Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The grave was a normal one.

The jizo statue marks it as that of a child. The incense was lit, and burning away merrily.

Water had been freshly poured.

But where things become strange are the plants there, of all kinds, in pots so they could grow alongside the grave for eternity.

Baby's breath.

Aloe vera.

Angelica.

Coreopsis.

Black-eyed Susan.

Purple Hyacinth.

Pink carnation.

Red columbine.

Forget-me-not.

Rosemary.

Zinnia.

Whomever had laid this child to rest clearly wished for the passerbys to know what this child was like.

Anxious and full of sorrow, a child who cared for the people around them deeply. A child who sought justice and inspired others to do the same.

A child to be remembered.

The tamaya in the child's old room got the same treatment. Small, unassuming.

It is far more decorated than the grave, however. There are boxes around the kamidana, little plastic ones filled with toys. There are notes from children whose hands still struggle with hiragana. They are notes of thanks, prayer, and condolences to a grieving mother. The child had been dearly beloved in life, and in death.

There was a framed photo on the tamaya. A boy, of thirteen or fourteen years. He was young, and smiled like the sun. His two companions squinted as though blinded by the boy's joy.

His grin scrunched up his freckled nose and his curly green-tinted hair got in his green eyes.

There was only one named inscribed on the tamashiro.

緑谷 出久

Midoriya Izuku

Chapter Text

Shouta doesn't know why he let himself get roped into this.

He was an Underground Hero, for crying out loud. He dealt with petty criminals and drug dealings.

Not Hero Agencies getting vandalised.

He sighed and slowly tensed then relaxed his muscles. He had been crouched in an unassuming corner of No. 2 Hero Endeavour's Agency for a few hours now. A group of criminals-- Shouta internally snorted, yeah right, probably just a group of rowdy young adults --had been vandalising Hero Agencies and HPSC offices for the past month. There was never any signs of a break-in, and the police only had one lead.

They were moving up in the ranks.

It wasn't fool-proof, of course; Wash, Mirko and Best Jeanist had all been spared. And it's not like it was anything all that serious. Most of the time, it was just spray paint and papers thrown everywhere.

Or, at least, it had been until Hawks.

The Nest had seen the worst damage. Files ruined, security cameras destroyed, unsavoury comments about the HSPC carved into the walls.

There had also been stuff on Hawks' personal life painted on the ceiling. Stuff that no one should know, according to the Hero.

So now the police force was on high alert. No longer was this just some vandalism, there was a possible security leak.

And shit had hit the fan once Endeavour realised he was next.

Shouta's head still hurt at the memory of the meeting Naomasa had dragged him to to try convince Endeavour that yes, he did need added security, there was sensitive information in his Agency that they couldn't risk being leaked to the public.

So now Shouta was here, in the dark offices of Endeavour's Agency, instead of at home with his partner on his one day off for months.

He sighed again and adjusted his stance. There were still Heroes present in the building of course, one of whom being the bastard himself, but due to the hour and it being midweek, most employees were at home. Illogical, in Shouta's opinion. To have no dedicated night-shift other than the Heroes on patrol was probably why these things were happening in the first place--

Creeeeeeak.

Shouta stilled, waiting for another sound. He wasn't paranoid, but he wasn't taking any chances. The perpetrators had become more violent, after all.

Speaking of perpetrators...

Someone walked past his hiding place, crouched low with a bad slung over their back. They moved slowly and carefully, footfalls so silent that Shouta wouldn't have noticed them if not for the fact that they walked right past him.

Heading towards Endeavour's office, Shouta noted idly, deciding to stay where he was for now. Better to catch them in the act. Definitely not because of petty vengeance towards Endeavour for ruining his day off.

Definitely not.

Either way, Shouta kept his eyes on them as they crept over to the office, only straightening up when the door opened. Short and gangly, like a teenager in an awkward in-between before their next growth spurt. Huh. Shouta had kind of assumed it was a group of college kids, not a singular teenager.

Well, it was still a crime they were commiting. They'd get a lighter sentence because of their status or just some community service (if Endeavour and the HPSC didn't decide to reign Hell on the kid; Shouta wouldn't be surprised at this point).

Fixing his goggles over his eyes and gripping his capture scarf, Shouta made his way over to the office. He could hear the spray paint already, through the closed door.

Shouta wasn't sure how long he waited outside the office for. Long enough for the spray paint cans to be put away, long enough for an awful screeching scraping noise, long enough for filing cabinets to be opened and closed roughfully. Long enough for glass to be smashed.

That shocked Shouta into moving, the glass sparking a memory. A HPSC office had been set on fire last week, an empty beer bottle that had been found half-melted inside being the likely ignition source. There was no connection between that crime and the vandals, but if this kid had just thrown a Molotov cocktail--!

Shouta burst into the office, kicking the door open. The kid was frozen stiff, arm still out-stretched from throwing what seemed to be a framed certificate of some kind at the far wall. That explained the glass shattering, at least. Naomasa would never let him live it down if Endeavour's office got set on fire on his watch.

Narrowing his eyes all the same, Shouta stared down the kid. They were young, with startling green eyes that were wide with shock, and freckles that stood out against their pale skin. No other defining features were visible due to the dark, non-descript hoodie they wore. Other than their bright red clunky shoes. Did they really not own any other shoes?

"Put down the bag and put your hands where I can see them," Shouta ordered, keeping his tone neutral. No need to lash out yet---

The kid darted for the door.

"Shit-!" He hissed, activating his Quirk and sending his capture weapon out towards the runner.

It met nothing.

They were gone.

The air was still, and the only person in the room was Shouta.

Had he not been fast enough? No, there was no way, he was sure he had erased their Quirk!

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that night, Shouta pulled out his phone and dialed Naomasa's number.

"Things just got a lot more complicated."

Chapter Text

Dabi looked up from the card game they and Magne were playing as a head of green curls appeared in their peripheral.

"Help, kid, she's whooping my ass over here!" They called in lieu of a greeting. Izuku just grinned and trotted over. He wound his way around empty tables to get to the booths at the back.

Kurogiri's place was emptier than usual for the hour (something they were probably very thankful for, with the amount of shit they had to deal with on a regular basis) so it wasn't long before Izuku was scooting in alongside Dabi.

The café by day and bar by night was a neutral ground, of sorts, in Kamino. Anyone was allowed in, no matter if you're a cop, Hero, Villain, or just some college kid who needs caffeine and just stumbled across the place. There were rules, as there always are in neutral spaces, and there were lines that couldn't be crossed here. Rapists and child abusers got the business end of Spinner's stupid sword and human traffickers got a firm handshake from Shigaraki.

It had been Izuku's idea, of course, when they'd first stumbled across the man-child and his guardian. It would bring better business, and would be a good way to scope out potential allies and listen in on Hero stuff. They had both agreed, and so, Tsukamu was born. (Izuku thought it was funny, given both Shiggy and Kurogiri's Quirks, and the name stuck)

It didn't look like much from the outside. There was a neon sign that never quite lit up properly and the opening and closing hours were on a board on the door, but that was it. It didn't really matter, though. The real important stuff was inside.

There were booths at the back, lining the walls, for those who wanted privacy. Tables with varying numbers of chairs were spread out in the middle of the room to allow for groups. The main attraction was the bar. Kurogiri's pride and joy, there were stools sitting at the pristine black counter-top, and a display case of desserts behind seperated the little kitchenette from the rest of the room. It used to house all of Kurogiri's old wine bottles, but Izuku had taken one look at them and decided that they'd be perfect candle holders. So now they were dotted around the room, wax slightly melted and dripping down the sides of the bottles, candles never seeming to melt completely, or ever go out. Dabi had to admit it gave the place a certain vibe.

(They didn't think about the room in the back.

They didn't think about the television that sat there.

They didn't think about the red light turning on to indict the camera turning on as well.

They didn't think about the man who spoke through it.

They didn't think about how Tomura's scratching always got worse after talking to him.

They didn't think about how Kurogiri was at his beck and call.

They didn't think about how the both of them were puppets on the man's strings.)

Dabi liked it, and was glad that they and Izuku finally had a place to relax and just be, without having to worry about getting shanked. (Most of the time. You never knew with Twice and Himiko)

They didn't look up when they heard the door open, instead focusing on the cards that Izuku was pointing at.

They only looked up when they saw Magne and Izuku go still, then stiffened when they saw who was approaching the bar.

Dabi knew who Detective Tsukauchi was. Everyone who frequented Tsukamu did. With a Quirk like his, how could the criminal underworld not know who he was?

Unfortunately, that also meant that he would know who they were. Magne, an renowned cage-fighter who worked close with drug dealers of all kinds. Dabi, an arsonist who made a name for themself by burning down Yakuza headquarters. Izuku, a vandal who trashed corrupt Hero Agencies.

Izuku, whose vandalisms Tsukauchi was currently looking until.

Oh fuck.

Chapter Text

The bar was one Naomasa was familiar with. Tsukamu. A neutral ground in Kamino Ward. Outside the scope of his precinct, but worth it for the coffee.

He's usually here earlier in the day, for his morning dose of caffeine. But after that shit-show last night at Endeavor's Agency, he had been working overtime and hadn't slept in maybe 36 hours, so he thinks he can be forgiven for indulging. Because of how early he typically came in, he had never seen anyone besides the bartender Kurogiri. It made sense, this was a bar for criminals more so than a coffee place for a tired Detective, so it would be strange to see someone.

What was even weirder than coming this late was actually being there with other customers.

There were three down in the back, two adults and a teenager. Probably a bit late who someone their age, especially in a bar, but he wasn't going to interrupt their card game, either way. A cop coming over to tell off a couple of criminals for being out past their bedtime? No way. He wasn't paid enough for that.

With a sigh, he sat at his usual spot at the bar. He knew it was his because no matter how much they scrubbed, the bartender couldn't remove the coffee stains from that time he nearly passed out. "Good evening, Detective." Ah, his saving grace. Kurogiri nodded in his direction in greeting then turned towards the coffee machine. "Your usual, I assume?" "You're a life saver, Kurogiri." Naomasa groaned, setting his forehead onto the cool countertop. "A tough case?" "That even a question?" Naomasa laughed dryly. "I'm working a case for Endeavor, of all fuckheads."

Now, even in a neutral spot, Naomasa wouldn't risk saying something like that. He had a reputation to uphold. But, again, 36 hours dealing with that sorry excuse of a Pro. He didn't even care about his lack of a filter.

Following several muffled snorts from the party down in the back, Kurogiri set Naomasa's elixir of life in front of him. "How much are you allowed to tell me?" They asked. "If you want to bounce ideas?" "It'll be public soon anyways," Naomasa sat up and stretched his arms above his head before making a grab at the mug. "I don't want to hear the specifics of this case circulating, though, you hear me?" Kurogiri's eyes crinkled into a smile. "Of course, Detective."

Kurogiri watched fondly as the detective gesticulated wildly and cursed out the Pro Heroes assigned to the vandalism case he was forced to work on. "Eraserhead and Sansa-san are the only bitches in the precinct that I respect," he grumbled, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Sansa-san actually went to go find the records I was looking for and Eraserhead actually knows what he's fucking doing." "The rest of the police force is proving to be an obstacle?" Kurogiri implored, well aware that Izuku was listening attentively. Probably taking notes as well.

"Oh, you have no idea. As soon as we identified the face the perpetrator was using, the rest of the officers blew it over." "The face they were using?" "Eraserhead thinks that they have an illusion Quirk, because they looked like a deceased teenager. A Quirkless thirteen year old. Sansa-san was working on their case before it went cold due to a lack of evidence." Tsukauchi grumbled, taking a sip from his coffee. It was probably cold by now. Tsukauchi never seemed to care, though. He always insisted on finishing it before getting another one. "Because of that, all of a sudden it's just my issue to deal with while the Heroes hunt down the vandal. It's stupid! No one is taking it as seriously as they should. That cold case was never publicised, no one should know that kid's face!" He hissed, firmly setting down his mug. Kurogiri tilted their head in confusion. Izuku was part of a cold case? They hadn't known that. Was he legally dead like Dabi, then? That would explain quite a few things.

But... Izuku had a Quirk.

And that would mean-

Tsukauchi's phone went off, startling them both out of their musings. "It's Eraser, with a message from his partners. Telling me off for not sleeping." He explained with a thin smile. "They're probably right, I should go." He stood up from the stool, handing his mug back to Kurogiri. "Usual time tomorrow?"

"I would hope not," Kurogiri joked quietly. "Not after how much coffee you drank tonight."

Tsukauchi snorted a laugh, pulling his coat back on. "Fair point. Night, Kurogiri."

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Dabi and Magne whistled at him from the back while Izuku darted up to the bar. "I didn't hear what he said at the end!" He whined, propping his chin up on the counter. "What did he tell you about my case?"

"Which one?" Izuku tipped his head back and groaned. "The vandalism one, duh!" "They haven't a clue." Kurogiri lied.

They weren't entirely sure why they didn't tell him. Maybe it was because he was supposed to be Quirkless. Maybe it was because they knew what Sensei did with cold cases.

Either way, it convined the teen, who trotted right back to the card game.

Chapter Text

Chisaki Kai never knew what to make of the Midoriya boy.

They'd met while the old boss still ran the Shei Hassaikai, before his health issues made him retire. Midoriya hadn't even been a teenager yet, a short thing with far too much hair. He had gotten separated from his mother in the unfamiliar area that just so happened to be his family's territory. When Kai had found him, he had been rambling Tabe's head off about his Quirk, about it's effects on his body and possible uses for it.

Now, Kai wasn't one to reminisce often. So why was he doing it now?

Well, Midoriya Izuku was currently sitting cross-legged on his desk.

"Did you hear about my latest!?" Midoriya exclaimed, rocking back and forth with an energy Kai hadn't seen in him outside of his interactions with Eri. "The disaster at Endeavor's Agency?" Kai clarified, taking his seat at the desk and maneuvering around the teenager. "Yes!" Midoriya did a strange little wiggle. "We found so much! Do you want me to send it to you?" "If you wouldn't mind. There are police sniffing around again, it would be best to have something of a back up." "What? Again? But you've gone legit!" "The Yakuza, while not respected, still have a reputation."

The Yakuza taking an investment in legitimate enterprise was Midoriya's idea, surprising no one. To create a reputation based on respect, according to the teen, would bring them far more benefits than a reputation built on fear. And he had been right, as he usually was. The community trusted them, business was booming, and the public opinion of the Shei Hassaikai had never been so good. Midoriya had insisted on Kai submitting his research about the differences between Quirked and Quirkless bodies and how medications interact with them to create a barrier between him and the police investigating Yakuza, to make so that the police trying to do anything against the Shei Hassaikai would create public outcry. Midoriya's worry about police suspicion was warranted, especially during this project.

Midoriya scrunched up his face, dragging his hands down his face. "Giri's friend, the lie detector cop, is investigating my case now. We have to be so much more careful with our operations." He groaned, flopping across Kai's desk. Kai ignored his teenage dramatics, knocking his shoes away. "We will make do, child. Have patience. Worrying now will only damn our months of planning." "You have a point." "Of course I do."

A knock at the door had them both sitting up and paying attention.

"Papa!" Eri exclaimed, swinging the door open. "Izu-nii!"

"Eri-berry!" Midoriya exclaimed, just as delighted. Jumping down from the desk, Midoriya darted over to his daughter to pick her up and swing her around in a hug. They had grown close quickly, and Midoriya's assistance with Eri's Quirk had made Kai put a pin in Project Purification. Midoriya's ideas and suggestions had been integral to the reemergence of the Shei Hassaikai, it would be stupid to seperate them now, even more so now with the police and the HPSC closing in.

There was danger on the horizon.

Kai would simply have to bide his time.

For both the Yakuza's sake, and his daughter's.

Chapter Text

Kubo Nobutoshi is a simple man.

He loves his boyfriend. He loves their partner. He loves Hero work. He enjoys teaching.

Specifically, he enjoyed teaching Midoriya Izuku.

Nobutoshi is reminded of that fact when he wakes up, face damp with tears, on the anniversary of the boy's disappearance.

With a sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. There was no way he was going to be going back to sleep. Making sure not to wake up Hizashi - who had forgotten to take out his hearing aids before going to bed again - he made his way into the hall, padding his way to the kitchen. Once there, he made himself some coffee, checked the time and proceeded to make Shouta some as well. He'd be home soon from patrol, so Nobutoshi figured he'd have some ready for him.

He leaned against the counter, coffee in hand, listening to the rain. In the silence of the apartment, his thoughts wandered.

He remembered the day he met Midoriya Izuku like it was yesterday. He came to the man's Hero Agency to use the shooting range with his mother and two friends. Midoriya Inko had booked the three of them two hours to learn gun safety and how to shoot at their insistence that their Quirks were unsuited for Hero Work so it would be good to learn for the future. Nobutoshi, who had been in the back office, agreed and volunteered to be the one to teach them.

They didn't recognise him outside of his Hero costume (which was by design; he wanted some semblance of privacy, dammit!) and it was a productive afternoon. It soon became routine, the three teenagers coming in every week after school to train with him. He'd learnt their names - Toga Himiko, Shinsou Hitoshi, and Midoriya Izuku - their Quirks - Transform, Brainwashing, and Quirkless - and their reasonings for wanting to become Heroes. Nobutoshi wasn't shamed to admit that he had grown fond of the scamps, and looked forward to their visits. But, two years ago, they hadn't showed. Nobutoshi had waited, operating under the assumption that they'd just been held up by traffic or a Villain fight (Midoriya loved to watch those). But they didn't. The next day, he'd gotten a phone call from Midoriya Inko. Her son never made it to school that morning.

Midoriya Izuku had been declared dead two weeks later.

Nobutoshi sighed shakily, setting his mug down on the counter beside him. There had only been seven people at the kokubetsu-shiki. Midoriya's mother, the Bakugos - who were family friends, Shinsou and his own mother, and Nobutoshi himself. The urn was empty. There was no body to cremate. Just the memories of a teenage boy who disappeared without a trace. His mother had had to grieve alone during the Ososhiki, could not hold a proper Kotsuage or Bunkotsu. She was a single mother, with no siblings or parents of her own. She'd had to sit in an empty house, surrounded by the remnants of her son.

He should visit the graveyard at some point. Pay his respects.

He was shook from his thoughts by the door to the apartment opening. Shouta shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing tiredly at his face. "How was patrol?" Nobutoshi asked, handing Shouta the still warm coffee. Shouta grunted and gulped down his coffee, reaching into his pockets for his eyedrops. "New case," he replied hoarsely.

"So close to the start of the school year?" It was near the end of March.

Shouta nodded with a low hum, already done his first mug. Nobutoshi went to get him a towel to dry himself off with as Shouta began the process of making himself another batch of coffee. As Shouta rubbed at his stringy black hair, Nobutoshi sipped on his now lukewarm drink. "Why are you awake so early?" Shouta questioned over the rim of his mug, raising a brow. "It's the anniversary." He didn't need to explain any more. He'd never exactly told them about what happened to put him in such a depressive slump, but Shouta and Hizashi understood, and Nobutoshi allowed them the same privilege on Shirakumo's anniversary.

"Ah. Makes the case Tsukauchi gave me worse."

"What is it?"

Shouta sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That vandal defacing Hero Agencies and Commission offices? They've got a weird Quirk. Tsukauchi thinks they are using other people's faces for illusions, or something. The one I saw them use is one of a missing child, presumed dead, and Tsukauchi and Tamakawa-san are tearing everyone in the precinct a new one for immediately dropping it until now." "It was a cold case?" Nobutoshi raised an eyebrow, taking the offered file from Shouta. As he flicked through, Shouta continued explaining. "Yup. Quirkless teenager, so it was thrown away before anyone could properly search--"

Nobutoshi's hands went limp, dropping both the file and the mug.

Shouta grabbed his shoulders as he trembled uncontrolably. "Shit, Nobu, are you okay?!"

The picture of a smiling Midoriya Izuku stared up at him from the floor, coffee seeping into the paper and staining the photograph brown.

Chapter Text

Shinsou Hitoshi didn't like leaving the house anymore.

It was, in his mind, a completely rational fear. Both of his best friends went missing on the same day while leaving school. Himiko had an undesirable Quirk, and Izuku was Quirkless. Hitoshi himself had a Villainous Quirk. They all made for prime targets. Hitoshi couldn't end up another number in the growing statistics. He couldn't. Someone had to stay, to make sure people remembered them.

He locked himself away in his room after the funeral that Inko-san had held for Izuku. (Himiko's parents didn't bother. No one probably even knew that the girl was missing, they had just told everyone who'd asked that she was staying with relatives. Hitoshi didn't understand why they all believed it.) Safe from the people who took his friends away. Who wouldn't hesitate to kill them, or worse.

His grades declined. He stopped eating. He didn't, couldn't sleep.

It took an intervention from his mother for things to even slightly improve.

Online schooling, video calls with a therapist. Anything to stop him from becoming even more of a train-wreck. His mother didn't care if he became a hermit. Only that he made sure he was healthy and not jeopardizing his future. The future that Izuku and Himiko would have killed him for putting in harm's way. They would have told him that at least one of them had to become a Hero. It would have been their last wish.

So on the anniversary of their disappearance, Hitoshi took a deep breath and stepped into the living room. The tips of his hair brushed against the lampshade of the bulb hanging in the center of the room. He didn't remember it doing that before. He hadn't realised how much he'd grown over the past two years. No wonder his jeans hung above his ankles.

His mother must have been thinking the same, because she flashed him a bittersweet smile from her place on the couch, files spread out around her. Probably Inko-san's finances; she and Ume had grown close after Inko-san broke down over the phone about how Izuku's father had dropped all contact after his disappearance, and had stopped sending over money. The funeral had come from the Shinsou's and Bakugou's pockets.

"Can we go to that ice cream place?" Hitoshi asked hoarsely. He didn't have class or therapy today, and didn't plan on recording an episode any time soon, so he hadn't drank all that much yet. He probably should. "It's important to stay hydrated, Hitoshi-kun!" Ume blinked in surprise, setting down her pen. "The one you used to go to with..?" He nodded. "Yeah. That one." "What's the occasion?" He winced, and his mother paled at the realisation. "Oh honey," she whispered in horror, standing up quickly to hug him.

His chin rested on the top of her head as she wrapped her arms around him tightly. He'd been shorter than his mother the last time they'd been in this room.

Hitoshi trembled as his mother told him that she'd get her purse.

Soriano-san's parlor was a small hole in the wall ice cream place that the trio had first found while running from bullies from Izuku's school. They'd ducked down a cramped side-street, and darted through the first door they'd seen.

Soriano-san was a Filipino man well into his seventies with a Quirk that let him preserve food, and a heart of gold. So when he saw three bed-raggled teenagers run into the shop like a pack of wild dogs were after them, he just gestured them to hide behind the counter. Once their pursuers had lost their trail, he offered them a free scoop of their choice. They came every week after that.

Hitoshi hadn't been since he got the news that Izuku never made it home.

The bell above the door jingled, and Hitoshi had to bite back tears as a familiar sense of comfort and safety washed over him. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed this. It was worth venturing out into public, even though it meant dealing with the trains and crowds. Soriano-san smiled at him from across the counter, crows feet accentuating the expression and his age. "Shinsou-kun, it is good to see you again." He rumbled, reaching over the counter to gently pass a hand over his head in a light brush of his hair. He had to reach up to do so, and Hitoshi was once again hit by how much had changed in the last two years. At least this was still the same. Hitoshi likely would have shattered right then and there if it hadn't been.

After ordering, he led his mother over to their usual spot in the corner; a little booth table. Izuku used to spread his notebooks across it while waiting for their order, and Himiko used to squeal whenever she narrowly avoided getting ice cream on her embroidery. Hitoshi used to put on a podcast and close his eyes for a little while, content and safe. The irony. He settled back into the plush cushions as he listened to the humming of the freezers, the ticking of the clock on the wall across the room, Soriano-san's shoes shuffling on the tiled floor. The air was fresh and clean, easy to breathe. It felt safe, in a way every place that wasn't his room hadn't in so long.

Ume looked up when the bell above the door rang and choked on a gasp, but Hitoshi didn't look up. It was none of his business who came into the parlor, and he really didn't feel like dealing with anyone today. His mother tugged on his sleeve. He sighed heavily but decided to go along with his mother's wishes. She'd done so much for him but he was already walking on eggshells-

A blonde girl dressed in a more low-key shironuri style rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet in front of the counter. Her hair was freshly washed and pulled back into twin space buns. From where he was sitting, Hitoshi could see the heart clips pinning her bangs to the side of her face.

The clips that Hitoshi bought for her on her birthday, when she'd come out as genderfluid to him and Izuku.

She turned her head and Hitoshi made eye contact with Toga Himiko for the first time in two years.

"Himiko-chan?"

Himiko's heart raced like a little hummingbird's.

Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter

She'd promised Big Sis Magne that she wouldn't get into trouble today. It was a sad day for her and Izuku, so they needed nice things to make it a happy day! She dressed up all pretty, like those dolls she used to stare at longingly from the window before her parents dragged her away, and went out to get ice cream from the place she and Izuku used to. Before.

She hadn't expected to see Hitoshi, taller than when they'd last hung out, and far too skinny. Hitoshi, her best friend. Hitoshi, who bandaged her bruises. Hitoshi, who recognised her.

She was going to be in so much trouble when she got home.

Hitoshi jumped up out of his seat as Himiko took off running out the door.

"Himiko-chan!" he called out desperately, watching her turn a corner with surprising speed for someone in flats. He ran out after her, ignoring his mother's yelling. He had the location on his phone turned on. It would be fine. He wouldn't be taken. But he couldn't lose Himiko, not again.

He skidded to a stop at the end of the alleyway, where Himiko was frantically making a phone call. Her make-up was smeared by her tears. She was crying?

"Himiko-chan, please!" he begged, his voice cracking on 'please'. "I can't risk losing you again, Himiko-chan! Where were you, what's wrong?" Himiko hiccuped a little, but managed to speak through her tears. "I-I can't!" she wailed. "He only just let me and Izu-kun out, he'll hurt you too, no one can know!" "No one can know what? Who's hurting you and Izuku-kun?" Hitoshi pleaded, slowly stepping forwards, intent on comforting his best friend. Who'd, apparently, only recently gotten permission to leave where ever she'd been kept. A horrifying thought that Hitoshi quickly shoved to the back of his mind for later.

Himiko shook her head, frantic and desperate. "No, no, he's already hurting Shiggy and Giri, I won't let him get to you to! He'll make you like- like-"

What the mysterious 'he' would turn him into, Hitoshi would never know, because a swirling vortex of purple formed behind her and Himiko didn't hesitate jumping in.

Hitoshi was left in an empty alleyway with tears dripping down his face.

He hadn't even thought to use his Quirk. Some Hero he'd make.

Chapter Text

Izuku hugs Mon-chan from his place under the counter behind the bar. Kurogiri ignores them both, because while they're not supposed to be there, they're not causing problems and Tenko would be sad if anything happened to Mon-chan.

Mon-chan usually wasn't allowed in the bar in case Sensei found out, but today is a sad day and Dabi said Izuku needed cheering up.

Izuku buries his face in Mon-chan's fur and turns up the volume on his headphones. Hitoshi-kun's voice in the podcast distracts him from the painful humming under his skin. A Quirk. A power not his own. A soul fit to bursting in a skin it didn't fit.

Izuku doesn't know everything about the Quirk Sensei gave him yet. He hasn't been allowed a notebook to analyze it yet. Sensei takes all of his notebooks to give to the Doctor. Izuku doesn't like the Doctor. His lab is loud with the humming of electricity and the screaming of Quirks that don't belong.

The only Nomu Izuku can stand are Dabi and Kurogiri.

Izuku thinks that it's because Kurogiri is older, and the souls have given up screaming. They know that nothing can be done to save them anymore. He isn't sure why it's easy to be around Dabi. Their Quirk is strong, too big for their body, but unlike Izuku Dabi was born with it. Sometimes, when listening to it, Izuku hears something quiet, not the raging fire that Endeavour baptised the eldest Todoroki child with. Something soothing. Like a mother whispering to her child in the dead of night.

Izuku will tell Dabi about the tendrils of ice wrapped around their soul soon, once he's convinced them that Endeavour's suffering is not the only reason for their continued existence.

He doesn't have the heart to tell what's left of Shimura Tenko that the itch he feels is the itch of a soul torn in two, messily sewn to a wailing Quirk that is slowly destroying its host. He is Shigaraki Tomura now, even if there is some of Tenko left (made evident by Mon-chan's presence, however ghostly), and it would do Izuku well to remember that.

Izuku wishes he could have heard Quirks like this before, without the ache of two souls in one body to contend with.

Kacchan's soul, his Quirk, like fireworks across his mind and skin. He only heard it once since Sensei gifted him this ability. That was enough for Izuku.

Himiko's essence, ever-changing and ever-hungry. His sister is starving, and he does all that he can to make the hunger ebb away.

Eri's blinding energy, like a live wire. It crackles in the air and burns his skin, and Izuku never feels more alive than when he's in her presence.

Kubo-san's steady power, strong with years of experience and training. Izuku knows that it will continue to lead him true.

Chisaki-san's tumultuous presence, a force if nature he keeps restrained under his skin with an air of put-togetherness and politeness. It amazes Izuku.

His mother's grief, a constant pull. He feels a tug whenever he sees her, and thinks that it might be her soul calling out to his. He whispers sorry everytime he has to leave.

Hitoshi-kun's, a siren song luring him in from imaginable distance. Even now, with his voice in his ears, Izuku wants to know how Hitoshi-kun's Quirk sounds. He thinks it would be soothing, like how everything felt like it was underwater when under its influence.

Mon-chan licks Izuku's chin, and he smiles despite himself. Himiko will be back soon, and then they can all curl up in Tomura's room and watch a movie, away from Sensei's prying eyes.

Because Izuku knows why he and Tomura act the way they do. Childish. Immature. Moodswings. Bouts of mania. It's Sensei's way of keeping them on a leash.

Izuku won't let him. Tomura's been getting better, and Kurogiri is remembering more every day. Izuku has grown, Big Sis Magne keeping track of everyone's height with pencil lines on the doorframe. Sensei doesn't have nearly as much power over Izuku as he thinks.

Izuku has plans. All for One will be dealt with soon enough.

Chapter Text

Himiko's face is wet, her make-up is ruined, and her heart is torn in two.

Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter

She and Izuku came to an agreement after his first escape that they would behave from now on, once Dabi had settled in and Izuku had everyone fooled into thinking he wasn't connected to Sensei. Play Sensei's games so they had more freedom. Play along so the people they loved would be safe. People like Inko-san, Hitoshi-kun, Ume-san, Kubo-san, Soriano-san, and that pretty girl in the park that shares her mochi with Himiko. She hasn't told Izuku about her yet. She probably should.

Himiko's heart flutters in her chest like a bird with broken wings as she stumbles into the bar and is pulled into a close hug by Kurogiri. Their mist is cold like morning dew.

Izuku pocks his head out from under the bar, and Himiko's breath hiccups in her chest. Bursting into tears again, she clutches the little keychain in her pocket (a gift from Ochaco-chan; she said it was pretty-like-Himiko-chan's-eyes) to feel the press of it in her palm. Twice always says that it's good to ground yourself when crying. Himiko doesn't feel very grounded. She feels like she's sinking, drowning--

There's a hand in her's. The lighting of the room changes, and suddenly there's something warm and furry rubbing against her legs.

Himiko blinks tears from her eyes, looks up from where Mon-chan is whining at her feet, and whispers to Izuku: "Hitoshi-kun knows."

The world shatters around them.

Nobutoshi viciously dragged a hand through his locs, and tugged on one venomously. His head throbbed with an oncoming migraine, but he didn't have the energy to care. Not when he's so close.

Tsukauchi set his mug down on the edge of the papers, avoiding anything important, and settled into the chair opposite. Nobutoshi didn't really know the detective; he wasn't one for investigative cases. He leads strike teams, and so didn't have much involvement in the arrest process. But Shouta spoke highly of him, so Nobutoshi made the tough decision to trust him.

"Tell it to me again." There was no distrust or feigned interest in the detective's voice. There hadn't been the first time Nobutoshi had explained his theory, though it would have been warranted when a half-delirious Pro-Hero desperately tried to explain that their vandal case ran far deeper than they thought.

"This," Nobutoshi shuffled the papers into a messy pile and held up the coffee-stained picture of Midoriya. "Is Midoriya Izuku. Presumed dead after going missing on his way back from school two years ago. The case went cold due to police neglect. And these--" he pulled out a photo that he had taken at his shooting range, "are his friends, Toga Himiko and Shinsou Hitoshi. Shinsou-kun reported both Toga and Midoriya missing." "The same day?" Tsukauchi interrupted, leaning forward with furrowed brows. "Yes, but her parents denied the claim and told officials that she was staying with her aunt. It was never investigated further, and Shinsou stopped insisting after Midoriya's funeral."

"Any history of abuse?" Hizashi asked, trotting into the room with two mugs. He offered one to Nobutoshi and the gunslinger melted at the taste of hot chocolate on his tongue. Things had been a bit awkward with Hizashi when he started dating Shouta, but it had all smoothed out, made evident by the fact that it was Hizashi staying home to keep an eye on the man rather than Shouta.

"Suspected neglect," Nobutoshi confirmed, tugging a hand down his face as Hizashi joined them at the table. "Inko-san, Midoriya's mother, spoke to me privately about it. Toga was always twitchy, and tired. Manic, almost. Underweight, too. She'd never seen the girl use her Quirk, and only the kids seemed to know what it even does." Tsukauchi picked up the makeshift file on Toga Himiko with a raised eyebrow. "This is a photocopy?" "Of Midoriya-kun's Quirk Analysis."

Tsukauchi read the journal entry out-loud. "Toga Himiko. Quirk: Transform. The user is able to drink the blood of any person and turn into them, the period time allowed dependent on the amount of blood consumed. The user is seemingly immune to blood-transmitted diseases and iron poisoning, but is iron-deficient. Blood a required part of diet even outside of Quirk usage? Further testing required." He blinked astoundedly at the paper, then up at Nobutoshi. "This kid's a genius!" He exclaimed, handing the page to Hizashi to inspect. "And this isn't even all of it?" "Not even close," Nobutoshi huffed out a laugh, then sombered when his brain reminded him why they were even doing this in the first place.

"Toga was displaying symptoms of malnutrition, and not having her needs met in relation to her Quirk. Now I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure bruising easily and delayed reaction times are a sign of the early stages of starvation." "Neglect on the grounds of Quirk discrimination?" Hizashi asked, looking rather green around the gills. "Most likely," Nobutoshi sighed.

Tsukauchi held up a hand and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the other. "I don't mean to sound callous, but what is the relation besides them being friends and going supposedly missing on the same day?"

"Because," Nobutoshi began, sliding a transcript across the table to the two men opposite. "Shinsou rang me a few hours ago to tell me that he'd spoken to Toga Himiko and could confirm Midoriya Izuku is still alive, and the two are being kept somewhere."

"What?" Hizashi whispered, suddenly hoarse. Tsukauchi scrambled for the document. "This morning? And there were witnesses?" "His mother and a store-owner who knew the kids. Both attested to the girl being Toga." Nobutoshi took a few soothing sips of his hot chocolate as the Pro and detective fervently scanned through the transcript. Shouta had rather hastily put it together for Nobutoshi; all Pro Heroes' work phones recorded conversations as per work obligation (you weren't supposed to call that phone when the Pro was off-duty) and Nobutoshi vividly remembered giving the tres amigos the number to use in emergencies a few years ago.

"That's not all," he added, once he assumed that the two men were staring slack-jawed because they'd finished reading. He pushed the file Tsukauchi had given Shouta, the one that started it all, towards them. "This suddenly makes a lot more sense now, doesn't it? Midoriya and Toga both go missing, most likely due to a Quirk trafficking ring of some kind, and two years later intentionally make public displays of themselves in places where they know they'll be recognised."

"It's a cry for help," realised Tsukauchi. Nobutoshi nodded, and the room went silent.

"You would've made a good investigator," Hizashi noted, and Nobutoshi snorted. "How dare you," he dead-panned.

Tsukauchi made a strange gurgling sound, and both heads whipped around to stare at him in worry. "Naomasa?" Hizashi asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Tsukauchi just shook his head and pointed at the transcript.

Sharing a look, they both leaned forward. Tsukauchi was tapping on a name, on that Shinsou said he heard Toga mention.

Kurogiri.