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Nedzu gently turned the page of the book Izuku was reading, the little ghost muttering in a stream of incoherent rambles as he replicated the pictures as best as he could with his broken wrist. Even with the injury, Nedzu could say the kid was doing a great job, hovering just above the table with crossed legs as he stared down at the book.
Being able to see Izuku and being able to understand him were two very different things. Nedzu heard what everyone else did - garbled and warped nonsense - and sometimes being able to see Izuku didn’t explain any better why he was doing the things he did. The communication barrier was able to be worked around with loose gestures and vague noises, but only communicating that way didn’t sit well with Nedzu knowing there were better options out there. He messed with a few ideas before he realized a pretty simple solution: sign language.
He could see the kid after all, which meant he could watch his hands.
Nedzu did his own private research on the subject, and when Hizashi noticed a sign language book resting on Nedzu’s desk one day, he asked about the sudden interest. Nedzu was blunt about his motives, and Present Mic was all too happy to be an even deeper well of knowledge on the topic. For the little listener, he had said with a grin. Having a Quirk like Hizashi’s at a young age no doubt caused problems, and he wasn’t surprised in the slightest to learn the Pro Hero was very fluent in sign.
Nedzu’s Quirk allowed him to learn sign language very, very quickly, and by day three he could classify as fluent. Teaching Izuku wouldn’t be that easy, he knew.
Well, he thought he knew. The more he taught Izuku the more Nedzu was beginning to realize the kid absorbed information like a sponge. It had only been two days, and even though he was nowhere near Nedzu’s level, Izuku could still sign more complicated expressions than would normally be expected, not only as a complete beginner to the language but also with his age. Granted, it still wasn’t full sentences, but he was getting there.
Nedzu was impressed. He wasn’t impressed often. Dead or alive, potential was potential, and he’d be damned if he didn’t encourage that level of intelligence for as long as Izuku was listening.
Izuku patiently tapped at the table, and Nedzu flipped another page. He went back to signing to himself and muttering.
Usually Izuku wouldn’t be with Nedzu at the moment. It was still technically class time, but the Hero Course was on a trip to the USJ sight for the day, so Izuku had invited himself in, arms wrapped around himself as he shivered in the quiet of the room, form a little too unstable. Nedzu didn’t have the heart to turn him away. Instead he decided to get in another day’s worth of sign language practice, and Izuku agreed readily, posture relaxing as he eagerly floated over to the principal with his wide, watchful eyes.
He still couldn’t move the pages. At least, not consistently enough to be worth it - Izuku explaining he had a mild breakthrough but nothing concrete - and the action seemed to tire him out relatively quickly. Izuku only wanted to focus on the language anyway, not split his attention with moving things and exhausting himself as well, so Nedzu offered to do the page turning for him, which led them to where they were now.
It was a peaceful atmosphere in the staff room. Even doing paperwork, Nedzu could say he was enjoying himself. As much as Izuku’s words distorted and warped, a voice not supposed to be heard, it was still an odd kind of soothing, especially having a vague idea of what he was murmuring about.
The mood was broken by a soft knock on the door. Toshinori let himself in with a sheepish smile.
Izuku didn’t quite retreat, but he startled, floating up high and backwards until he was tucked away in the corner, whisps, just like the first time Nedzu saw him.
Nedzu gave his employee a look. That was a peculiar reaction. He would have to look into it later, maybe Aizawa had noticed anything? He should probably ask the Hero Course students too.
Sorry to interrupt, the man said, and Nedzu saw Izuku shrink in his peripheral.
Weren’t kids supposed to be ecstatic seeing All Might in the flesh? The kid had eyes and ears on at least this entire floor, Izuku had to have seen All Might deflate into Toshinori at some point, right? Did he just not piece it together?
No. Izuku wasn’t that stupid.
Wasn’t there an incident with All Might before this? Right, there was.
I just haven’t heard from Eraser or Thirteen in quite a while, Toshinori continued, oblivious to Izuku’s mild discomfort and Nedzu’s thoughts. I’m not sure if it’s just me overthinking, but, I don’t know. I have a bad gut feeling. I should’ve been updated by now.
That got Izuku’s attention, the kid unfurling slightly from his nervous huddle against the corner to look at Nedzu worriedly. The kid blurred, lights flickering as every window rattled through an invisible storm. The Symbol of Peace looked on-edge.
Izuku quickly finger spelled ‘U-S-J’, then signed ‘where?’ with wide, sharp eyes. His movements were stilted from his broken wrist not moving quite right, but Nedzu got the idea without any struggle.
Nedzu hummed, reaching into an open drawer to lay out a map of the school grounds and its different training facilities on top of his desk as an answer. He wouldn’t stop the kid from going, he couldn’t get hurt after all, and if the situation was bad enough Izuku would come back to report to him.
Well, he hoped he did.
Toshinori watched Nedzu unfurl the blueprints in bewilderment, but Nedzu didn’t pay him any mind. Instead, he watched as Izuku floated down to Nedzu’s shoulder - the closest he’d gotten to All Might so far - and scan the layout. The second it made sense to the boy was the second he charged through the wall and vanished.
Nedzu shifted his attention back to Toshinori with a small smile. It seems you’re not the only one who's worried.
Toshinori gave his boss a mildly alarmed look, but Nedzu brushed it off.
Toshinori, he said, you have been doing this for years. Trust your gut instinct, whatever it may be. Nedzu crossed his paws on his desk. But before you go, do you recognize the name ‘Izuku’?
Toshinori frowned at him.
Tomura was having an awful day, if he did say so himself.
The brats were scattered, Thirteen and Eraserhead were preoccupied and slowly drowning in goons, and his Nomu stood confidently next to him, waiting on hand and foot for his next order. Kurogiri was entertaining the rest of the brats near the front gate. Everything was going perfectly.
Except All Might wasn’t here, which was the whole reason he hatched this plan to begin with.
Tomura went through all the trouble of sneaking into U.A, stealing information and carefully orchestrating this whole scheme, just for the Number One Hero to skip out on his own funeral.
Today was an awful, awful day.
If the Symbol of Peace wouldn’t show on his own, Tomura would give him a reason to show, and if blood needed to be spilled he was only happy to deliver.
He watched Eraserhead’s movements, his techniques, gathered as much information as he could to piece together how to slip through Eraserhead’s defenses and crush him.
He managed one touch. The man’s elbow crumbled to dust.
It was all Tomura wanted, just to show the “hero” what he was capable of. He called on his Nomu, eyes just pinpricks, and demanded it beat Eraserhead’s body into a bloody pulp. The Nomu obeyed swiftly, and Eraserhead lay incapacitated as his Nomu slammed the man’s face into the asphalt.
Tomura cackled. If he couldn’t have All Might, he would destroy everything around him until he finally decided to come out and play, and he was beginning to hope All Might would take his sweet time. The longer he took, the more opportunity he had to stomp on everything he loved.
There was a collective pause, like the building and all of its occupants had to adjust for something that shouldn’t be there. The air very quickly felt colder and was only getting worse, chills began to claw at his skin and sink into his bones. Tomura frowned and scanned the area for the source of his discomfort, carefully picking at his surroundings with narrowed eyes.
Someone screamed.
It rebounded off of the glass ceiling, echoing in an odd manner, somehow simultaneously confined by the enclosed space and free of any physical burden. The air swelled with its intensity as Tomura was suddenly unable to breathe properly in the thick, choking air. The building itself shivered in fright as the screams roared, growing, expanding, vibrating in his bones and making him clench his teeth as a headache shot through his temples and behind his eyes. Tomura’s vision swam dangerously, and he covered his ears in desperation to make it stop.
Tomura forced his head up and opened his mouth to order his Nomu to destroy whatever was making such a horrid noise, and as his surroundings warped in on itself - folding and moving like waves - his vision zeroed in on his Nomu.
Its eyes were green. It was staring right at Tomura with a single-minded intensity that made him sweat and his stomach drop into his feet.
It charged.
Nedzu tilted his head curiously, watching as Toshinori sat on the question for a moment.
He said no, but it sounded unsure, as if there was something in the back of his mind that disagreed.
Are you aware of Izuku? In the Hero Course classroom? Nedzu asked, and by the puzzled look on the man’s face Nedzu knew Aizawa hadn’t bothered to inform the man. A regret Aizawa held now, no doubt. Izuku Midoriya is a ghost haunting Class 1-A. We aren’t sure where he came from or why, but he is a very young child. Please be kind to him.
Toshinori stopped.
Nedzu watched as his whole body seemed to seize, and Toshinori coughed hard in surprise, blood spilling from his mouth as he tried hard to stifle it. Nedzu offered the man a tissue. He took it with shaking hands. Are you alright?
I need to go, he replied, unable to look Nedzu in the eyes. He turned on his heel and rushed out the door.
Nedzu sat, dread making his heart sink as he watched the man flee.
What kind of a reaction was that?
Tomura flung himself wildly to the right, desperately trying to avoid the attack as the Nomu took a reckless swing at him. His body felt off balance, the world tilted on its axis as he tried to right himself. The Nomu turned again to face him, and those green eyes burned holes into his head as it once again charged.
He shrieked and scrambled out of the way, flinging a hand out and clipping the Nomu’s arm as it barely missed by a margin. It’s skin crumbled away, but the creature didn’t react to any pain it may have felt, too focused on ripping Tomura’s body to shreds. He couldn’t think clearly, a sick feeling in his stomach threatening to make him spew as the world around him swayed and tilted unnaturally.
The Nomu backed off just for a moment, gearing up for another attack, and in that moment he felt another presence charge at him, the sound of popping explosions ringing in his ears. Tomura threw his arm out desperately, just to even stop the noise. It was too much, so many things were happening and he couldn’t focus.
His hand grabbed onto something. Someone roared in pain, and the screaming from earlier sparked up all over again, all encompassing, and Tomura let go to cover his ears with four fingers.
The last thing Tomura saw was the Nomu lunge, and an extreme, sharp pain blossomed in his temple as the Nomu managed to swing his arm at his head. He barely caught a glimpse of Kurogiri appearing behind the Nomu as his world went dark.
Aizawa knew two things.
One, he could see his own body lying broken on the asphalt, unmoving, which worried him greatly for what he felt were obvious reasons.
Two, the Nomu creature that was kicking his ass earlier was now standing like a bodyguard, shielding himself and a very injured Bakugo from the rest of the students.
He had no idea where Thirteen was and didn’t know who was safe. What’s more, he couldn’t piece together the change in the creature’s attitude all of a sudden.
The two villains were nowhere to be seen, a positive in all this. A quick, panicked scan of his surroundings revealed most of his students were present, with only Iida and Tsuyu missing. His stomach dropped when he realized, but he grit his teeth and held on to the knowledge that these kids were competent. Things had seemed to have settled down anyway - again he had no idea how - so Aizawa took it upon himself to try and figure out what the fuck was happening. He reached forward, cautious, and attempted to grab his body's hand, however nauseous the idea made him. He phased right through it, and his thoughts spun as theories raced through his head. None of the other students were looking at him, acknowledging the fact that their teacher had seemingly split body and soul.
He wasn't...dead, was he? His body was still breathing, a slight rise and fall of its chest. That couldn't be it.
The creature turned its head, as if to check on the two, and its gaze locked on Aizawa. The creature’s body vibrated unnaturally, and it reminded the teacher of the windows in his classroom.
Wait. The windows in his classroom?
Wait, its eyes were green. They weren’t before, Aizawa knew that. They had been small pinpricks, barely visible at all.
Midoriya? Aizawa called out, and startled as his voice echoed around his ears, both present but not.
The creature vibrated again, and a figure stepped out of the creature’s back, rushing towards him with devastated eyes as he cried out. The Nomu dropped like a rag doll, and the students began to reluctantly approach his body.
Aizawa found himself holding a young child as he sobbed against him.
I’m sorry, I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry I’m sorry, he choked out, sounding - sounding so fucking young.
His small hands clung to the sides of his shirt in a death grip, face buried in his stomach. His hair was curly and green, and Aizawa numbly wondered if his eyes were similar.
Every shaky breath the kid took rattled in his chest, and Aizawa saw bones sticking out of his elbows.
Aizawa held the kid - Izuku Midoriya - close, trying to give him as much comfort as he could manage while he refused to think about what Midoriya’s injuries meant, and what seeing Midoriya meant for him. He couldn't entertain the idea, not right now.
Kacchan, Midoriya sobbed, finally looking up. He had freckles, and yes, his eyes were green. Blood had settled under his nose and leaked from his mouth. His face was streaked with tears.
He released part of his hold to point with a broken wrist at Bakugo, who was looking increasingly pale. Kacchan. Kacchan’s hurting.
I know, Aizawa replied, but help is coming.
He hoped to God he was right as he soothed the child who had a never ending well of tears, clinging to the adult like Aizawa was his only anchor.
Toshinori arrived to nothing but chaos.
Aizawa’s broken body laid in the cracked asphalt, unmoving and seemingly lifeless. Unconscious bodies of random thugs scattered the building, and the students were gathered around their teacher, looking scared and confused. Bakugo was among the crowd, crouched next to Aizawa as he clutched his bicep with gritted teeth, blood pouring out of the gaping wound. Iida and Tsuyu appeared to be missing, but Toshinori knew Iida had run off to get help, and Tsuyu was looking over an injured Thirteen.
A creature, tall and muscular, sat slumped a few feet away from the large cluster of students. No one was acknowledging the hideous thing other than wary looks every so often.
Toshinori swallowed his worry, and shoved his lingering, rampant guilt at Nedzu’s and his conversation earlier.
He couldn’t be Toshinori right now. He had to be All Might.
All Might approached the students carefully, asking for a brief on the situation which he readily got. He coaxed the students to move closer to the entrance as he mentally counted heads - partly as a distraction from any thoughts he may have and partly because of the necessity. He scooped up Aizawa and led the group of students forward to meet up with Tsuyu.
The medics arrived shortly after everyone was semi-settled, Iida anxiously waiting off to the side. Snipe and Midnight immediately rushed off to capture the creature and thugs when they were briefed on it. Bakugo was coaxed into settling with the medics, Aizawa and Thirteen were carted off on a stretcher to the hospital, and All Might gently suggested the other students head on home to get some rest, to which they agreed, slowly trickling out under the watchful gazes of the Pro Heroes present.
A freckled face bounced around in his mind’s eye. He couldn’t shake it off. As he watched the ambulance race to fight against time itself, he felt numb.
Izuku Midoriya.
He knew he’d heard that name before, years ago. A brave kid with bright eyes and such a hopeful smile. The memories were fuzzy, having been dulled with time, but he remembered.
A hero crushed a kid’s dream and expected to have no consequences. A kid’s bright eyed hope was thrown away, brushed aside for something more reasonable.
If Toshinori had gone for something reasonable, All Might and the Symbol of Peace would’ve never existed.
Nedzu’s words rebounded in his head, on an endless repeat. Izuku Midoriya is a ghost haunting Class 1-A.
Haunting. Toshinori knew what that meant, knew what it implied, and Toshinori prayed and hoped to anyone listening that the young, bright child hadn’t done what Toshinori knew he had done.
No wonder the kid had lashed out at him that day. No wonder.
As the pieces slotted into place, Toshinori swallowed the bile creeping up his throat, his heart breaking into a million, fragile little pieces.
Midoriya wouldn’t let go of him.
As his body was placed on a stretcher with care - wow, that was very surreal to watch - Midoriya only began to cry harder as he came to the realization that he couldn’t stick close to both Aizawa and Bakugo anymore, and the thought of having to choose was making him panic. His head swiveled back and forth, grip tightening on him but his body jerking as if he was about to race over to Bakugo. The poor kid was borderline hyperventilating, tears mixing with blood as each panicked breath rattled. It was starting to mess with the machines being attached to his body in the ambulance, the screens glitching and malfunctioning.
Aizawa did his best to calm Midoriya down, but he wasn’t fucking meant for this. That was more Hizashi’s thing, or Toshinori for that matter.
Go to Bakugo, Aizawa tried to coax, but Midoriya shook his head wildly.
Being alone is scary, he sobbed. I don’t want to leave you alone.
Then stay with me, he tried again. You’ll meet up with Bakugo a little later.
Kacchan’s hurting, he repeated, only crying harder. Hurting makes you sad. I can’t leave him sad. I can’t.
Well what the fuck was Aizawa supposed to say to that. His mind raced to find some kind of solution as Midoriya panicked, the ambulance doors shutting as the engine stalled once from Midoriya’s interference, then roared to life.
Midoriya, he said, getting the kid to back up enough to look him in the eye. Go with Bakugo, okay?
Midoriya let out something between a breath and a sob, clutching his sleeves desperately.
I’ll be okay, I promise you. Have I ever steered you wrong before? The kid sniffed, shook his head. Go with Bakugo. I’m trusting his safety to you. Can you look after him for me?
He still looked reluctant, but now that the decision had been made by Aizawa instead of himself, he seemed to actually be contemplating it. His green eyes looked at Bakugo, then back at Aizawa.
Go on, he coaxed, gently giving the kid a small push. The next time you see me, it won’t be like this. I promise you.
Midoriya’s breath hitched and rattled, his eyes welling with fresh tears as his lower lip wobbled, then he raced to catch up with Bakugo’s ambulance.
Aizawa watched him go, taking a deep breath himself, then he turned and barely managed to get into the ambulance with his body, facing the next couple of long hours alone.