that his self-confidence took as a result.

How it led to Oboro’s…

Even so, the odd reaction Bakugou had when he came into the room that morning threw Shouta off a bit. The blonde narrowed his eyes as Izuku wiped up the last of the dirty water from his desk. He flexed his hands slightly and looked toward the group of giggling kids. Shouta had to help Izuku return the janitorial supplies, but he noticed Bakugou stalking over the group.

When they returned, those kids were very much not giggling. Bakugou was at his and scowlingly looking out the window.

How odd, but in a good way.

Maybe the kid isn’t the total write-off that Shouta believed him to be.

Sometimes, sometimes, it really does take one person to change someone’s perspective.

Chapter Text

“Fujiwara definitely doesn’t keep any bank books in his office,” Shouta assures Nedzu on their latest check-in call. He’s been undercover for a month and is not thrilled about getting up at four am. He’s sitting on his countertop, internally despairing over how short he is as his legs swing back and forth. “Does his address match the one on file?”

He can picture the principal in his office, security measures in place, sipping the cup of jasmine tea in that pretty antique tea set that Shouta got him when he was promoted. Nedzu only broke it out during his personal assignments and late at night. Students could be clumsy, after all, and Nedzu hoards his people and the few truly meaningful presents bestowed upon him.

“It does,” the chimera agrees. “He also has a second location. Apparently, his parents left him a bit of property when they died. I’ll send both of the location pins to your burner phone.”

Goodie, more breaking and entering in Shouta’s future then.

“I’ll need a bit more sophisticated gear then.”

“I’ll make sure to drop what you’ll need off at our new dead drop location,” Nedzu promises. “And how is Midoriya-kun?”

“He’s a good kid. I want him for the hero course when the time comes. He has…potential.”

“A ringing endorsement indeed! It’s been years since someone came in on a personal staff recommendation.”

Despite what the general public believes, there are three ways to become a first-year UA Heroics Course student straight off the bat. There’s the general exam which was the bane of teenage Shouta’s existence: robots. There’s the recommendation exam where pro-heroes or those in the heroics industry can recommend a student for a spot with a more specialized test. Finally, there’s the rarely used personal staff recommendation.

It's pretty much what it sounds like on the tin. A personalized recommendation of a student’s potential from a member of staff, those who train future heroes daily, holds a lot of weight. Basically, it means “take this kid or I’m getting an apprentice and thus will have to cut down my teaching hours”. Staff changes are rare at UA as it’s hard to find pro heroes and teachers up to the exacting caliber of the school. Or, well, it's hard to find pro heroes who will put in the work to get teaching credentials. They don’t just let anyone walk in off the street after all who never, ever taught before or didn’t have the required license.

Needless to say, those heroes who do have all the necessary certifications and courses completed along with being pro heroes are gold amongst the heroics academies. Those who are active heroes and teachers tend to get a spot at one of the higher-ranking schools.

If those don’t work, then there is, of course, the Sports Festival and other opportunities to get into the Hero Course. Shouta went the Sports Festival route and made sure to win the damn thing on top of it. Hizashi said that he always loved Shouta’s sense of drama, and that win was nothing but the purest and pettiest form of drama that he could muster.

“Well, it will be another year or so, but I want him in my class.”

“You’ve imprinted, Aizawa,” Nedzu sounds amused, but he doesn’t linger on the emotion too long. “I’ve talked with Akatani-kun about what you shared the last time we talked about the students in his year who left the flowers on his desk. Rest assured, I’m handling those students. None of them came to UA, but one got into the Support Department of Shiketsu.”

Not for long, Shouta thinks. Good. Suicide baiters get exactly whatever sort of justice Nedzu inflicts on them. Maybe if they’re lucky they’re the same little bastards who pushed Akatani down the stairs.

“Good.”

“How are we on the timeline?” his boss asks. “Do you think I’ll need to arrange another meeting with Watanabe-san?”

“As it’s progressing now, I shouldn’t need a reapplication of the quirk. From what I’ve found in Fujiwara’s office and what I overheard by sneaking around while being excused from lessons to go to the bathroom, it doesn’t seem to be a big operation. Just one that’s hurting a bunch of kids in the long term and putting poisonous ideas in their heads.”

“Troubling either way. Just make sure to keep your head on a swivel.”

“Of course,” Shouta agrees. He checks himself for bugs when he returns home every day and does a weekly sweep of the apartment. “How’s Hizashi?”

“Missing you terribly, but doing well as can be expected. Kayama and Iida have been checking in with him while you’re on assignment.”

Good. Shouta hates not being able to talk with his husband.

“Tell him that I’m listening to his show.”

He knows it wouldn’t do much for Hizashi’s worry, but the knowledge that Shouta is listening to his show will help somewhat.

Or so Shouta hopes so anyway.

“I’ll pass on the message. We’ll speak again next Thursday.”

“What I don’t get,” Shinsou-kun says on their Discord server. “Is why Eraserhead just up and disappeared like that.”

Izuku is glad that it’s a voice call. Shinsou-kun is so nice! And pretty. He’s got those really nice eyes and a smile. And, no, let’s not go there. But his gazing won’t be as apparent on a voice call.

Not that Shinsou-kun doesn’t have a nice voice! He does. Mental quirks that tend to blend with vocal quirks lead their users to have nice listening to voices. It’s a really interesting sort of side effect of the two! And he needs to answer his friend’s question about the underground hero.

“It’s only been a month since he was last seen on patrol,” Izuku says, patting his cool hands to his cheeks to calm down his blush. “He could be undercover or something. Underground heroes or those who specialize in intelligence gathering tend to go undercover more than most other heroes. Or that’s what I heard anyway! It’s actually some interesting specialized training that apparently goes into it. And, as far as the chatter on the forums, no one has put out a Missing Hero alert or whatever the Underground equivalent is. They’re cagey about that, but I suppose that makes sense.”

Shinsou huffs out a laugh, but it’s not a mean laugh. It’s a laugh that makes Izuku’s stomach feel full of butterflies but in a nice way! Not like in the "my anxiety is about to make me puke" sort of way.

“It’s really cool that you know all this stuff, Mido.”

Izuku blushes at the nickname that Shinsou-kun insisted on giving him. He wants Izuku to give him a nickname too, like he did with Aikkun. But he’s not really sure what a good one would be for his new friend? And he was so smart as well! Shinsou went to Somei. Sure, his dad is the Head of the Musutafu Hospital Heroic’s Ward and that definitely gets you an in at the school. But he did well too! So, he’s really smart.

And nice.

And pretty.

And likes cats.

And likes playing video games with Izuku.

And texting him during the day! Izuku doesn’t check his phone because that’s just an easy way for him to get in trouble, even though the other teachers don’t care when a quirked student does it. But he’s grown used to having different exceptions for the worse for every rule in the book.

“I’m not sure cool is the right word,” Izuku demurs instead.

Shinsou chuckles over the call and Izuku feels his cheeks burn in a blush.

“It definitely is. Or I can say spectacular if you’d like.”

Izuku would like that. Thirteen almost fourteen was a perfectly acceptable age for puppy love, right? He’s had crushes, but like…celebrity crushes. Safe crushes. No chance of rejection or mean pranks or anything like that. No chance of meeting that person in person for the life of him. Just sort of noticing that person is well put together in an abstract way and liking their personality in interviews.

Shinsou-kun was the first crush he’s had on someone in real actual life. And there’s a kinship because his new friend was bullied over people not liking his quirk. Which always leaves Izuku with a different sort of churning in his stomach, like an angry storm. Because he never gets why people are so hung up on details like that! If someone wants to do good with their quirk, then that makes it a quirk of a hero. Putting them in a box and saying otherwise is patently unfair!

Shinsou said that the bullying was virtually gone when his Dad transferred him into Somei right at the beginning of the school year. But that didn’t mean that Shinsou wasn’t dealing with the effects of elementary school and his first year of middle school.

Izuku instead blushes, “You don’t need to say spectacular either, Shinsou-kun.”

“Well, I need to say something. Ah dammit!”

“The Minotaur and Theseus again?”

Shinsou-kun had found a bunch of pre-quirk video games for download and he was playing one called Hades. The third boss fight was apparently giving him a lot of trouble.

“It’s going to take me forever to get past these bozos,” Shinsou mutters over their call. “It’s like my sixtieth run!”

Izuku giggles softly.

“Bozos?”

“I’m trying out different insults I’ve found. My quirk is usually response-based, but I was thinking about some of your suggestions. Maybe provoking could work as well?”

Izuku face is even redder he thinks at that. He probably looks like a tomato or a strawberry or something equally red with a green top. He looks like a bottle of Siracha. And the focus on his blush keeps his attention away from that lump in his throat. The fact that Shinsou would take his thoughts into account like that, like they matter. Like he thinks that he, Midoriya Izuku, matters. It’s a heady thing. It makes Izuku’s chest feel warm, like a fire in his heart.

With his mom, with his dad when he was alive, with Mikuchan, with Auntie and Uncle, with Aikkun…

Now with Shinsou-kun.

He’s so blessed to have people who look at him and see a person. He’s so blessed by how cared for he is by his small pocket of people, even if the world wants to beat him down in the worst possible way. Izuku holds those blessings close to keep that inner fire burning.

“H-Have you tried them yet?” he asks instead, basking in listening to his new friend and crush discuss what he’s tried with the theories on his consenting parents.

His life really is becoming better. Day by day, ever since Aikkun came into his life, it feels like he’s seeing brighter skies in his future.

One where he can shine brightly as a hero.

“A day out?” Shouta asks Izuku. It was Sunday, so they had school off. And, even though Shouta didn’t care about his Aldera grades, he did care about making sure that Izuku was passing. They usually study on Sunday. But there were no tests for the coming week.

“I-It’s warm out today,” the teen enthuses. He has a bright sweet smile on his face. “Mom had the night shift in the ER for the past few nights. And I wanted her to have quiet in the apartment.”

Over the past month of knowing Izuku, Shouta has been relieved to learn that Midoriya Inko held up to her first impression. She’s just a single mother with a deceased husband (Shouta saw a little corner with incense and a photo of a man that had Izuku’s curls and freckles) trying her best. She clearly loves Izuku and has welcomed Shouta into her home. She brings extra portions of homecooked meals and checks in on him when she can or she sends them over with Izuku.

He thinks Izuku remaining at Aldera is due to a lack of options in her situation versus a lack of care for his safety.

So, honestly, that’s a relief. It allows him to focus his attention where he truly needs it: the Aldera case and keeping Izuku safe at school.

Still, Shouta, who is fundamentally night shift as an underground hero, feels for the woman. She definitely needs some sleep after having several night shifts in a row.

And it is a nice day out.

“Is Shinsou joining us?”

Because if he has to watch awkward middle school flirting, then Shouta is not going.

“He had plans with his parents, unfortunately,” Izuku cannot hide the blush. “N-Not that I don’t want to hang out with just you, Aikkun! You’re m-my friend and…”

“He’s your crush. It’s fine. And getting some fresh air sounds okay.”

“Am I that obvious?” Izuku groans as Shouta digs out a pair of sunglasses and his eye drops. A warm day sounds nice, but the sun fucks with his dry eye so best be prepared. He merely just turns to Izuku and smirks, making the boy blush a deeper shade of red and hide his face behind his hands.

So’s Shinsou, Shouta doesn’t say, not wanting to embarrass the kid who wasn’t here to defend himself. Ah, puppy love. Shouta wouldn’t know it, but it’s mildly amusing to watch play out from the sidelines. When it also wasn’t the most awkward thing in the world.

He may have perfected his poker face, but Shouta definitely could still feel secondhand embarrassment. There were reasons he outright avoided certain TV shows.

“I think I see it better because we’re friends, Izuku,” he reassures the green-haired teenager. And the gambit pays off because Izuku relaxes at those words, peeking through his fingers.

“I’m so b-bad at this stuff,” he groans. “Crushes on celebrities are safer. I mean not going all parasocial weirdness on them, b-but no rejection. You know?”

“Makes sense,” Shouta agrees. “My dad didn’t date until after high school. Focused on other things.”

Okay, he’s lying a little bit. His dad was dating his mom and his Uncle Haruto in high school. Shouta waited until after he had his shiny new pro hero license, an edgy “go at it alone phase”, and a fuckton of therapy. Even then, he had to be told he and Hizashi were dating.

(“It’s a good thing I think you’re cute,” Hizashi huffed, once the dust settled.

“I love you,” Shouta said instead. And then blurted out, “Let’s get married.”) 

Izuku will never learn of that, even when Shouta is at his proper age. Ever. God, he misses Hizashi like a limb.

“M-Maybe. But it’s nice. Having a crush on someone. Shinsou-kun is so cool. And anyway! I was thinking we could hang out a bit. I wanted to go to the bookstore. There’s this new book that I want to pick up about different pro heroines from all over the world! And I was thinking maybe we could go see a movie or something else?”

That sounds like a nice day, actually. There’s a new volume out for a fantasy manga that Shouta enjoys. Maybe they can go to the café with the good sandwiches nearby as well.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That sounds pretty good.”

The thing about Izuku is that he wants to help.

Maybe that’s the heroic spirit within him. Hopefully! Heroes should want to help other people, right? He’s not naïve enough to think that’s what everyone in the heroics industry wants to do. There are plenty of heroes who are in it for the vanity, like Uwabami, or for pride, like Endeavor. But Izuku thinks the very best heroes, in their hearts, want to help others.

And it doesn’t have to be in saving the city sort of ways. Sometimes, all people need is a helping hand in a stressful moment. That someone sees them and is paying attention to their own struggles outside of themselves.

This is why when Izuku sees a black hair boy’s bag break, sending all of the contents spilling out, he peels off from Aikkun to help him.

“Here! Let me help you,” he says cheerfully. The boy looks up at him a bit shy with red eyes and oh! His teeth are so sharp! How interesting! Maybe part of his quirk or just a normal mutation that was passed on genetically?

“Oh! Thanks, man,” the other boy says with a self-deprecating grin. Izuku can see Aikkun coming over as he helps get everything picked up. “I accidentally sliced it the other day with my quirk, and I thought I got it stitched up alright. But I guess I didn’t, huh?”

“Quirk accidents happen! And it’s really cool that you know how to sew. It’s a pretty useful skill to have.”

Izuku finishes picking up everything and putting it in the other boy’s hands. And he pauses at the pin on the ruined bag.

“Oh! Crimson Riot! He’s the coolest.”

The other boy beams beautifully at Izuku, showing his mouth of sharp teeth in an excited grin, “He’s the best! I’d love to be half the hero that he was. I have a hardening quirk too, and it’s just really inspirational? You know?”

“Definitely!” Izuku agrees. “And a hardening quirk is super versatile in heroics. I’ll be rooting for you!”

The other boy flushes and opens his mouth to say something. When he spies someone in the distance, a pink girl with cute yellow horns, waving at him.

“That’s my friend. I have to go. But it was really nice to meet you.”

“You too!”

He waves to the other boy, who rushes over to the girl. They seem nice, but he has his own plans for the day to focus on.

Izuku turns to Aikkun, who shakes his head.

“What?”

“You’re going to be the death of me, Izuku,” his friend says. “C’mon. I want coffee.”

“Aikkun? What did you mean by being the death of you?” His friend is shaking his head like he doesn’t want to dive into this topic. Izuku runs after him, “Aikkun! Hey wait!”

Chapter Text

Shouta doesn’t mind surveillance duties, all things considered. It was lucky that he was just as sleep-deprived when he was fourteen as he was at twenty-eight. Insomnia was a bitch to battle with. The only cure Shouta had found? Pro heroics. It knocks you right the fuck out when you need to sleep.

The cameras inside Fujiwara’s apartment were put in by a disguised as an HVAC tech Majima and connects to the equipment that Shouta uses for observation. Normally, Shouta would have disguised himself to go in, but as he’s still fourteen, Nedzu went with the Support Course teacher. The second property that used to be owned by Fujiwara’s parents had a security system. So, the plan was for an alarm trigger and then another disguised UA teacher to go as a security guard. Probably Snipe, if Shouta’s guessing.

Shouta hums to himself thoughtfully as he clicks through the security feed. Fujiwara’s apartment is definitely out of what is supposed to be his means, which is unsurprising. A surplus of cash and people do dumb things like get a fancy apartment or a nice car. Where are the criminals who do sensible things with money like buy extremely good coffee and nice comfy beds? Honestly, the priorities of some people.

If you turn to a life of crime and villainy, then at least do something interesting with your ill-gotten gains. Don’t act like a man having a midlife crisis or something.

Fujiwara was training with an enhanced boxing bag. His strength enhancement quirk wasn’t really all that impressive as far as such things go. And Shouta could see some flaws in his technique: over-reliance on his strength rather than outright finesse to his form. No wonder he got kicked out of his heroics program. The utter douchebag was hoping just to coast by on his quirk alone.

It's that sort of overconfidence that gets heroes killed. More importantly, it gets people around them killed. Shouta’s relieved that someone wised up and kicked Fujiwara out. Or there could have been another reason, but Nedzu said the files had been hard to find.

Which meant they were on paper. Not being able to hack paper goes both ways for good and for bad.

And it also probably meant that either something happened on the internship or the HPSC was covering something up. It didn’t matter if the school was second-rate or not, they would still want to cover their own asses in the provisional license process. God, Shouta hates the HPSC with everything in him. He hates them and the political aspects of hero work. There should not be so much fucking politics in helping people. Yeah, sure, he was Nedzu’s student but political manipulations were not something he enjoyed.

A ringing from Fujiwara’s phone caught Shouta’s attention. He taps on the laptop to bring up the call log (grateful and skeeved out that the Hot Singles In Your Area trap got the spyware on the suspect’s phone). Restricted, ugh, Shouta still gets the trace up and running on it. Nedzu’s phone traces were much more accurate and tended to ignore such “restricted” calls.

“Hello?”

(Of course, Fujiwara was the type of person to have an earpiece in while he was working out. He looked like a finance bro at the gym. He could have tried, at least, not to put douchebag into every ounce of his personality and lifestyle.)

“We have another client for you, Fujiwara-san,” a smooth high-pitched voice coos on the other end. “If you are willing to take them on.”

“It’s starting to get a bit crowded at the school,” the man grunts. “I need to have actual teachers on staff. Otherwise, one of the brat’s parents will figure it out, even if it’s by accident. Not exactly genius IQs here.”  

“Giran-san can always find another person to have a cut of the hider’s fee,” the voice says lightly.

Fujiwara snorts, “Send me the details and I’ll figure out if it’s someone I can hide in my school.”

Shouta sends off the audio recording to Nedzu, immediately. He highly doubts that it is Giran who’s sending Fujiwara clients. The man is a criminal, but he’s a criminal that has some standards. More importantly, Giran is, at least, intelligent enough to have better-forged paperwork.

So, someone is running around using his name, which is definitely bad.

He taps his finger on the laptop in frustration. This is such a messy case. Not messy in an interesting way either, it’s messy in a way that screams of idiocy and haphazard care. Sure, stupid criminal make for quicker arrests and more mistakes. Shouta likes stupid criminals.

But c’mon, he thought some sort of giant secret underground villain hideaway would be at least semi-well thought out. Fujiwara is just disappointing him all over again, Shouta supposes.

Kacchan has been acting…weird since their talk.

Izuku doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Weird how?” Mikuchan asks over the video call on their phone. He has a smudge of grease on his cheek and is absentmindedly twirling a screwdriver in his hand. He’s so cool! And is doing so well at UA! Izuku is really proud of his friend. It’s nice that they’ve been finally able to actually talk instead of quick text messages.

“Quiet,” Izuku settles on. “Kacchan has been quiet.”

“Huh,” his friend pushes a stray curl from his face. “That is pretty weird actually. I didn’t think Bakugou knew how to do quiet.”

He could. Izuku has some hazy memories of childhood. Kacchan could be quiet, but only when Izuku would ask him to be. Before he was labeled quirkless, Kacchan would listen to him. Because hero duos had to listen to their partner. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be a good duo. The old ache flares a bit dully, a reminder of a friendship he’s never fully grieved.

“He did once,” Izuku shakes his head to clear the cobwebs of memories. “But I think he said something to class? Maybe? Everyone has been avoiding Kacchan, but they’ve also been avoiding me and Aikkun. So, I suppose that’s alright.”

“Better avoidance than their attention,” Mikuchan hums in agreement. He tilts his head at a schematic next to him. “You think a glide suit would be better for a levitation quirk than a parachute if they’re knocked out of the sky?”

“It depends on how high and fast they can fly,” he twirls in his chair, grinning into the camera. “But I think the glide suit would allow them time to recover their quirk without having the worry too much about the parachute getting wrecked in a fight.”

“Hmmm….”

The silence between them feels nice. It feels different than the ones that would happen at Aldera. Those silences were between people who were on edge, just waiting for something bad to happen. These silences feel softer somehow, like a balm of quiet after waiting so long for noise.

“Mikuchan,” Izuku pauses. “Is UA still good?”

He asks every so often since his friend was accepted into the Support Course. If UA is good for people like them because Izuku needs to know. He and his Mom had issues finding him a middle school, but they’re more optimistic about high school. Mikuchan often talks about how nice everyone is there. The staff found the most competent and kindest students just to surround him with that.

“Yeah,” his friend promises. He looks up from his work, eyes sincere through the phone screen. “UA is still good.”

Izuku still has plenty of middle school yet. UA still feels like such a distant and desperate dream, but it’s one he wants to live for. Because he knows, in his heart, that Aldera will turn again. Kids will stop being afraid of Aikkun and Kacchan. There will be flowers on his desk and horrible words written on it. He wants to believe the peace will last.

Izuku wants to believe that he’s earned a bit of gentleness. He doesn’t do kind things so that kindness can come back to him in turn. But, maybe, a small part of him just wants the world to be kind to him for once. Maybe he just wants things to go his way for once.

Is that so bad to wish? Is that so bad to hope? Izuku’s been brave for so long. He’s been kind even when the world spits on him. Is it so wrong to want the world to give a bit of comfort back? To make school not a chore to be dreaded, but a place where he likes to be?

And he wants to find a place like Mikuchan has, something safe and soft. Somewhere people will support him. Even if he has it now, Shinsou-kun’s kindness is soft and nice. Aikkun’s surprising gentleness and fierce protection make him feel secure. He wants it sooner. He wants a place where he can just be and where he can just be with people who’ll see Izuku for Izuku and not what he can’t do.

Maybe he’s greedy, but he thinks he’s allowed that sort of greed.

“You look tired, Aikkun,” Izuku states when they meet at the elevator. “Are you going to be alright for training after school?”

Shouta glances over at the gently fretting boy. He’s been diligent in keeping up with the training schedule that Shouta put him on. And there’s an improvement as well. His face has lost a bit of the stubborn baby fat and his lap time has improved. He sees the boy holding back in gym class now, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Not wanting the other kids to know of the new advantage that he possesses. It’s smart, even if it hurts Shouta viscerally that kid knows he has to hide it.

It's a good thing he’s expelled the majority of his homeroom for the year otherwise Shouta would have return to UA with sharp eyes out for any quirkism, even more so than usual. This time at Aldera will send him into weekly sessions with his therapist again. Barely being able to do what he’d like to do is really fucking with him. He likes having the power of authority, not in a mad-with-power way but because he just wants to keep kids safe.

“Insomnia,” Shouta says to the statement. “Be thankful you don’t have it.”

It’s a white lie, of course. He’s up late to run surveillance and look through whatever little backdoor he’s dug into Fujiwara’s computers. It’s dull but necessary work.

“And the tea hasn’t helped?”

His heart spasms at the reminder of the thoughtful gift Izuku handed over. Tea for a friend in need, who he wanted to help without forcing the issue. Shouta reflects that it sucks that he didn’t meet Izuku when he was really fourteen. Things could have been different for him, maybe in the best ways.

“It helps a little,” he assures because he’s trying to build Izuku’s confidence up when he can. “It tastes good at least.”

Green eyes narrow thoughtfully in his direction.

“Maybe you should stop drinking so much coffee. I think that stunts your growth too.”

Considering Shouta grows up to be over six feet tall, the argument is invalid.

Instead, he says, “I’ll think about cutting down on it.”

Izuku tilts his head to the side. His eyes narrow even further. It’s adorable, in a way a kitten is trying to learn how to pounce.

“Alright. Because I will tell Mom and then you’ll get a lecture.”

“Tattletale,” Shouta says, but it’s half-hearted. He nudges Izuku to make sure he knows that he’s not holding the threat against him.

“A mark of a true hero is always meddling in other people’s business,” comes the breezy response.

Shouta barks out a laugh as the elevator doors close.

Katsuki has been observing lately.

He knows it’s made him quiet. Quiet in a way that he rarely ever is. Quiet in a way that he rarely ever lets himself be. But, according to those fucking self-help books the hag has around the house, quiet is sometimes needed.

Katsuki only really let himself be quiet around one person. One person from when he was little, and the world drowned that out with the noise. When the fuck did he let validation from the extras drown it out? They were extras. He shouldn’t care about their praise or their scorn. So why?

He keeps thinking.

The other kids do not like Deku, Izuku. Eventually, he thought why should he? If everyone is saying something is bad, then it’s bad, right? If everyone says something is good, then it’s good, right? So why the fuck did what Eyebags say get under his skin like that? Why did Deku flinching away like that make his gut twist?

Why does he feel like something has snapped? It feels like a blindfold has been removed. Now, he’s just relaxed about how fucked everyone is being? Because Eyebags treats Deku…nicely. The two of them are together, thick as thieves all the damn time. And it really pisses Katsuki off in a way he doesn’t know.

Which is why he’s out, sitting in the old playground near his house. His Old Man let Katsuki go when he said he just needed some air. He knows that he’s worrying his parents and part of him hates that they know he’s weak right now. But the thoughts keep fumbling in his head and he just wishes things made sense to him.

“Bakugou?”

Katsuki snaps his head up to see Eyebags, holding a bag from the nearby konbini.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Nothing. But I just saw someone who looked like they needed help,” the dark-haired boy shrugs. “So, I came to see if they needed help.”

Katsuki grips the cold chains of the swing, hoping that the coolness of the metal will help his palms in not popping off. Eyebags wouldn’t hesitate to use his quirk on him, cut him off from his power. He hates how it feels, so empty. Is that how Deku feels all the time?

“I don’t fucking get you,” he grounds out instead.

People call Katsuki brash. The Hag is brash and full of pride. Katsuki knows he gets a lot of his stuff from her. He knows there is a reason why he never met his maternal grandparents, just as there’s a reason Deku never met his. Why Auntie Inko and the Hag still cling to each other tightly, even if Katsuki (is? was?) a bully to Deku. Not that he would dare do a thing in his Auntie’s presence.

“I see,” Eyebags sighs. He doesn’t act like any fourteen-year-old Katsuki has ever met. There’s something about the other boy that reminds him of someone older. “And why is that a ‘you’ problem?”

“Because things used to make sense! And then you showed up with your fucking quirk and started defending Deku. And then you called me a bully and Deku flinched around me. And you helped him with his desk! And I don’t fucking get it! Why it fucking bothers me now!”

Katsuki realizes that he stood up at some point during his rant. He hears a couple of sparkler-like pops from his hands, but Eyebags doesn’t do anything. He rocks back on his heels thoughtfully, squinting up at the moon as though it personally offended him.

“Right,” Eyebags huffs and plops down on a swing. “I thought I would get to avoid this kind of talk, but I’m continuously punished for my sins.”

“What the fuck kind of middle schooler are you?”

“A very exhausted one.”

Katsuki snorts at the blunt answer.

Eyebags tilts his head, “So it sounds like that I, somehow, caused you to realize something. And you’re having a hard time dealing with it.”

“You’re gonna make me say it out loud?”

“I’m a petty asshole enough to admit that, yes, I’m making you say your big emotional revelation out loud. With your words. And if you don’t know how to put your feelings into words, then consult an expert.”

“Who the fuck is an expert in that?”

“Therapy? Counseling?” Eyebags sighs. “Listen you want to be a hero, right?”

The sudden change in the topic makes Katsuki forget his anger over being told to go to therapy.

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s statistics. Every hero worth their salt should be in therapy. It’s a requirement for every good Underground Hero and Rescue Hero. Most Limelight heroes do as well. Japan hasn’t caught up to it yet, but it’s law in a good forty-five percent of countries that have heroes for them to go to therapy. And there are more laws looking to be passed. It’s not a bad thing. If you don’t know what to say or how to put what to say into words, then talk with someone who knows that stuff. Do you want to be All Might or do you want to be Endeavor?”

No one likes Endeavor. Okay, it’s maybe a hyperbole. He has to have some fans as the Number Two, but…

He’s stuck on the “but”.

Katsuki wants to be admired and beloved. He wants to be the next All Might, maybe even better than him.

“I’ve been a huge dick to Deku,” he mumbles. “Izuku. It’s just that everyone said he was worthless. And yeah my parents and his mom didn’t but they had to say that. And I just…”

“Society’s fucked,” the other boy agrees. “And it sucks when that safety falls off and you see how fucked it really is. You have a privilege that few get to enjoy.”

He doesn’t sound bitter just factual, like a teacher giving a lesson.  It’s weird, Katsuki thinks, but this kid has been weird for over a month.

“I’m a bully.”

“You’re a kid with the whole of society telling you that you’re great. And yeah you’re a bully, but fuck it. You admitted it. So, are you gonna change it, Bakugou Katsuki? Or are you just going to bury your head in the sand? What kind of hero do you want to be?”

Katsuki feels that torrent of anger swirl in his gut, crawling up his throat like a thousand tiny hot knives. Because who the fuck is this guy? Who the fuck is Aikawa Shohei with his stupid quirk and his old fucking soul or whatever? Who the fuck is he to challenge HIM?! 

He swallows it down, does that fucking grounding exercise he’s seen the Hag do.

“You don’t have to answer,” Eyebags says. “Not right now. Just think about it, Bakugou.”

And he has to know. Every kid wants to be a hero. This tired, dead-eyed kid has to as well, right?

“What kind of hero do you want to be?”

Black eyes consider him for a long, long moment.

“I want to be a hero who is there for someone in their worst possible moment and protects them all the same. No glory, no charts, no rankings…I just want to help. That’s all I ever wanted with my quirk.”

For a moment, he sees a little boy with round chubby cheeks and wide green eyes.

“I want to be a hero that saves everyone, Kacchan! But you’ll be my favorite hero, even above All Might!”

Katsuki watches Aikawa leave the park. He thinks it would have been kinder if Eyebags had slugged him.

Chapter Text

“Good,” Aikkun says, quietly pleased. “Take a water break, Izuku.”

Izuku flops back on the yoga mats that Aikkun had set up for them. His friend is really oddly knowledgeable in areas of physical fitness. If it wasn’t the hit to the reputation that Aikkun took by so clearly associating with Izuku, then he’d think his friend would be wanted by a lot of the athletics clubs at school.

“How are you so good at yoga, Aikkun?”

Izuku didn’t even know people could bend that way. But Aikkun at one point had his legs over by his ears while he was on his stomach. He looked like he could sleep like that. Meanwhile, Izuku’s struggling with the beginner yoga video on the TV.

“It’s relaxing,” his friend says, pressing a water bottle to Izuku’s face. He yelps at the sudden cold before grabbing the bottle. Izuku glares up at Aikkun with a pout, making his friend grin maniacally.

“You’re mean.”

“Illogical,” his friend waves off, though his crazed grin is still there. “I’m grumpy. There’s a difference. Besides hydration is important for working out. Actually, it’s a good rule of thumb for life. Stay hydrated.”

Aikkun went into a backbend and smirked, “Plus why is flexibility important for heroics, Izuku?”

Izuku pulls the water bottle away from his mouth, muttering, “Because if you fight quirkless and I’m just straight up quirkless, then we need an element of surprise. Most villains tend to rely on brute strength or their quirks, but flexibility and mobility will be key to it. Maybe long-range gear. Eraserhead is rumored to have something that helps with that, like a special scarf? Anyway, it makes sense to ensure muscle build-up is in tandem with flexibility. I wonder if learning dance will help?”

“Ballet,” Aikkun says absentmindedly. Izuku raises an eyebrow at his friend, who turns away with his cheeks pink. “But full marks.”

“Thanks, sensei,” Izuku rolls his eyes. He can imagine Aikkun as a teacher though. He’d probably be a lot better of a teacher than, well, anyone he had outside of his preschool one. She was very nice and didn’t treat him differently after his diagnosis, and he’s pretty sure she’s Miruko’s cousin.

“I don’t think you have the face for the disaffected teen vibe, Izuku.”

“Sorry, Ai-sensei,” he huffs, ignoring the choking sound his friend makes. “Alright. Let’s see if I can find a basics of ballet video.”

“You’re going to be sore as hell tomorrow.”

“Mom’s been buying Epsom salt in bulk since you moved in,” he says. “We both know I’ll be sore tomorrow.”

Aikkun cackles, but the sound warms Izuku’s heart.

Shouta really, really fucking wishes he could punch Fujiwara in the face. He knows, mercifully, that time is incoming. God, he can’t wait for that time to arrive. In about a month and a half when Shouta doesn’t need the fucking step stool to reach the high shelves.

Oh, he will never take for granted being able to reach the high shelves again.

The usual homeroom teacher is out (not a villain, just incompetent, Shouta hasn’t memorized his name) so Fujiwara, apparently, has left his office to watch over their homeroom for lack of any of teachers to cover at the last minute. Which is good for Shouta because he hasn’t seen him interact with students much. At least principals put in some face time in front of the students. Maybe Nedzu has spoiled him, he supposes.

Competent leadership is so hard to find.

Izuku clearly has been in Fujiwara’s presence before and the other boy clearly is…wary around him. Shouta wouldn’t say scared, but Izuku definitely keeps his eye on the principal. He’s suspected the man of embezzlement. According to Nedzu, he thinks the kid is onto something.

Shouta wonders what else his Problem Child of a friend suspects. Judging by how Midoriya is very carefully keeping his eyes on his book for self-study, it’s nothing good.

And judging by the way Fujiwara looks at Midoriya, Shouta is glad the kid has made a buffer. The look of disgust should not be so blatant on the face of an authority figure, granted this one is corrupt as all hell, but at least mask it with indifference.

Shouta looks down at his own assignments, but mentally goes over the case in his head. Snipe was able to go in as a security guard at Fujiwara’s parents’ old place. So, the cameras are up and running there, but nothing seems to be happening. Shouta is fairly certain it’s a bust or a safe space in case shit hits the fan. Because nothing has been happening there, no indications of any of the special modes Nedzu had installed as well in the small, discreet surveillance cameras.

It's frustrating, but Shouta is used to being frustrated and waiting. So, it’s not that big of a surprise, he’ll break into both properties as well. Snipe had a video of Fujiwara entering the code. Meanwhile, Shouta overheard some plans amongst the non-criminal members of the staff to go out for drinks. It seemed like Fujiwara would be joining them for the evening out, presumably to look like the “cool boss” or something.

Either way, it works out in Shouta’s favor.

Sure, there’s more breaking and entering in his future. Truly, the glitz and glamor of Underground Heroics knows no boundaries.

Things have been going well for Izuku lately, which is why his guard may have been a bit down. He has friends and feels…better. More confident. It’s weird. And the kids at school seem tired of punching him down.

Well, maybe tired isn’t the correct word.

Whether because no one wanted to feel the wrath of Aikkun’s quirk or, so he overheard two first years say, Kacchan spread it around that picking on Deku was boring now, he didn’t know. Everyone seemed to be ignoring him, which was, well, maybe not great but better. It was better. They were all just pretending that he had an invisibility quirk in a mean way.

(Except the nice girl on the train who went to the all-girls private junior high had an invisibility quirk in a nice way. Izuku chatted with her because Aikkun took him to do some parkour at a special gym and he had fallen asleep on Izuku’s shoulder on the way back. Her quirk was so fascinating as all light-based passive emitters are!

And she had such a cute little pin for The Shimmer Hero: Dazzle from Sweden on her jacket. So naturally, they had to chat. He did forget to get her name, which was a shame. But she wanted to be a hero too, so he thinks he’ll see her on the charts someday! Unless she went Underground.)

But Izuku never liked the way Fujiwara-sensei (emitter, strength enhancement but he had to be moving to build up power output) made him feel under his gaze. Like he was lower than dirt, less than a human, it was not an uncommon response, but also not overly common. People hid their bigotry beneath polite smiles and following you around a store. They hide it in immediately turning their noses up at you when they were fine a minute ago, before learning the truth.

Fujiwara-sensei wore that hate like a badge. One that he didn’t mind the world to see and to know. Because, really, who cares about Quirkless kid?

His mom does. Shinsou-kun does. Aikkun does. Mikuchan does. Auntie and Uncle do as well, even if he doesn’t see them often because Kacchan became a bit of a dick, even that seems to be changing. His dad cared before he died. His internet friends do.

People care about him. Izuku’s worth being cared about.

And it doesn’t bother Izuku, not like it once did. Because he’s pretty sure that Fujiwara-sensei is embezzling from Aldera, but he’s also pretty sure that his principal gave a job to the Hokkaido Thief. Nagosi-sensei is the thief, he thinks. Izuku had been researching in his spare time, and he’s almost certain of it. And he has suspicions about some of the other staff too.

Which means something is going on in Aldera Junior High. Izuku may not be a hero yet, but people don’t see the quirkless kid. Not really. So, he’s going to observe and keep quiet and find someone who can do something with this information. Because he doesn’t deserve to be treated badly. Mikuchan didn’t deserve to be hurt.

Aikkun helped show him that.

And even if his classmates are jerks, they don’t deserve to be taught by villains.

However, Izuku doesn’t even know how to begin to help.

“From what we’ve been able to gather,” Nedzu says pleasantly during the latest check-in. “Giran is not involved. One of his former subordinates is just using his name to get a foothold. Which is, as with many aspects about this case, not very smart.”

Oh, the relief there is utterly potent. He wasn’t sure what he could do with Giran’s involvement as a physical fourteen-year-old.

“That’s sure to end well,” Shouta sighs, reaching for a cup of coffee. The surveillance of Fujiwara’s apartment is ongoing, but the man has a safe. All sorts of interesting things in a safe. It’s been a while since he had to safe crack, but it’s like riding a bike.

“When we take down Fujiwara, Midnight and Cementoss will be raiding the fake Giran’s location as well.”

At the very least, it will get that idiot off the streets. No guarantees someone won’t get to them in prison. Giran had friends everywhere so to speak, and he wouldn’t take well to someone using his name so casually. Fake Giran, even with the protective custody, would probably not last long.

Still, it meant that the case was, while not easy, not as complicated as Shouta had feared there for a minute. A Giran aspect to the case while he looked all of fourteen would be tricky to handle. Tricky is a good word for that situation, yes.

A massive fucking migraine and a half for Shouta would be a better approximation to that situation. Which it isn’t. It’s just the same headache he’s been having. This whole case could be summed up as: Sometimes even idiots can be successful, but at what cost?

“Good,” he says instead. The sigh he puts in his voice is definitely enough to convey his feelings on that front.

“And how is Midoriya-kun? Akatani seems pleased with how well he’s been. He spoke with him recently and went over the conversation with me. Nothing was divulged, of course. But it’s a complicated situation.”  

“Midoriya’s doing well.”

The kid is honestly the one bright spot in Shouta’s day while doing this assignment. He’s going to get that kid into UA, into his homeroom, and show him all the merry ways he can cause chaos as the first quirkless pro hero. And maybe have him join Nedzu in his plans to gut the HPSC because that kid suspects something.

Shouta doesn’t know what, exactly, but Izuku always narrows his eyes thoughtfully whenever the Commission’s leadership comes on screen when watching TV.

And whatever the hell is going on with Bakugou’s journey of self-discovery and realizing his behavior is shit, well, Shouta won’t put him on the blacklist for UA. But the kid will tossed to Kan to deal with if Shouta has any say in the matter. He’s not sure if his head can handle the loudness.

Either way, Shouta is going to get his newly dubbed Problem Child into the hero course. He remembers earlier, watching Izuku try to do a stretch one of the dancers did, and how he wobbled and toppled over. How his laughter made Izuku turn sly and throw a pillow at Shouta’s head. And it devolved into a pillow fight.

And Shouta had fun.

He laughed in a way he didn’t think was capable of, after Oboro’s death.

Izuku has the same smile, that same brightness in his eyes.

Shouta promises himself this kid will survive.

“Are you alright, Aizawa?”

“Yes sir,” he says, apologetic in his tone. “Just thinking. I’ll be going to Fujiwara’s primary residence in two days. I’ll use dead drop epsilon for any evidence I find.”

“Epsilon should be fine for the location,” Nedzu agrees amiably. “I’ll speak to you in a week.”

Midoriya Inko is a worrier.

It’s something she has always been, even when she was a little girl. It’s something that won’t change. Even with her anxiety diagnosis and the medication, she’ll always worry. She just doesn’t spiral as she once did.

Postpartum anxiety was bad until Michan kicked down the door and dragged her to a doctor’s with Hisashi trailing after holding Izuku nervously telling her not to be so rough, please. But the help, well, helped.

She worries that Izuku hates her for still being close to Michan, especially since Katsuki has bullied him. She, Michan, and Masaru tried. They did, but they were three voices saying one thing while the world said something else. But her boy has the biggest heart and it hurts that he knows the difference between familial and societal influences. She blames that on Hisashi, may he rest in peace. Her husband answered all of Izuku’s questions, believing that kids deserve the truth.

“Youth doesn’t equate stupidity, Inko,” he said. “He deserves the answers to his questions.”

Inko worried. She worried when she started doing night shifts. She worried when would mend his own uniforms. She worried when he refused to talk, just saying he was clumsy at school. His grades did not match the sort of intelligence her son put in. She worried about that school, and how people treated him there. She worried.

It was like a python, wrapped around her heart and lungs. Because, unlike the other parts of her anxiety, things that could be soothed by the medication or things she can logically talk herself out of a spiral. Izuku was quirkless. Not in the way, most people said it, it was just a statement of fact. Her son had such a big heart and the world was so cruel. And she tried.

She tried. And worried it wouldn’t be enough. That she wasn’t enough. When he was alive, Hisashi was Izuku’s hero outside of All Might. She tried to talk with the principal, but he was just patronizing as can be, and nothing changed. Not even when poor Akatani-kun had his fall.

His parents told her to pull Izuku out of Aldera. But there were no other public schools nearby. The online schools she could find asked about quirks, like it even mattered. And the private schools were just so expensive. She made good money and Hisashi was an inventor, his patents still provided a good sum as well. But those tuitions went up when her son’s quirk status was revealed.

So Inko had no choice.

And worried if that made her a bad mother.

Then Aikawa Shohei appeared.

For the first time in years, Izuku had a friend. And that python grip around Inko’s heart lessened a bit. And every day, things seemed a bit…better for her son. Aikawa Shohei was nothing less than Inko’s own personal hero. If there was ever anything that wonderful, sweet boy needed, then she would do it.

And then Izuku made another friend. The python loosened even more. Inko hadn’t met Shinsou Hitoshi, but Shinsou Yuzuki (the head of the Heroic’s Ward himself!) had come to introduce himself to her after their children had become friends. And they became friends because Shinsou-kun’s quirk caused issues similar to Izuku’s quirklessness. And it was nice to have someone that had a similar experience.

And then Michan told her that Katsuki had been thoughtful in a way that he never really was before. That he had been researching and reading about quirkless people, watching her over her shoulder do her anger management exercises. That he asked about seeing a therapist, and the python loosened more.

Inko worries, but they have lessened to the point where she feels like she can breathe a bit deeper. They feel manageable now. Like something good will happen.

“Bye Mom!” Izuku calls from the door. “I’ll see you after school.”

“Bye Izuku! Have a nice day, Aikawa-kun,” Inko says. The tired-eyed boy nods politely as Izuku shuts the door.

Inko pulls her coffee close and takes a deep breath.

“I think he’ll be okay, Hisashi.”

For a moment, she closes her eyes and can almost imagine the soft smoke scent of his fire breath.

She allows herself to pretend that it’s not incense.

Chapter Text

The art to breaking and entering is one that thieves and heroes who do undercover work can appreciate, Shouta muses as he pulls on his gloves. Granted, there’s no artistry to Fujiwara’s security system. Much like his office at Aldera, the principal’s home is stupid trying to be clever which makes Shouta’s teeth ache.

As he wiggles through the window that Fujiwara forgot to close, he considers adding a lesson to proper stealth and burglary tactics to the third years' heroics curriculum. It’s around the time that they need to learn to be more flexible in their moral code. A lot of the heroics students probably would balk, of course. They like things to be media-friendly and make black-and-white sense.

But there were a couple of Underground and Intelligence heroes who would probably appreciate the lesson.

If the next batch of first years for homeroom are competent, Shouta promises himself, one of their lessons will be how to guard valuable information without leading a burglar right to it. Honestly, people don’t have sense anymore. Maybe Shouta should try another year like Nemuri suggested a while back. He’s been teaching first years too long. Maybe he should try a different homeroom. But Nedzu likes consistency, if a teacher found a homeroom that they meshed well with then they should follow them for all their years at UA.

Which usually meant that he was stuck with first years until he found a group of gremlins he’d like. He’d probably want to follow Izuku’s homeroom when he gets into UA in about two years.

A support system that it took the chimera a long time to form for himself. Nedzu was soft for a good found family story, even if he didn’t admit it out loud. Shouta doesn’t think he’ll find that for himself.

A motion sensor laser in front of a desk is telling him that there’s something valuable in the desk! Shouta weeps as an education, a pro hero, and someone with a one basic brain cell. Spending time around Izuku has spoiled him because that kid has intelligence is spades and it made Shouta forget that others do not.  He takes out to small compact mirrors, placing them at the same time. It kept the laser going but allowed for opening for Shouta to work.

At the very least, it was a nice neon sign for Shouta to focus his efforts on. He didn’t know how often drinks with the Aldera teachers last. But if it was like anything when the UA staff got together, it would be a couple of hours and a very questionable trip to a karaoke booth. One of the upsides of being fourteen again is that Shouta is missing the staff outing for the spring. He’ll take the victories where he can get them. Ah, good, the drawers opened easily under his lockpicks.

Amateur didn’t even think to rig up some kind of detonation or a false bottom for the drawer. Overconfident.

Shouta takes out the slim, almost pen-sized, device that’s a camera of Nedzu and Majima’s own design. No one ever suspects a pen. He takes pictures of the bank records and there are definitely some more concerning Meta Liberation Army documentation as well.

He takes out a small flash drive with a program that will hack into the computer and make a copy of the system onto it for Nedzu’s perusal. The bonus is leaving a back door for any hacking attempts. He shuffles through some more papers. Ugh this guy really does have a thing for Destro, doesn’t he?

Concerning, but this would be a job for an intelligence hero. Or one of the ones who made it their mission to snipe out the remaining splinter cells of Destro’s campaign. Do quirk laws need some revision? Yes. Yes, of course, they do. Just as everything needs revision in the government. No one ever wants to talk about such things until they become a problem.

If Nedzu ever decided to take over the government and install a shadow system, then Shouta would be fine with that. He was the chimera’s former personal student and, despite the meddling that occasionally popped up, was fond of him. Maybe he’ll let Shouta change what annoys him in that hypothetical system.

Shouta pauses when he opens a drawer.

Ew. He did not need to see the man’s porn.

Who kept that in their office? Who the hell bought it in print?

God, Shouta missed when people had secrets.

“Are you alright, Aikkun?” Izuku asks. “You looked tired.”

His friend had been staring off as if the trees had personally offended him. He’d been like that since they walked together to school this morning.

“Izuku,” Aikkun says suddenly.

“Yes?”

His friend turns his tired black eyes onto him, normally stoic face even more serious.

“If you only learn one thing that I ever teach, then let it be this. If you have anything important to hide, then, at minimum, invest in learning how to make false drawer bottoms.”

Um?

Maybe, Izuku should take Aikkun home to get some sleep.

But he nods, “Okay?”

Aikkun’s eyes narrow and he nods once, before grabbing a nutritional jelly packet from his pocket and slurping it down. He does not break eye contact while shotgunning the pouch.

Izuku does not know what to do with this.

Then Aikkun breaks eye contact. He continues walking to school like nothing happened.

Izuku really, really cares about his friend, but he was really so damn weird sometimes.

“I don’t get it,” Shinsou-kun says as they look at the craft store. Privately, Izuku agrees as well. They had met up after school and Aikkun declared that he had a heroics lesson for them. Izuku is about eighty percent sure that Aikkun’s mysterious uncle was Eraserhead. The similarities in quirks and what he found out about the man’s demeanor on message boards really matched up to AIkkun’s whole knowledge of heroics.

What better way to help than straight from the source?

“Hobbies are important to have,” Aikkun said. “Especially ones that can help relax the mind, crafting tends to help.”

Huh.

Actually, that’s very sweet. Mental health is not much talked about, especially in the heroics field. But having things unrelated to heroics to ground themselves in the now would make a lot of sense. His mother crochets to help with her anxiety. Maybe Izuku could learn? It didn’t seem as hard as knitting once you figured out the stitches. Or maybe embroidery! He saw a lot of pretty stuff when he fell down a rabbit—

“Mido,” Shinsou-kun sounds amused. “You’re mumbling.”

Izuku blushes, “Sorry!”

“Nah. It’s interesting. You’re really smart.”

With the praise from his crush, Izuku is pretty sure that he is bright red. Judging from Aikkun’s smirk, that’s not far off.

“Um, w-what do you do as a hobby, Aikkun?”

Aikkun slowly blinks at Izuku, like a cat, and deadpans, “I scrapbook.”

Then he turns to walk into the store with Shinsou-kun choking with laughter and Izuku unsure what to make of his odd friend.

(He did pick up his own set of crochet hooks and some very soft purple yarn. His Mom ends up showing him the basic stitches for Izuku to make a scarf. Maybe he’ll make one for Shinsou-kun. Is that weird? He hopes not.)

Shouta taps his fingers on the coffee table of his (temporary) apartment. The TV is on in the background, a low murmur of voices from some program keeping him company. He misses Hizashi and Bastard, misses Nemuri and Tensei even.

Undercover work is a necessary evil, but he tried to avoid it for a reason. Shouta has gotten used to his quiet little life. He likes his schedule crazy as it is and he likes Hizashi there in the background. He even misses Bastard demanding food and Nemuri declaring an impromptu movie. Or Tensei coming over to play video games.

He misses his colleagues and teaching. One thing about being a student again is how much Shouta misses being in charge. He likes teaching Ethics, dammit. Even if that’s admitted on pain of death. He even likes teaching the other hero classes. He misses patrols and being tall.

God, Shouta misses Hizashi, Bastard, being tall, and his friends in that order exactly. His stupid body had to wait until it was eighteen to suddenly shoot up and give him that extra height and fuck with his center of gravity. Maybe it’s the teenage hormones making him dramatic, but Shouta’s body hates him.

He doesn’t miss paperwork or the more annoying students or drunk criminals, but he misses his little life. He got soft for it, and he’s…weirdly homesick? With the way the case is going, Shouta only has a few more weeks to go until he reverts back to normal. Aldera will be handled. He’ll get Izuku into a better middle school and into some proper heroics training.

But it doesn’t help current Shouta, who lets himself have this illogical feeling. He’ll be back to his life soon, but not soon enough for him.

Loneliness and missing a life that is his, but not right now. Is this ennui? He’s not sure. He knew his emotions, of course. But never really delved into the nuances of them. Or never really wanted to find the proper names for the outright complicated ones. He isn’t the type of person to label everything, and his therapist helped him parse out the more complex feelings.

His phone buzzes, an alarm tone reminding Shouta of the time. He shuts off the television, grabs the phone, and opens the radio application on his phone before hitting play.

“Hey there, Listeners! Welcome to Put Your Hands Up Radio with your favorite rockin’ host, Present Mic!”

Shouta closes his eyes on the couch and listens to his husband’s cheerful voice.

He’ll be home soon enough.

“I think my Dad wants to snipe your Mom from the ER,” Hitoshi says over Discord. He got the latest version of Minecraft for his birthday and the two of them are making their own little house in a server.

“Oh! Mom has been thoughtful lately,” Izuku says, flushing. “And I know she’s tired of night shifts but I think the charge nurse gives her those because I’m quirkless. Mom should have gotten the promotion to charge nurse but…I think I ruined that for her.”

He remembers that burning shame. His mom had been so hopeful when that promotion came up about two years ago. She really thought she was going to get it. And she…

Izuku knows. He knows. That it’s because of him.

“Your mom loves you.”

“She does!” Izuku assures. “Mom’s the best mom in the world. But it’s not easy having a quirkless kid. People seem to think there’s something wrong with her from the way I was born. And it’s not fair.”

He knows his Mom wanted to send him somewhere else after Mikuchan’s fall last year, but she couldn’t find a local junior high that would accept him.

“No,” Hitoshi sounds angry but not angry at him. Izuku is familiar with people being angry at him. However, having Aikkun around has made that go down recently. “No. It’s not. And it’s fucked up and…”

“And Mom needs her job. I want to be a hero to make a better world.”

Izuku knows that he won’t have that sort of power as a pro hero. But it’s a nice dream, he thinks. Look at All Might. He’s the Number One Hero and the Symbol of Peace, but not even he can give peace to every corner of society. He’s just there to remind people to try their best.

To be their best.

“Sounds like a nice thought,” Hitoshi says quietly. “People suck.”

“Yeah, they do sometimes. But we find the ones that help us along.”

It’s why he never begrudged his mother for her friendship with Auntie Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru, even though Kacchan was not nice to him. He remembers after his dad died. Auntie practically lived with them those first few months after his death. He would walk through fire for that woman and handle all of Kacchan’s explosions for her.

You needed a friend like that. Someone who loved you so completely without strings attached. Izuku never got it with Kacchan, but his mom had it. And she deserved it. When he was a pro, he’d give her the world if she’d asked.

“I’m glad I met you.”

Izuku feels his cheeks flush, “You should call me Izuku.”

“It’s Hitoshi then. Unless I get a cute nickname.”

“Hitoshi,” Izuku says, unable to say the Toshi-chan that sits on his tongue. Not while his heart moves like a jackrabbit in his chest. Crushes are nice, he thinks. But friends like Hitoshi are even nicer. So he’s just not going to confess anything right now.

Just enjoy spending time with someone who really gets it.

(He’s also going to definitely encourage his Mom to take any nurse job that may be offered to her in the Heroics Ward.)

Chapter Text

“You’re really smart, Aikkun,” Izuku says as they sit on the roof to have lunch. Shouta sighs. He really doesn’t try to put any effort into the schoolwork Aldera gives him. But being Nedzu’s student apparently makes you have consistently high grades when undercover.

“You’re pretty smart too,” Shouta says, putting the chin in the palm of his hand. He watches as Izuku bites into the melon bread he was able to snag on the way to school. “But I’ve seen your analysis. You’re hiding your intelligence a bit.”

Izuku pauses and chuckles, “You’re too observant. It’s safer. Teachers don’t mind me in the top ten, but so long as I’m toward the bottom of it. So, I have a system figured out. UA needs good grades, after all.”

Shouta hates that he knows what Izuku is talking about. It was something he did himself, a long time ago. It was something that he did to keep himself safe. No one wanted to believe a future villain or someone with such a weak quirk could be so smart. It rankled him then, but now? Now, it just made him tired.

You’d think at some point something would break the camel’s back, but that damn camel seems to have a pretty damn strong back.

“That really sucks.”

“It’s the way of the world,” Izuku takes another bite of his food. “My friend, Mikuchan, he’s in Support at UA. He says it's different. That everyone is really nice. That a couple of the teachers stepped in when some Gen Ed kids and a Hero student bothered him.”

Huh.

Must have happened after Shouta went on assignment. He’ll have to figure out who the Hero student was.

So he could have a chat.

“I don’t think Nedzu would let people get away with that kind of thinking,” he says instead. He knows it’s true. Nedzu has little tolerance for bigots and bigotry. He has little tolerance for the emphasis on powerful quirks. The principal agreed with Shouta’s expulsions for a very good reason, after all.

He wants to make children that will change the world for the better, not continue the mistakes of the previous generation. If the Board refuses to let them change the Entrance Exam, well, then he has the final test in the hero course teachers. Though Shouta often feels like the last bastion as he hadn’t found the right group of students to want to follow for their years at UA. Yet, he supposed.

“He sounds like it! I-It was so cool when he said quirkless students could apply to the Heroics course. I cried.”

Izuku cries at everything though. But Shouta knows what he means by it.

“You cried when Shinsou sent you that picture of a baby deer the other day.”

“Aikkun! It’s so tiny!”

The fawn is very cute, but Shouta does not need to deal with the flood of tears. He knows Izuku’s quirkless with the special shoes and everything, but he’s almost tempted to try to use Erasure the next time he cries. Just to double-check. No one can produce that many tears.

Except, apparently, Midoriya-san.

Speaking of.

“Oh God. Izuku please don’t cry about the fawn again."

“It’s amazing how you keep doing that,” Aikkun says wryly after school. The pair of them were headed to pick up some wrist weights for Izuku to wear when doing workouts. He pouts over at his friend.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about!”

(He, of course, knew exactly what he was talking about. There was a really tall boy with the coolest hybrid of mutant and transformation quirk that he’d seen in a while. And, well, some people weren’t being so nice on the train and were staring at him.

So Izuku may have dragged Aikkun over and acted like he knew the other boy, Shoji. He didn’t ask about his quirk even if he really wanted to. Instead, he just acted like they were old friends catching up so people would stop being jerks to him, staring at him like he was something other than a person. He thinks Aikkun may have also been glaring at them. And Aikkun’s glare could be pretty scary.

He did forget to get the other boy’s number. Which was a shame because they had a lovely conversation about a very cool mutant hero named The Beastmaster over in Canada. But he needed to get off at his stop. Oh, well, maybe the other boy wouldn’t want to know him anyway if he’d found out about his lack of a quirk.)

“Uh-huh.”

“Why are you so mean to me, Aikkun?”

Aikkun pokes Izuku in his side, making him squirm.

“You’re on a rest day today. So, I need to get my sadistic kicks in somewhere.”

His friend was very into that, making sure Izuku didn’t work himself into the ground.

“You’ll do no good to anyone if you work yourself to the point of breaking.”

Aikkun’s really smart like that, and mature. He feels more adult than most adults Izuku knows, to be honest.

“Do you want to stop somewhere for a snack after? I think there’s a really good taiyaki place nearby.”

Izuku normally wasn’t a big sweet person. He preferred something salty for his snacks, but a taiyaki sounded really good to him. Aikkun pauses, looking up at the ceiling before nodding.

“Yeah. It’s been a while since I had taiyaki,” he agrees. “One of my friends used to drag me to a place sometimes.”

Aikkun’s tone is as even as always, but there’s a sadness to it that Izuku recognizes all too well. One that he and his Mom get when they miss Dad, like a sharp prick to their heart. He doesn’t ask who Aikkun lost because the kid was probably close to their age. So, it probably wasn’t to anything good.

“Well, then, we’ll get one in honor of your friend too. What was their favorite flavor?”

“Custard Cream.”

Izuku nods seriously. Then they’ll get a custard cream to split in honor of Aikkun’s friend who makes him speak in that tone of fondness and sadness.

His friend huffs a laugh, eyes almost soft.

“You’re a good person, Izuku,” he says, knocking their shoulders together. “Let’s go get those wrist weights for you.”

Another night, another break-in. Such is the life of an underground hero currently undercover; the glamor will never cease to amaze.

If the whole hero thing hadn’t worked out as well as it had, then Shouta would have made an excellent cat burglar. He would have gotten a balaclava with cat ears on it and everything, like that pre-quirk comic vigilante Catwoman. (Now she? She had a theme he could get behind.) He wanted to double-check Fujiwara’s second property, just to make sure it was a hideout and not some sort of evil lair. Logically, he didn’t think Fujiwara was that smart for it. However, the finely honed underground hero paranoia told Shouta to verify, verify, verify.

Honestly, for a bolt-hole, Shouta definitely expected a bit more security for the place. At the very least, Fujiwara tried to (poorly) boobytrap his office at Aldera and his primary residence. But nothing on the home that his parents left him? Really? Yeah, Shouta had no clue what went on in people’s heads. He’s not asking for a higher caliber of villains, but he’s been going to junior high for two months. He’s getting restless.

The alarm system is easy enough to disable.

And Shouta heads into the house. Nothing interesting catches his eye. He finds a safe with an offshore account in the Caymans and a passable fake ID. Ah, not a bolthole then. Fujiwara just needed a place for his escape plan. Again, Shouta curses stupid criminals trying to be clever. It always gets messy.

He photographs the ID and the bank account. Even after the appearance of quirks, Cayman banks were a nightmare and half to deal with. Nedzu will not be thrilled, but this was not Shouta’s problem. Thankfully.

And, well, hello there.

He found Fujiwara’s expulsion letter from his B-tier hero school. Shouta is a bit perturbed that the man has kept it. Unsurprisingly, he was expelled for “conduct unbecoming” which covers a variety of charges. But the context of the letter, it was due to his quirkist beliefs that he couldn’t keep aside for the sake of his heroic duties. Expelled from a hero course with such beliefs, Shouta can see how it led him to Destro’s disturbing creed.

(Nedzu may be keeping an eye on the kids Shouta has expelled who showed similar beliefs. The death of a dream can lead to the birth of a villain. Shouta doesn’t expel for the hell of it, after all. Sometimes, students learn the lesson he wants to teach through expulsion and become better heroes.

Others do not, and they would be liabilities in the field one way or another.)

He takes a photo of the letter as well.

Katsuki always arrives fairly early to school. Part of it is to study in quiet, he loves the Hag and the Old Man, but silent mornings are not something known in the Bakugou household. So if he wants to look over his homework or get some last-minute studying in for a test, then the extras at school know when and when not to bother him.

They’ve been on edge around him. Ever since he told them off about bothering Deku, he couched it in terms they could understand.

(“If I’m going to get out of this hellhole of a district and into UA, then I can’t look like I was a fucking bully,” Katsuki growled with palms popping. “So just leave Deku the fuck alone, okay? No more messing with him. Just fucking pretend he’s not there for all I care.”)

Looking at the singular red spider lily on his childhood friend’s desk for the sixth time in two years, it rattles Katsuki more than he wants to admit. He doesn’t know who left. None of the extras have arrived yet.

He doesn’t know what it’s rattling him like this. He’s seen it before. After the other quirkless kid had to leave school last year, the upperclassmen switched their attention onto Deku. And Katsuki didn’t care.

Why didn’t he care?

“You have a privilege that few get to enjoy,” Eyebags’ voice whispers in Katsuki’s ear.

He remembered the absolute heartbreak in Izuku’s eyes the first time he saw the flowers on the desk and the bitter resignation by the fifth. He remembers a smaller Izuku with scraped knees and palms, arms splayed out because Katsuki was bullying another extra with a weak quirk. He remembers Izuchan smiling at him.

We’re gonna be the best Hero Duo in the world, Kacchan!

He needed to get rid of it. Before Deku came to school.

He grabs the flower and knows enough to not throw it away in the classroom. The fucking nerd is perceptive like that. Who...

The janitors.

Izuku is always unfailingly polite to everyone, especially service staff. And they are fond of the nerd. Katsuki has seen lunch ladies slip him new food if his tray has been knocked out of his hands. He’s seen janitors allow the nerd to hide in closets or try to clean his desk if someone messed with it.

They’d handle it.

He pokes his head out of the classroom and sees the one with the sunglasses, Yawa? No, that’s not it. Yamada? No.

He doesn’t remember the guy’s name, but he stops in front of him.

“Can I help you, kid?”

“Someone put another flower on Dek-Midoriya’s desk,” he shoves it at him. “Get rid of it.”

A pause as the man stares at him.

“Please,” Katsuki grounds out.

The janitor tosses it in the giant trash can he has without a second thought. He then turns to look at him from behind those sunglasses.

“Thanks.”

Katsuki nods firmly, once.

If he wants to be a hero, then he has to be a hero in every fucking aspect of it.

Izuku’s certain that some of the teachers at Aldera Junior High are actually former villains posing as teachers. He’s cross-referenced quirks on the side when he can. And he is pretty certain that it’s not just family members of people who have done crimes.

Which is worrying.

Izuku twists his fingers as he looks at his evidence. Not that there is much. It’s hard telling people his suppositions and logical leaps. But he also doesn’t know what to do about it? Does he call it into the police? Does he send in an anonymous tip? Does he tell his Mom?

He taps the cover of his notebook with his finger, listening to the tip of his nail hit the hardcover.

He’ll keep it close for now. And he’ll figure out what to do with it.

There are criminals in the walls of Aldera Junior High.

Although, Izuku had known that fact for a while now.  

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Izuku gets lonely on the nights when his mom has to work. He remembers when he was little and his Dad would make up all sorts of fun games to keep him distracted. But after his death and Mom’s switch to night shifts, it just yawns before him.

Hitoshi-kun is going to a cousin’s dance recital tonight. Izuku doesn’t want to play video games solo or update his analysis work. At least, not alone. He’s been spoiled, these past two months, with attention, with friends.

Maybe Aikkun wouldn’t mind him hanging out for a bit? The quiet is just too quiet for the time being. He wanted to be around someone, and his Mom wouldn’t mind if he was at Aikkun’s apartment. Izuku nods and grabs his latest analysis notebook and phone, shoving a tangle of headphones and keys into his pockets to go across the hall to Aikkun’s place.

His friend opens the door, brow furrowed, “Izuku? Everything okay?”

“I’m sorry to bother you!” he blurts out. “But um…this is weird. I was just lonely. And I know you’re alone here and I just—”

Aikkun leans against the door, and Izuku sees his expression soften in the specific way it does. Once you got used to seeing the minor changes in his facial expressions, then the other teenager became pretty easy to read.

At least, in Izuku’s opinion.

“Do you want to come in and hang out for a little bit?”

“Please?”

Aikkun chuckles and stands aside to let Izuku come in, tired eyes bemused.

“You could just text or something.”

Izuku grins sheepishly, “It seemed rude? Or maybe showing up was the rude part.”

His friend snorts, tilting his head to the side and smirking.

“It’s cute that you think I know a damn thing about social graces.”

Izuku grins, “Aikkun does, but just doesn’t care. Too much effort.”

His friend flips him off before heading to the kitchen. Izuku giggles as he settles on the couch. A little clench of anxiety worms its way around his heart. He just needed to double-check that this was really okay for him to be here.

“You sure you don’t mind? Everything just felt too quiet with Mom at work and Hitoshi-kun had a family thing.”

“No. Besides I need someone to share my impulse purchase with me,” Aikkun shakes his head. He brings out some cheesecake from the fridge. “Tea or hot cocoa?”

The night is starting to turn a bit too warm as summer approaches ever closer.

“Tea please with—”

“Milk and some honey, I know. And I was…the apartment felt big for me too. So, it’s logical we spend some time together even if we don’t talk.”

Izuku takes comfort in that. Aikkun couches the need to be around another person in terms of rationality and logic. That comfort is only something that helps keeps the psyche, the soul, well and truly fed. It makes him feel better about seeking it.

He curls up on one end of Aikkun’s couch and takes out his latest analysis notebook.

“Who’s the subject this time?”

“Mister Prime in the UK,” Izuku says absentmindedly. “I think I finally figured out the activations for his quirk. Maybe. He keeps a tighter lock on it than Sir Nighteye’s quirk and that’s saying something.”

He’s pretty sure that the emitter quirk needs some form of sunlight, given the solar paneling on his costume. However, it also doesn’t seem to require direct sunlight. It’s definitely not passive absorption stockpiled over time but…  

“You’re going to dry out your throat if you mutter that fast,” Aikkun says, amusement clear in his voice. “Drink the tea. Eat some cheesecake. Do you mind if I put on some music?”

“Go for it. Let me know if the muttering bothers you.”

“Nah. It doesn’t. It’s pretty interesting.”

Izuku blushes, pleased at that. It still catches him off guard, when people don’t think he’s creepy for his analysis. When they think that he’s something really special instead. Or maybe not special, but valued.

It’s nice.

So, he curls up on his friend’s couch. Aikkun sprawls out on the plush rug to read a book, music with a lot of guitars and whisper-yelling-singing playing in the background. Izuku settles in for a few hours of analysis and enjoying his friend’s company until his eyes feel too heavy and he stumbles across the hall to go to bed.

Shouta’s going to miss this with Izuku when he’s back to normal in three weeks, arresting everyone in sight, and closing down Aldera. If this kid isn’t totally pissed with Shouta lying to him, then things are going to change. There’s a power difference between an adult and a child, a respect that has been ingrained from a young age.

Izuku’s a polite kid, and Shouta thinks he’ll miss being friends with him. Or maybe, they’ll be able to figure something out in this new power dynamic.

That whole “respect your elders” garbage. Shouta only gave his respect to people who deserved his respect. Age, in that case, was irrelevant.

Izuku, over this assignment, has earned Shouta’s respect, which was not something he gave easily as many could attest. The kid was tough and kind, smart. Shouta did respect brains over brawn in many aspects.

“Izuku, why are you looking at a sword?” he asks. They’re on their way home from school to do some afternoon training. His friend grins at him innocently.

“Oh! Do you remember that really nice guy the other day we met? The one with the sentient quirk?”

Shouta vaguely remembers Izuku running into another middle school student who had twisted their ankle while on their afternoon run. He insisted to Shouta that they help the kid, getting him to his bus stop with the help of his shadowy quirk.

“Yes.”

“Well, he mentioned that he had a sword! In his room! And that’s just about the coolest thing ever. It was blunted so he can’t use it, but I’d like a sword for my room. I think it would be a pretty cool decoration.”

“Uh-huh.”

Shouta only has visions of Izuku dropping the sword and severing a toe in his head. Izuku puffs out his cheeks like an angry squirrel, crossing his arms.

“Don’t give me that look, Aikkun! Swords are cool!”

Shouta pauses for a second, “Okay I can’t really argue with you there. Swords are pretty cool. But also expensive.”

Izuku sighs, “Yeah. I guess I should budget for that kind of thing. Maybe by the time I’m in high school, I could get it.”

Excellent, he’d be under adult supervision. Or Shouta’s supervision. Most days, he has to remind himself that he counts as adult supervision and usually in a teaching capacity. Shouta’s an adult, but he was also a very big Lord of the Rings fan growing up. If he could get a replica of Andúril, then he would fight most of the Top Ten to get it.

“Blunted.”

“Duh. I don’t want to lose any toes.”

“Not fingers?”

“Toes are more likely because I’ll drop it.”

Well, at the very least he and Izuku both catastrophize in similar paths.

Shouta snorts at Izuku’s deadpan.

“Come on. You’re not getting out of training. Flexibility today.”

Izuku groans at that.

“The accounts from Fujiwara’s homes seem to run to a couple of different small outfits of the MLA, trying to get off the ground,” Nedzu says. “And it seems to be an in we needed to find bigger outfits as well. Needless to say, this is quite a lovely turnaround for us. Akatani-kun’s instincts were spectacular. I am having Power Loader give him extra credit for the year.”

“What now then?” Shouta asks as he stirs the udon.

“We still need a few weeks to get the dominos in place. You’ll finish out the month at Aldera and arrest Fujiwara and the false teachers in his employ. There will be coordinated attacks against the MLA throughout Japan. Hopefully, we’ll be able to nip this in the bud before it becomes a further nuisance down the line.”

“So, it’s just a waiting game then.”

“You’re quite patient, Shouta. Take the remaining time as something of a vacation. Keep an eye on Fujiwara and those that he smuggled into his school. Make sure no one is any of the wiser to our plans.”

Shouta nods.

“I don’t suppose this quirk can wear off sooner than that?”

“It’s possible. Wantanabe-san said it could reverse close to the end date if a huge rush of adrenaline is triggered.”

“Good to know. So avoid fights.”

“Not like you’ve gotten into many. I’m surprised.”

“Apparently, my quirk scares these kids far more than it did for my middle school bullies,” Shouta muses.

“Don’t discount an adult mindset and your low tolerance for, and this is a direct quote from yourself Shouta, ‘other people’s quirkist bullshit’.”

Oh yeah.

Shouta did say that after his first mass expulsion, didn’t he? There’s a reason why Nedzu doesn’t let him talk to the UA Board of Directors anymore. And there’s also a reason why the Board of Directors lets him handle his classroom the way he wants.

Twenty-eight-year-old Shouta is definitely a lot more mellow in comparison to the twenty-four-year-old new teacher and fresh out-of-bullshit excuses Shouta. Who had gone through a special intensive teaching degree designed by Nedzu himself at a local college. Present Shouta does not want to be that guy again.

“That tracks,” he agrees. “Have you reached out to your contacts at Somei?”

“Oh yes! The Headmaster of the junior high thinks he can work something out once the investigation is complete. So long as your protégé and friend can live up to your lofty expectations.”

“He will,” Shouta promises.

“But I’m not really sure about Best Jeanist’s newest costume,” Izuku mutters to Aikkun as they head up to the roof. “I know patchwork denim is in right now, but I wonder if there’s different variables to the composites that a Support Company hasn’t really considered.”

“Hmmm.”

Izuku barrels on, knowing that Aikkun means nothing by only making noise to show he’s listening. Because his friend really does listen to him, and it’s nice. It continues to be nice even a couple of months into knowing the other boy.

“So I hope that it can be used without disrupting the flow of his attacks and—”

Izuku shuts his mouth when he sees Fujiwara-sensei heading down the hallway. The man made it more than clear back in his first year that people like him are meant to be seen and not heard, especially when talking about Quirks. Izuku should not talk about something he doesn’t have so casually.

Aikkun pauses at his expression before casually stepping to the other side of Izuku, “Sun’s getting in my eyes.”

His friend isn’t much taller than Izuku, but it does let him believe that he’s being hidden from Fujiwara-sensei. He doesn’t like how the man looks at him, doesn’t like how he refuses to hide the venom in his eyes. Everyone tries to be PC even when they bullied him or pushed Mikuchan down the stairs. He doesn’t know who’s more insidious at times: the people who pretend not to have hate in their hearts or those who show it openly for the world to see.

And Fujiwara-sensei is a villain, or villain-adjacent, helping other villains. So that doesn’t help Izuku’s own nerves about it.

“You good?” Aikkun asks once they are out of earshot of the principal.

Izuku nods, “I’m really glad you’re here, Aikkun.”

He doesn’t notice the complicated expression that flashes across his friend’s face. Izuku does, however, feel Aikkun’s arm around his shoulders.

“Me too.”

Midoriya Izuku, Shouta thinks, is the sort of friend that will inevitably lead to heartbreak at the end of one kind or another.

It’s a thought that he’s had before. Shirakumo feels like the most prophetic one, given the tragedy and heartbreak that actually came out of it. Izuku is a lot like Oboro in personality, especially when he gets comfortable with a person. They both have that zest for life, that same passion for heroics.

They smile similarly.

Izuku, however, will be fourteen soon. And he’s a smart kid and a good person. He has the makings of a great hero. Shouta is also going to break his heart soon. (Sometimes, the heartbreak isn’t your heart being broken after all.)

Because the clock is ticking down now. Shouta is relieved for it and dreads it in equal measure. He wants to go home, wants to go back to Hizashi because hearing his husband’s voice on the radio just isn’t doing it for him anymore. Izuku, well, Izuku’s going to lose a friend in a way, and will probably hate Shouta for lying to him the past couple of months.

Or maybe not, Izuku forgives too easily. He doesn’t want to even touch the minefield of his friend’s relationship with Bakugou. Shouta prays he’s not the poor bastard who’ll deal with that future headache. At the very least, it seems like the blonde had gotten his head out of his ass, so yay for middle schoolers taking their first baby steps to full-on adult growth, he supposes.

Shouta will be glad to be done with all the fucking drama. Like high schoolers have drama, of course, and Izuku himself was a drama-free person, but it didn’t help that middle schools were a cesspit of drama. All Shouta wants is to get through these next couple of weeks with his friendship/mentorship with Izuku intact.

Chapter Text

“Here’s what I don’t get,” Shinsou says after school one day. “I mean I don’t get a lot of things, but I’m wondering how your school is standing. Like I don’t get it.”

“Spite at this point,” Shouta answers tiredly.

It was one of the rare days that Somei let out earlier than Aldera. When Shouta and Izuku were done for the day, a tall lavender-haired middle schooler is slouched against one of the walls in his fancy private school uniform and a wry comment on the state of the school building.Valid. Shouta thinks Fujiwara should have been brought up on a building code violation or something by now.

“Hitoshi-kun,” Izuku greets warmly. Both of them have pink cheeks and Shouta almost toys with the idea of making up an excuse and letting them have a middle schooler date. Almost because he sees a couple of third years with some nasty looks in their eyes. Shouta glares at them, letting a bit of Erasure flicker in his eyes.

The third years with the nasty looks stop, suddenly afraid without their quirks.

“Let’s not hang around here too long,” he says.

Izuku looks over his shoulder and nods hurriedly, “C’mon. We should go somewhere else.”

He grabs Hitoshi’s arm and leads him away from the gate. Shouta follows though keeping his awareness up. His quirk had done a lot of heavy lifting and his general demeanor has as well. When he was younger, kids bullied him due to his villain’s quirk and temper, quiet as it was. Now, he has nothing to prove to them because he proved it to himself.

And that throws off middle schoolers especially. It’s an awkward time for most, after all. And someone so confident and settled into their skin with a quirk like Erasure? It definitely intimidates them more this time around.

“Aikkun!”

Shouta looks over at Izuku with a raised eyebrow, “Yes?”

“Hitoshi-kun said a new café had opened up. It’s not a cat one though, but they have cat-themed pastries. Do you want to see if we can get in?”

Fuck. That sounds adorable. And Izuku is bouncing lightly on his toes, curls bobbing every which way.

“Sure.” He huffs out. He then meets Izuku’s eyes square on. “You look like a rabbit when you bounce like that.”

Shinsou bursts out laughing at Izuku’s vaguely offended face.

Sometimes, Izuku thinks about his future and pushes it in as optimistic terms as possible. He will be a hero with a smile who will save everyone he can. He will be a role model for Quirkless kids, for the kids who need a hero and find out about Izuku. And he’ll have a happy if busy life. It’s half-formed, mainly because part of him, deep down, believed that it would never come to fruition.

Izuku’s an optimist, but he’s not dumb. He knows the statistics and the odds. He clings to his dreams of heroism because he needs it like he needs air in his lungs. Aikkun believes in him and so does Hitoshi. And he’s getting training now as well!

But, ugh, sometimes he feels like he’ll never catch up.

“My arms feel like rubber,” he groans into the yoga mat.

Aikkun laughs, the sadist.

“It’s good,” his friend promises. “It means things are working how they are supposed to.”

“I feel like I’m never gonna catch up.”

There’s a long moment of silence at that and Izuku looks over to see Aikkun lying down next to him on the ground.

“It feels like that, huh?”

Honesty is something Izuku wishes come easier to him than it does. He spent most of his life with a lie on his lip and a placating smile on his face. To assure his mother that everything is fine. To assure his Auntie and Uncle that he was okay when Kacchan pushed him too hard. It’s those little lies that he tries to use to get through the day.

And then lying becomes like a habit, even when the truth so desperately wants to crawl out of his throat.

He doesn’t want to lie to Aikkun though, not to his first friend in such a long time. No, his friend likes honesty so Izuku tells him the worry gnawing at his gut. That pokes its head up every so often. He’d call it on an old friend, but it made him feel so very awful sometimes. But sometimes, people who call themselves friends make you feel like that.

So maybe the worry was an old friend, just one that didn’t like him very much. Izuku sighed into the mat before sitting up on his rubbery limbs.

“I just, everyone’s probably been training for years and I’m just starting this year. And n-not that I’m not grateful! I am. You’re helping me a lot. But it feels like it just won’t be enough maybe. And then where will my dream be?”

“You just started training your body this year,” Aikkun says gently. “Which is on par for most heroics students, or students who are getting into hero courses. And you already have the best qualities of being a hero, Izuku.”

He taps his head and heart.

“Heroes who can think survive and heroes with a deep well of empathy can be the very best of them all. You have both in spades. And it will be noticed, okay? You’re just too good not to be. It’s logical to be scared. But it’s illogical to feel left behind when you’re further ahead on two of three fronts. Physicality can be improved and taught, brains and empathy are a lot harder to cultivate in the long term.”

Izuku feels a familiar lump in his throat at that. Aikkun really wasn’t a pep talk sort of friend, but he was honest. And it warms his heart a little bit to know his friend believes in him and won’t let him get beaten down. His shoulders lose their tension and Izuku pulls himself into a sitting position.

“And there are other ways to get into the Hero Course.”

“And there are other ways to get into the Hero Course,” Aikkun agrees. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’ll be a hero, Izuku. Because you deserve to be one.”

And really? What else can Izuku do to that but cry?

He hears Aikkun sigh, “I’m going to get some tissues.”

Izuku reminds Shouta so much of Oboro sometimes that it hurts. Like almost physically hurts when he sees a smile or hears a laugh and expects to see blue hair and tanned skin instead of green and freckles. Oboro was a supernova of a person: beautiful to witness, destructive in its death, leaving behind an emotional wreckage that he could never comprehend.

He desperately doesn’t want Midoriya Izuku to break his goddamn heart like that. Shouta doesn’t think he could survive that sort of radiation burn of a loss.

He and Izuku are still lying together, side by side on the yoga mats, after Shouta got the crying kid some tissues. He’s staring up at the ceiling of his apartment, remembering staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom when he was actually fourteen.

He remembers that quiet sort of desperation that just dug into him, wanting to be a hero and being scared for the death of that dream. And then it was a different sort of desperation when he was seventeen: wanting to be a hero yet knowing the price people pay and how deeply unfair it is.

Aizawa Shouta will help Midoriya Izuku become a hero. This person with limitless potential just brimming and bursting out of him. People deserve all sorts of heroes, but they deserve the heroes with bright blue eyes and brighter smiles, they deserve the heroes with green hair and heroic hearts most of all.

“Just promise me when you become a hero,” Shouta says. “That you realize that you’re also someone worth saving too.”

Izuku stares at him with solemn green eyes. And there’s that heartbreaking look on his face, of someone who doesn’t know his worth, of someone society has beaten down. Shouta’s known that look, it’s one he’s had before.

“You don’t have to promise me now. Just one day.”

He’ll drill self-worth and respect into the kid if he has to one way or another. Izuku’s health and safety matter just as much as anyone he could hypothetically save. Maybe, he’ll figure it out one day how to explain it.

“One day,” Izuku promises. And that seems like the easier promise for him to keep.

Shouta knows the clock is ticking down. He can feel that call back to his life, but this is important to.

Izuku hates running into teachers outside of school. It’s one of the most awkward things a person can experience, especially when said person is well aware that teachers do not like them. Because you need to be polite, but you also don’t have the socially acceptable escape of the bell ending class.

It’s probably even worse when you run into your principal. Because Izuku knows that the man hates him. He’s well aware of people’s ire toward the quirkless, but there’s thinking that they’re unevolved and then there’s thinking that they should die in a fire. And Fujiwara-sensei’s eyes on him always made him feel like the latter.

So when he runs into the man, literally and accidentally, Izuku curses his bad luck.  He picks up his drop bags and the few papers that are scattered. He spent an hour at a cat café alone to read a book and work on his notes before picking things up for dinner for Mom.

“F-Fujiwara-sensei,” he bows slightly. “H-Hello sir. A-Apologies for bumping into you like that.”

“Midoriya,” the man grumbles. “Out running errands?”

“Y-Yes sir,” he keeps his eyes down politely. “Mom needed a couple of extra things for dinner.”

“I see. And how is your mother?”

Izuku doesn’t like the way he says the word mother. There’s a bit of an ugly sneer to it, like the man thinks his mom isn’t worth the title. Like she isn’t worth a million Fujiwara-senseis. She doesn’t do bad things, like embezzlement or helping villains or whatever nasty shady acts the man is doing behind closed doors.

Izuku’s notes on that subject are tucked away in his bag.

“S-She’s doing well, s-sir. Th-thanks for asking.”

“Hn. Well, I won’t keep you, Midoriya. Go on home now. Not safe for a kid like you.”

A quirkless kid is what Izuku hears between the lines. He bows his head again and scurries off.

He doesn’t notice Fujiwara-sensei picking up a few scattered pieces of paper or the way the man watches him leave with a narrow glare in his eyes.

Shouta had days left before the quirk finally wore off, so long as he didn’t have any major bursts of adrenaline to accelerate the process. He didn’t quite know what to tell Izuku though.

And that was a bit of a dilemma for Shouta. One that he was definitely going to have to figure out. He wasn’t expecting to be attached to the kid, after all. He wishes he could talk with Hizashi, if only because the other man was infinitely better with feelings than Shouta ever was.

Period.

He’s debating whether or not to continue his current internal crisis over dinner or not when he hears a frantic knock at the door. Odd, Izuku’s not supposed to come over.

“Midoriya-san?” he asks, seeing the frantic woman on the other side.

“Aikawa-kun,” her lip wobbles slightly. “I-Is Izuku with you? He went out to run some errands for me and he was supposed to be home two hours ago. And I thought maybe he got caught up with you. But I’ve been texting and calling him and it goes to voicemail.”

Dread, sharp and cold, pools into Shouta’s stomach at that.

“No, Midoriya-san,” the words force out like molasses, sticky and slow, between his teeth. “Izuku’s not here.”

Chapter Text

“I have to admit, Eraser,” Tsukauchi Naomasa begins, staring down at Shouta. “This is a new one, even for our friendship. If Nedzu hadn’t given me the heads up, then I wouldn’t have believed it.”

He levels his flattest, most unimpressed stare that sends to-be-expelled students, new heroes, and officers who think that Shouta’s some sort of robot into a cold sweat. Tsukauchi, the bastard, merely looks amused at the look instead. Clearly, it’s lost some potency on adults with the baby fat clinging to Shouta’s cheeks.

Shouta rolls his eyes, “Is Midoriya-san…?”

Tsukauchi sobered up at that.

“As okay as she can be given the circumstances. Sansa is staying with her for the time being and she’s called a friend over to sit with her. But she has no idea who could have taken the kid,” the detective sighs, sitting down on a chair. “She genuinely has no idea who could have taken her son. You think there’s any connection to your case?”

Probably, Shouta was a Problem Child back in his day. But he knows, deep in his heart, that Midoriya Izuku is going to surpass him for that title. At the very least, Shouta wasn’t the sort of Problem Child who got kidnapped.

His insides twist coldly at the thought of Izuku being somewhere: alone and scared. Or, well, alone and compartmentalizing like a champ.

“Fujiwara, we still have cameras in his properties,” Shouta murmurs, also compartmentalizing like a champ. He goes to get the secret Nedzu-programmed laptop. “But the kid figured out that Fujiwara was embezzling from the school and he figured out the link between the Hokkaido Thief and one of the teachers. Not sure how deeply he got into it though. He’s very clever.”

Tsukauchi leans over Shouta’s shoulder as he brings up the feeds, “Sounds it. Know anything about the coded journals of heroes?”

“Quirk analysis. I’m going to throw him at Nedzu once he’s in UA. It should be fine. Maybe.”

Fujiwara was an idiot who was trying to be clever, which means that he wouldn’t take Izuku to his apartment. No, he’d take him to the place where he had a fake ID at the ready. Shouta picks the feeds of Fujiwara’s parents’ former property. It would take about half an hour to get there, maybe more if he was going through traffic.

Shouta’s calculations on time were pretty right on the money, thankfully.

“There,” he says. “There he is.”

Fujiwara carries a bundled-up and unconscious Izuku through the door. The way he’s placed in the blanket makes it look like someone is carrying a sleeping child into the house. But Shouta could see the slight trickle of blood in the boy’s temple.

It’s only the rhythmic rise and fall of Izuku’s chest that keeps Shouta’s heart beating.

Yeah, looks like Shouta’s about to hit a growth spurt by the night’s end.

“I’m going to go put my costume on,” he says, eerily calm. “And then I’m going to save Izuku. Maybe if I’m very lucky I’ll still be fourteen when I kick Fujiwara’s ass so the man has to live with the indignity of it. Please call Nedzu and tell him that we need to move up some plans by a couple of days, Tsukauchi. Thank you.”

He then stands and goes to the bedroom where he’s hidden his hero costume. Well, looks like it’s time to stop being a teenager in body.

Time to make Fujiwara pay the fucking Piper or meet the Grim Reaper, Shouta’s not picky right at this moment.

“I definitely didn’t hear that last part,” Tsukauchi mutters under his breath before starting to make some calls.

Probably for the best. Shouta definitely isn’t going to lose another friend this time around.

Not if he can help it.

Izuku comes to consciousness slowly. There’s a sharp stinging pain in his head that could or could not be a concussion. He didn’t remember what happened last.

He was walking home after running into Fujiwara-sensei…

And then…

Hm.

Well, and then, he woke up here. Wherever here is, Izuku’s eyes remain closed until he has to get visual input. There are no hospital sounds around him. He’s on the ground, the cold seeping into his side. His arms are bound in what feels like rope. Izuku feels fear try to claw up through his throat, but years of bullying had made him adept at pushing it back down.

He can be afraid later when he is safe. Same as his head can hurt later, he can feel the pain later. Not now. It doesn’t help of course, but it does settle him.

Right now, Izuku is in danger and that means that he needs to focus. He listens quietly, hearing the sound of footsteps from above, but nothing around him. Deciding to risk it, Izuku opens his eyes just a crack.

He’s in someone’s junk room.

Well then.

There are a couple of boxes piled up in a corner, some futons, papers, and a dresser with a broken drawer. Izuku zeroes in on that. For one, it’s the closest thing to him. The other, more exciting reason, is because the metal slide for the drawer to meet the runner had been broken. And it looks sharp.

Sharp enough to maybe cut through rope if Izuku works it.

Excellent. His bag is also nearby, the kidnapper was smart enough to take his phone. But his mom had given him a personal alarm that was loud as hell. Hopefully, if he set it off then he could alert a neighbor and pray that the Bystander Effect didn’t kick in.

But that’s a problem for future Izuku, current Izuku needs to free his hands. Current Izuku doesn’t envy Future Izuku because that unlucky fellow actually has to attempt to escape when his hands are free.

Izuku’s feet aren’t tied up, thankfully, but he doesn’t trust him to stand without getting dizzy. And he wants to get to the potential freedom of being able to use his hands if possible. So, he very carefully and painstakingly crawls across the floor. 

He pushes himself up slowly and sits in front of the broken drawer.

Izuku carefully starts to work the ropes, hoping someone will come for him soon.

Wherever he is.

Shouta has always considered himself to be a person who is slow to anger. Sure, he gets annoyed. Annoyance is part of his day-to-day existence and he’s more than happy to show it to the world. It’s his near state of being.

Grass is green. Water is wet. Aizawa Shouta is annoyed.

But anger? Real and true anger? The sort that burns in his stomach like molten lava and makes the vicious streak in him all the sharper? That only comes out on special occasions.

Like his friend getting kidnapped by the world’s lamest criminal, for example. That makes Shouta angry. Situational awareness training as soon as Izuku is safe, Fujiwara is in jail, and Shouta has slept for three weeks.

Also so long as Izuku doesn’t hate him.

Something unpleasant twists in his gut at that, but he puts it on the back burner.

His hero costume is a bit baggy, naturally, but it is good enough for now. Once the fight started with Fujiwara and Shouta knew there would be a fight, then he was going to have to be quick. Watanabe-san said that her quirk was less pleasant with the forced adrenaline reversal.

A moment’s stumble could mean the difference between life and death.

He looks at the house in the distance.

Time to save Izuku.

“You always were too damn nosy for your own good,” Fujiwara-sensei sneers at Izuku.

Fantastic.

His douchebag of a principal is going to monologue at him. Izuku had enough of that during his first year of middle school, thank you very much. He, of course, didn’t say it out loud. If he could survive this, then Izuku would prefer to see his fourteenth birthday in a couple of weeks.

“Now how did you gather all this information?”

Oh.

Maybe Izuku shouldn’t tune out someone’s grand villainous monologue, huh?

“A lot of i-it is c-circumstantial, F-Fujiwara-sensei,” he says quietly, very carefully moving his hands up and down. “Um but it’s j-just stupid co-conjecture! Besides w-who would believe a q-quirkless kid?”

“Conjecture, huh?”

Fujiwara-sensei leans down. His breath is warm on Izuku’s face. Those hate-filled eyes stare into his soul.

“No one like a liar, Midoriya.”

“I-I’m not lying!”

“Oh I think you are, you quirkless little freak. Your unevolved ass had to be forced on me from day one, but I think I’m going to enjoy this. Destro said your kind are a stain on the planet. Now, I get to wipe you from it.”

Izuku closes his eyes tightly at that.

Fuck.

Destro. Now that was a name that definitely shouldn’t be said anywhere in Japan. It’s only mentioned on a few message boards that Izuku technically shouldn’t know about or have access too. But, well, you get unrestricted internet access from age seven up and see what sort of wild corners you end up on.

He knew Fujiwara-sensei is a bigot and a douchebag, but wow he’s really into the red pill territory now, isn’t he? Everything twists in his stomach.

Izuku doesn’t want to die.

And then the lights cut out in Fujiwara-sensei’s house.

Shouta takes a deep breath. The power cut out just as he planned it to, throwing Fujiwara off his game. Thank you, timed devices.

He very gently, almost featherlight, walks up behind Fujiwara.

And throws out his capture weapon to begin the fight.

Aikkun’s here and attacking Fujiwara-sensei, like he’s some kind of pro hero. Izuku is deeply impressed and slightly worried for his friend’s sanity.

But it’s what he needs, a distraction, to get these ropes off.

Shouta curses under his breath.

“What’s a little boy like you playing hero?” Fujiwara mocks.

He can feel the adrenaline surging through him. There’s a pain in Shouta’s bones, a phantom ache that he remembers from growth spurts a decade ago.

He’s about to undergo one hell of a one against Fujiwara.

He dodges an attack.

“Because I am a hero, dipshit,” he says.

Izuku watches as Aikkun dances away from Fujiwara-sensei. His friend is like a dancer: quick and light on his fight. There’s a fierceness in his fighting, a level of professionalism that looks out of place on a fourteen-year-old.

Like there’s being a black belt at a young age and having a fighting style that is almost too professional.

Distracted from his escape to freedom, Izuku leans closer, watching the fight. He ignores the pain in his wrist from the rope burn he gave himself while trying to cut his bindings free.

Again, it was possible that Aikkun was one of those kids who got a black belt at like twelve or something. But no…

No.

Izuku knows how heroes fight. He knows how it differs from those who practice their respective martial arts. The difference between fighters in the ring vs an actual life or death, Izuku knows what it looks like.

Izuku watches his friend fight in slightly too baggy clothes. It’s a deliberate choice on Aikkun’s end. It has to be.

It would explain why the clothes were so baggy. In their day-to-day wear, Aikkun’s clothes did run on the baggy side, but…it’s bothering Izuku. It feels like the safe thing that’ll bother him in this situation until he can escape.

So why…

Izuku moves his hands up and down, resuming freeing himself of his bindings.

And then, Izuku sees it.

Yellow goggles are around Aikkun’s neck.

As if his mind was waiting for the last piece of a puzzle, even with a head injury, Izuku feels everything starting to click together in his head.

Yellow goggles.

Black baggy clothes as if waiting for an expanding body.

A gray scarf around his neck.

...

Nullify.

Nullify.

Nullify can be another word for…

Erase.  

As the revelation washes over Izuku in all its terrible and almost conspiratorial glory, Aikkun suddenly stumbles. In the sliver of light from the outside street lamp, Izuku sees his friend’s face contort in sudden pain.

He notices the chin-length hair on Aikkun’s head growing.

His arm growing.

Eraserhead.

Aikkun is Eraserhead.

Oh, this compartmentalizing thing is getting harder by the minute because Izuku wants to sit down and analyze these very weird feelings in his chest. But right now, it’s clear that Aikkun-Eraserhead is under some kind of quirk and something about the timing or the situation is forcing him to grow.

Aikkun-Eraserhead-whatever needs a minute to grow?

Izuku ignores the new churning in his gut that did not have to do with his mild head injury. Aikkun is Eraserhead. Izuku will deal with that as soon as Fujiwara-sensei is dealt with.

At the moment of his decision, Izuku feels the ropes give, allowing him to free his hands.

Finally.

Fujiwara-sensei’s quirk (Strength on the Move) was a strength enhancement that allowed him to grow strong so long as he kept moving. He needed to keep his concentration on moving while his quirk was active.

So, Izuku needed to disrupt that concentration.

He looks down at the familiar All Might yellow of his preferred backpack. He just needs to buy Aikkun-Eraserhead some more time to recover from this quirk rebound or whatever. He just needs a second. Izuku could see in that sliver of light that he was growing quickly.

Izuku can get him that second.

Fujiwara-sensei moves forward toward his friend. Aikkun-Eraserhead has to be his friend. Izuku has to believe that the friendship is real.

He has to believe it.

Izuku moves.

He grabs his backpack and with a wild, desperate surge of strength that surprises him, he hurls at Fujiwara-sensei’s stupid head. The bag strikes true, making a satisfying ‘thud’ noise against the man’s skull.

More importantly, it breaks his concentration on maintaining his quirk.

Of course, it also puts the man’s ire on Izuku.

Which is not great.

“You quirkless little waste of air,” Fujiwara-sensei growls. “I’m going to kill you.”

Izuku does not have an escape plan as he’s still in the man’s junk room.

He backs up against the wall, closing his eyes as he hears Fujiwara-sensei approach.

And…

“No,” a deep voice says calmly. “No, you’re not.”

Izuku opens his eyes.

The long gray fabric of the capture weapon emerges from the darkness behind Fujiwara-sensei. It wraps around the man’s head and face, pulling him back.

Stepping into the moonlight shining through the window of the junk room is a strange yet familiar figure: eyes glowing bright and his inky black hair floating in some sort of parody of a halo.

Aikkun.

Eraserhead.

“Wh-what?” Fujiwara-sensei begins, but he’s cut off by violently being yanked back.

“Do not,” Eraserhead’s voice was a step above a growl, “lay a single, filthy finger on my friend.”

Izuku has had fantasies about this. Not with Eraserhead, but daydreams about a pro hero coming to save him and say he was important to them. That Izuku mattered to someone whose job is to protect. That someone wanted to help him against those who hurt him.

The fight ends almost laughably quickly after that.

Izuku sits on a bench with a shock blanket around his shoulders.

The lights from the police cars bathe the neighborhood in an almost eerie glow. He’s fine. No weirdness in his pupils, according to the paramedics. Izuku didn’t want to go with them. He wanted to go to the hospital where his Mom works because he knew some people there would at least pretend to treat him the same as everyone else.

Aikkun-Eraserhead had loomed over the paramedic who treated Izuku until it was clear to them both that the medic wasn’t going to mistreat Izuku due to his quirklessness. Plus, Izuku just really wants to see his mom before going to the hospital for a CT scan.

He’s been kidnapped. He’s allowed to want his mother.

Aikkun-Eraserhead then went over to a plain-faced detective and Nedzu himself. They’ve been talking for a long time and Izuku still needs to give a preliminary statement.

He did get an excellent view of seeing Fujiwara-sensei in the back of a squad car. Izuku is allowed a bit of vindictive pleasure, quietly and to himself, at the man’s comeuppance.

Now that he was free and safe, Izuku’s anxiety had risen like a multi-headed Hydra. Not over the kidnapping because that would make sense in the moment. No, the monster in his head and heart picked the more vulnerable thing in Izuku’s chest.

Friendship.

Aikkun’s friendship specifically.

Because it had to be some sort of undercover op, obviously. So was any of it real? Did Eraserhead really think Izuku could be a hero? Did he mean anything that Aikkun said to him? Did he care or was he just using Izuku?

Was any of it real?

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Eraserhead says. His goggles rest on his head like a headband, revealing tired black eyes.

But they were eyes that Izuku recognized, even in the face of an adult.

Aikkun’s eyes.

Something in Izuku unclenches at that.

“I don’t think your quirk is telepathy.”

Eraserhead looks at the empty spot next to Izuku but doesn’t sit.

“You can sit, Ai-um…”

“You can still call me Aikkun,” the man allows. “Anything else coming out of your mouth will sound strange at this point, Midoriya.”

“Izuku,” he insists. “If our friendship is real, then it’s Izuku.”

“Izuku then,” the man sits down next to him. Izuku feels his heart warm at that, in the knowledge that Aikkun still sees him as a friend. “How are you holding up?”

“Pretty good. I have a shock blanket and everything,” he tucks his knees up to his chest. “I hope my mom gets here soon.”

“They’re bringing her right over,” Aikkun promises. “And then you get an all-expenses paid trip to the hospital.”

Izuku snorts at the droll and dry tone, also familiar. “So you were investigating…”

“Aldera, Akatani had some concerns about the principal and was worried about you.”

“Mikuchan,” Izuku murmurs. “He’s a good friend.”

“He has all of UA’s Support Course ready to wage war for him apparently.”

“That sounds nice. And me?”

“You deserve to feel safe in school,” Aikkun says simply. “And then I got to know you and would have done it anyway. We’re friends. And I want to see you become the first quirkless hero.”

That warm glow had settled in Izuku’s chest at that. It burst into an inferno.

Aikkun still believes in him.

A pro hero, his friend, still believes in him!

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nudges Izuku with his arm. “You’re going to be amazing and give me gray hairs before I’m thirty-five. But mainly it’s the amazing part I’m looking forward to.”

Izuku smiles at that and leans against the arm.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “Me too.”

They sit in silence for a long moment.

“Hey Aikkun?”

“Hmmm?”

“Let’s be heroes together,” he murmurs.

Aikkun’s breath makes a funny hitching noise at that.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Let’s be heroes. Together.”

Chapter Text

Yagi Toshinori settles himself down into a seat in the viewing area for teachers and others watching the entrance exams. He feels, well, extremely out of his depth is a good word for it. Nedzu, however, thinks that the best bet for him finding a successor would be with a young hero in training who is still young enough to have a sudden and rare “Quirk Awakening”.

He supposes that it will be fine. The other Heroics teachers are set to help him with everything, but no one has really stood out to him yet. Though they do not know of One For All, just that All Might was looking for a protégé. Or that he was taking an interest in passing on his knowledge to the next generation of heroes.

Passing on One For All, it needs to be someone…

Well, he’s not sure. It’s like there’s a voice inside of him, one that sounds like Nana’s, saying that he’ll know when he sees them. He just hasn’t seen them yet.

Toshinori is so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice that Kayama and Kan, as they insisted upon introductions, took seats near him. Thankfully, he doesn’t startle so badly that he coughs up blood.

“Interesting new batch of kids this year,” Kayama purrs next to him. “And we have thirty-five seats to fill.”

Toshinori blinks, “I thought that there were only four recommendation spots. Wouldn’t it be thirty-six?”

“Normally,” Kan agrees. “But one of the teachers invoked a third entrance option. It’s a secret one so we don’t get harassed by prospective students, but it gets a kid into the Hero Course on a teacher’s recommendation. Nedzu-san would rather us not leave to focus on training an apprentice.”

Ah, well, that does make sense. Such tactics screamed of Nedzu’s practicality. The chimera was often loathed to part with teachers after he spent so long getting them to his exacting standards.

“In fact, I think the little ball of sunshine will be tagging along with his grumpy shadow,” Kayama says brightly. “I think the principal wants to see how his analysis does on the fly.”

As if on cue, the door opens.

“I’m telling you, Izuku,” grumbles Aizawa, slouching in. “I’m fine. I don’t need you to mother me.”

“It’s not mothering. Hizashi-san says you need to eat more solid food and not your nutritional jelly packets, Aikkun,” a teenage boy dressed in the uniform for Somei Private Academy says. He has his arms crossed with two furoshiki-wrapped bentos in each hand. Also, apparently quite brazen to calling Eraserhead by a cutesy nickname, though Kan and Kayama do not react to it. “Besides, Mom made it. Are you really going to say no to my mother’s cooking?”

The pair stare at each other. Aizawa’s eyes narrow into a glare that makes even Toshinori a bit nervous, feeling like a schoolboy in major trouble. The freckled boy with curly green hair merely raises an eyebrow, unphased and perhaps the slightest bit amused.

Eventually, Aizawa sighs.

“You know you don’t need to be so formal with Hizashi, right? He’d love a nickname from you.”

“It’s a work in progress,” the boy chirps. “Now take the food, Aikkun, and say thank you to my mother.”

The dark-haired man takes the wrapped bento, “Thank you to your mother.”

The child giggles brightly at that. It’s only then that he addresses the other adults in the room with that winning and warm grin.

“Hello Kayama-sensei, Kan-sensei! Please forgive the intrusion.”

“Oh it’s not a problem at all, Midoriya-kun,” Kayama pinches the boy’s cheek. He takes it with good grace. “It’s always fun watching you harass Eraser into taking better care of himself. This is Yagi Toshinori by the way. He’s…”

“All Might’s assistant,” gasps the boy with wide eyes. He turns to Toshinori and bows deeply. “It’s so nice to meet you, sir!”

Now that? That’s surprising. Most people don’t recognize him when he’s, well, himself.

“You know who I am?”

He thinks he hears Aizawa disguise a cough of fanboy, but Midoriya doesn’t look at the other man. Though there’s an air to the boy that says I am purposefully not letting you bait me right now as he keeps those bright green eyes focused on Toshinori.

“Oh yes! I mean technically you’re one of the most influential quirkless people in Japan! It’s very cool. I’m a big admirer myself,” he gives a bright sunshine grin. “I’ll be joining you on that list. Well hopefully.”

Toshinori connects the dots, “You’re the fifth student with a spot in the hero course.”

Midoriya blushes at that, “Aikkun insisted. I said I could take the tests, but he said they were illogical and dumb.”

“I didn’t call them dumb,” Aizawa replies from where he’s getting settled. He’s looking into the contents of the bento box and seems quite pleased with the selection. The that fact that he’s visibly pleased enough for Toshinori to pick up on it makes him wonder about the caliber of the food.

At that Midoriya looks over his shoulder toward the man, “It was heavily implied. And the fact that Hizashi-san can recite your speech about the inherent bias of the public entrance exam by heart.”

Toshinori did not know what to make of this friendship or mentorship between one of the most terrifying Underground heroes that he’s ever met and a chipper quirkless middle school student. He grabbed onto the one thing that made sense.

“And you’re…quirkless?”

The boy eyes him carefully, “I am. I plan on going into Underground Heroics. Or Twilight! Which usually has people with unusual quirks. I don’t want to go full Underground because I think people knowing there’s a quirkless hero out there is important.”

Toshinori swallows at that. Two animals are at war inside of him. One is the wounded animal that fought All For One and barely survived with the most powerful quirk in the world at his disposal. The other is a little quirkless boy, saddened by the death of his beloved mother, and desperately wanting to be a hero.

In this moment, it’s the little quirkless boy who wins.

“I wish you all the luck in the world, young Midoriya,” Toshinori says sincerely. “Aizawa is one of the best in Underground Heroics, you’re in fine hands.”

Midoriya beams at Toshinori.

And in his heart, he hears a chorus of voices say “he’s next”.

Oh dear.

“Oh! I need to go join Aikkun to watch the exams. It was so nice talking to you, Yagi-san!”

He bows to Toshinori quickly before scurrying over to Aizawa.

Toshinori does try to pay attention to the test, but his gaze keeps drifting toward the quirkless boy, scribbling away and mumbling under his breath.

It’s funny, Izuku thinks, how your life can change so drastically over the course of almost two years. He didn’t really know a lot of details about the court cases, most cases involving any remnants of Destro and his ideology tended to be handled quietly, but Aikkun looked thoroughly satisfied about whatever happened to Fujiwara-san.

Though honestly, Aikkun looked more satisfied at Aldera being shut down with the students being sent to different schools nearby and the villains hiding amongst the staff arrested. The only one who was able to cut a deal was Yama-san, who was always nice to Izuku and had fallen on some hard times which led to some of his more criminal dealings.

Aikkun reintroduced himself properly to Izuku’s mother along with getting her permission to train Izuku as his apprentice. He also introduced Izuku to Present Mic or Hizashi as the other man insisted. He still calls him “Shochan’s emotional support middle schooler”, which he doesn’t mind. Aikkun works very hard as a pro hero but needs more nudges from him and Hizashi-san to look after himself better. And his mom, who has made herself known as one of the more terrifying and competent nurses amongst the Heroics Ward staff at her hospital.

But things had been going very well. Izuku somehow got a scholarship to Somei for his remaining time in middle school. So, he got to be classmates with Toshichan and since the headmaster’s quirkless, no one cared that he was quirkless at all. It was an extremely freeing feeling, and it feels like it will be much the same as UA.

Plus, two of his other classmates Tenya-kun and Momo-chan were going to the Heroics course as well. Maybe they would be in the same class again! That would be so much fun! They both got very flustered when Izuku happily said that, but he wasn’t really sure why.

Toshichan just smirked when Izuku brought it up after school before linking their pinkies together and declaring that he wanted to get milkshakes.

(When Izuku brought it up to Mikuchan later, his friend just got flustered and muttered There has to be something in the water for future UA students and quirkless kids. And then he turned a brighter red when Izuku asked what he meant by that.)

Right before the Entrance Exams started for hero schools, Kacchan even came to apologize: a proper apology for everything. They both went to different middle schools now. But his Mom said that his childhood friend was in therapy and anger management. And Kacchan meant his apology when he came over too. He said he wanted to prove himself worthy of being Izuku’s friend again.

There’s nothing to prove though. At least, not to Izuku, Kacchan just needs to make sure that he doesn’t change back to a bully. That’s the only change he needs. Even if he didn’t see him every day, Izuku still thinks he knows Kacchan better than anyone. So he told his former childhood friend that he hopes that he can prove himself to it.

(All Izuku ever wanted was to be friends with Kacchan again anyway.)

Now he and Aikkun were heading out to get some dinner together, Hizashi-san had an interview for a new producer at the radio station and begged off.

“I’ll see you Sunday, Izuku,” the other man laughed, kissing Aikkun on the cheek. “And I’ll see you at home, grand love of my life. Pick me up a dessert.”

“Good luck with your meeting, Zashi.”

“You alright?” Aikkun grumbles, jostling Izuku out of his thoughts.

“Oh! Yes. I am. Sorry about that. That entrance exam was really impressive, huh?”

“Hmm. We’ll see in a classroom setting. Bakugou has definitely…mellowed at least.”

“If Kacchan ends up in your class, then you have to treat him nicely, Aikkun. Or, well, not nice but like every other student.”

His friend smirks. Izuku rolls his eyes.

“I’m nothing if not fair, Problem Child.”

“I do not cause problems on purpose.”

“No. And if you didn’t have the test results to prove it, then I would think attracting problems is your quirk.”

Izuku sticks his tongue out at that. Aikkun snorts.

“But you did well today. I’m sure Nedzu’s going to be dragging you in for private lessons by the second week.”

That does sound fun. Aikkun and his mom both said no lessons with Nedzu until he was a UA student officially. But he and the principal did play chess and go online. It was fun!

“We’ll still have lessons though, right?”

“Course,” Aikkun nudges his shoulder lightly. “I still got to twist you like a pretzel for yoga.”

Izuku groans, “You were a contortionist in a past life, I swear.”

His friend laughs as they walk down the road.

Shouta always enjoys the first day of school. No one ever believes him, except Hizashi but that’s because his husband knows him better than Shouta knows himself. It would be concerning, but he’s the same with his husband as well.

It comes down to fresh starts and new beginnings. He likes the idea of a clean slate, starting new. Maybe, this time he won’t be expelling all of his class. Like last year’s disappointments.

(Those damn kids thought it was funny to insult quirkless people-like Izuku-amongst other vile things that no hero should think and Shouta saw red.)

But this batch of students was not without potential, he’ll have to gauge more with the Quirk Apprehension Test. At the very least, there is an excellent spread of Rescue Points this year. Between that and Izuku’s detailed notes from watching them fight in videos from the Entrance Exam, the year promises to be an exciting one, if boisterous.

“You going to inchworm down the hallway in your sleeping bag?” Hizashi asks, sipping his thermos of tea to enjoy his final moments of peace before heading to his new 1-C homeroom.

“It’s tradition,” Shouta says. “And it helps with the situational awareness.”

“You also just like being the school’s Cryptid.”

“Obviously.”

Hizashi shakes his head and kisses Shouta’s forehead, “Have fun. Make sure you leave some kids in the class so Izuku has friends, alright?”

Shouta nods and begins inching down the hallway in his sleeping bag.

Izuku was going to definitely open the door to 1-A.

Yep.

Any minute now.

Mikuchan and Aikkun said that UA was different. They promised. And he had a nice time at Somei, he unlearned a lot of what he had to do to survive in the Aldera school system. But his therapist said that he had trauma, and it was the kind that didn’t go away. It just got easier to manage with time.

And there were knowns and unknowns beyond that door, Izuku knows how quickly things can change. There was safety at Somei and he wants to believe in the safety of UA as well. Just…

Well…

“Izuku?”

Izuku jumps and looks down at Aikkun, who is in his sleeping bag. His friend and now teacher looks up at him with tired eyes.

“Ai-Aizawa-sensei, um,” he says nervously. Goodness, that was going to take some getting used to.

“We’re not through the doors yet. You can still call me Aikkun for the moment.”

Izuku nods at that. He twists the spinner ring on his finger. It helps with his anxiety and to not twist his fingers like he does. He crouches down next to his friend, who is sitting up and has unzipped the sleeping bag partially.

Aikkun looks at him patiently, not pushing or forcing Izuku to speak. The words come easily with that familiar and comforting gaze on him.

“I’m a bit…scared? Because it’s just, I know some of my classmates. But I also don’t know a lot of them and I’m really scared that…” He makes a frustrated sound. “I don’t even know why I’m scared. Mikuchan and you say that UA is safe. And I had safe school with Somei, but now I’m…”

“Scared,” Aikkun supplies.

Izuku nods, “Yeah.”

His friend nods seriously, “Sometimes, emotions just aren’t rational or logical. Because they’ve been wounded before and they only know that pain and hesitance for it. But this is your dream. And you have me watching your back. You also have Shinsou, Iida, and Yayorozu. Hell, you’ve even had Bakugou probably. I think it’s going to be good. Because you’re already a brave person for others.”

Aikkun gently pokes his chest.

“Now use some of that bravery for yourself.”

Izuku tears up a bit, wiping his eyes at the sudden welling of tears in them.

“Crybaby,” Aikkun teases lightly.

“Oh, shush you,” he says. “Could…I know you probably have some sadistic horror show of an entrance plan. But could you walk in with me?”

His friend shakes his long black hair in amusement.

“Sure. I can always do my sadistic horror show of an entrance tomorrow. Lull the little darlings into a false sense of security.”

Izuku laughs at that, drying the last of his tears.

But the two of them stand up, Aikkun rolls up his sleeping bag and Izuku grips the straps of his backpack.

Together, they open the door and step in.