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“So you took an apprentice again,” It was spoken not as a question, but a statement. Nedzu hummed and fiddled with the boiled cup of tea that settled between his paws.
“Why yes, you are correct. I did take another apprentice in,” A sip; slow, careful, deliberate. The creature at the desk did not care for time at this moment, so he bathed in the tension that filled the air, listening to the gentle tick, tick, tick of the clock from in the corner. “But this time, I plan to teach him all three years he’s here if I can. Possibly even longer if he’ll allow - though, I have a deep suspicion I won’t be needed for that long,” Another sip, and Nedzu stared into inky black eyes from where he sat, waiting for a response.
Only silence filled the air of his office though. The late afternoon lazily turning into early evening, the glows of the setting sun painting the room in tones of reds and golds, elongating the shadows that spread from every surface. The two just sat there, surveying the other across the large wooden desk, neither saying a word; Nedzu calmly drinking his tea, the other’s hot coffee still yet untouched.
Finally though -
“Why Midoriya?” Shouta asked, eyes narrowing as he folded his arms across his chest. His deep tone was laced in what Nedzu would guess was curiosity and suspicion.
Ah, yes. The three million yen question, isn’t it now Shouta? Nedzu almost giggled, instead bringing his tea to his snout before placing it delicately on his desk, once more twisting it in his paws a few times before turning to face the teacher. But if you can’t see it now, then I’m not going to spill any secrets - As they say, the game is no fun when everyone knows everyone's cards-
“Why not Midoriya? He’s an intelligent young man with a very useful quirk- And he’s the only one who's taken down the Zero Pointer in over two decades! So again, why not Midoriya?” He threw up his paws for a dramatic show of exclamation, keeping his tone light and airy. Dark eyes only narrowed more, the glare trying to search his expression for any information, for anything at all (and like he would ever truly see what Nedzu ever thought. He may have been his personal student at one time or another, but even then, Nedzu had only taken him in to create a knight. A boy he saw potential in, one he thought could possibly be like him - only to turn out as a boy barely damaged by society. Still cracked under the pressure, but still within and welcomed where he went. But he couldn’t just stop taking care of his first apprentice, even if he wasn’t damaged, he was still brilliant for his age - something rarely found outside of intelligence based quirks or heavily damaged monsters. So he took him in, kpet him close, and turned him into his knight. A piece on his board who he knew he could trust more than any other, one that could easily understand a portion of what Nedzu was always thinking, plotting. One who would always protect him. And one he would quickly rely on in case something ever happened to himself. But he would never be a monster like Midoriya-) but he guesses they found nothing, because the man clad in black just drooped his shoulders more than usual.
“You’re not going to give me anything, are you,” The words were gruff, and this time Nedzu didn’t hide his laughter.
“Hmm, you’re right. I’m not giving you anything you can’t already see now, Shouta… Think of it as a test - A very large and intricate puzzle for you to unsolve if you so wish to do so,” Nedzu leaned forward onto his desk, his paws holding his head up as his canines gleaned just the slightest in the dimming light, “Though realize, this game of chess you’re trying to play at is much bigger than you think - much more complicated than even a knight like yourself might be able to handle. But you do as you choose! If you wish to dig, then do so! I don’t mind it one bit! I’ll even pay you extra for any time you stay late at work!” He sat up straight in his chair and softly clapped his paws together, “And that’s all you’re getting! Now off you go! I have a new schedule to write up for young Midoriya, and I wish to complete that before Monday!”
Nedzu shooed him off, watching as the tired man left. In his mind though, all he could do was think hysterically how wonderful it would be to have someone try and peak through a crack into this new relationship formed. To dig up secrets that were decades old, for not just one or two people, but for two horrific monsters - for a man that’s but a whisper in the tunnels of the underground - a quirk that shouldn’t even be possible by scientific laws - the lies and manipulation that’s brought upon society by their own government - the list of things to find goes on and on and on and on. So many things wrong, so many things stacked atop one another just to lead into a moment like this - to lead two harrowing abominations together to create unfathomable chaos.
Oh, Nedzu couldn’t help but let out frenzied laughter at the idea of telling his apprentice that someone has tried to move their own piece - has tried to sit at their table and play their game of chess .
But instead of doing that, Nedzu calmed himself down from his hysterics and turned to his computer. Quickly he checked all the security measures before logging off for the night, the schedule he’d planned to write being finished the day the monster signed himself away.
Katsuki wasn’t afraid of nothing - well, almost nothing. He wasn’t scared of most villains, wasn’t afraid of the goons down in the dumps. Not afraid of quirks or of authority or anything else that could cover the spectrum for any type of fear.
But truly there were two things that frightened Katsuki, though he would never admit them.
Death was the first. From the day of the Slime Villain incident, he’d been terrified at the prospect of how easy his life could have flickered out. Of how easy it would have been to close his eyes and stop struggling forever. After that day, he’d been thoroughly traumatized - but he would never admit it. He wasn’t a little bitch.
The second though. The second was something that even the depths of Katsuki’s mind wouldn’t bring forward. Wouldn’t look at, wouldn’t touch - but always seemed to gently scratch him back. The thought was fleeting, and everytime it tried to crawl its way forward, tried to open its maw and spew its hazardous content, its identification, some automatic part of Katsuki slammed the iron door shut and locked it up for no one to see. Crimson eyes would hide the darkness that haunted his subconscious - the dark he unknowingly keeps away to protect himself. Whether it be his mistakes he possibly regrets (which he doesn’t - he knows it was wrong, but when it comes to him, it’s never wrong ) or possibly his mind is just trying to open his eyes to what he’s had a hand in creating - he doesn’t know, but the thought scratches at his subconscious and fills him with a strange fear every time he walks near.
The second fear is of a boy ( a monster ) named Midoriya Izuku.
And while Katsuki doesn’t know (he’ll never know, he’ll never understand because he’s too pigheaded to listen, too coward to look, too prideful to care, and too molded by a society that had always told him to turn up his nose at people like him because they can’t, and will never be something - He’s too far gone to ever truly see-) why he sometimes tries to walk the long way around Midoriya, or why he can never truly hold those shining emerald eyes - he does know that even if his conscious mind tells him otherwise, his gut and his instincts warn him of a dangerous predator whenever the emerald eyed boy is around, and that pisses him off.
Because Midoriya Izuku is nothing.
Midoriya Izuku is a nobody .
Midoriya Izuku is worthless and weak.
(But his subconscious is smart and the subconscious should always be trusted, even if no one knows what’s going on back there)
(And Nedzu quietly laughs as he watches another ignorant pawn walk across the board as if they have more purpose than what’s truly there, as if they were the master - ignoring the true beast thats eyes never leave any movement unwatched, any noise unheard, any nook unscathed, any piece unaccounted for)
There was an air to Midoriya, Todoroki noted, that reminded him of a deadly animal. One that’s been hurt and tortured all it’s life - trained to rip out the throats of anything and everything that moved, spoke, breathed - but was still trying to fit in as a trained pet - kind, careful, unassuming.
Midoriya was strange, he noted, strange in a way that made him want to use his fire. In a way that told him if he did, if he used his fire, he would be protected - if only for a few minutes ( seconds, his mind correctly supplied). He hated the thought. He hated the air. He hated Midoriya - or maybe he hated that every time he glanced over to the emerald eyed boy, some inner instinct he hasn’t felt in years - some old dormant yearning to survive - made him want to use his fire. Made him want to flare up, and hide himself away, as if that could solve all his problems.
He thinks he hates Midoriya , Todoroki notes, as he watches emerald eyes pick apart his soul from across the room. If only for the reason that his very presence seems to set off his fire.
But eventually, he learns to ignore it. The feeling of being around Midoriya. After all, no one else seems to be uncomfortable, no one else seems to shy away from him. He’s the sunshine boy, the ‘class puppy’ he’s already heard others call him. His demeanor is bright and shy, and he’s always doing what he can to help, even if no one really asked him to.
(Once more, Nedzu laughs as he watches another piece completely ignore the threat that is his personal student)
Inko first noticed the change when Izuku was but a young boy - soon after his discovered quirklessness. She noticed how his eyes went from sparkling in fascination, to shining in some pre-created sheen as if the light was always hitting his eyes (as if he was trying to hide something that lurked in the dark), but there was nothing she could really do about it.
Questions were asked, to both her son and his school, bruises were hidden badly and scrapes were constantly cleaned without her knowledge of when. When brought up, the topic was pushed away - her little Izuku would always catch a fit if she brought up his injuries. Eventually though, they fell into routine. Izuku would come home, beat up and burnt (and boy, how many times did she hope that it wasn’t little Katsu-chan doing these things to her baby. How many times did she call Mitsuki in the evening explaining that she thinks Katsuki was becoming a bit too rough at school with his quirk. How many times was she told that it would change only for it to happen again and again-) and she would clean up his wounds without asking a single question as he rambled on and on and on about this subject or that topic.
She noticed the change when her boy went from bright to dim, from outgoing to skittish. How the light of her life seemed to fall into a void before even his tenth birthday. And everyday, she asked herself what she could do. What she could do to help - but every night brought the same results.
No other school wanted her son because he was ‘slightly undeveloped’ ( quirkless ).
No one wanted to watch him while she worked, because he was ‘so high-maintenance’ ( quirkless ).
No one wanted to help care for her son while she struggled as a single mother because ‘how would I even take care of a special needs ( QUIRKLESS ) kid?’
What could she do? What could she do? It was so hard to know what was right and wrong in this situation, because all of society was treating her baby wrong, but whenever he did something right, he was treated as a nuisance, as a liar, as a freak- and she knew. She knew her baby was hurting, but what could she do?!
And then one day, she found him mumbling in front of the tv. His fingers twitched as he stared, shining dull eyes glued to the screen. And she got an idea.
Notebooks were shoved into his hands to give him something to do other than worry about the people around him (though later she would learn that he still focused on people, just more in depth than before), she bought him more merch to make him feel better, and she pushed him in his analysis. She gently encouraged his thoughts of being a hero, though more of an analysis kind that stayed in the background, and rapidly helped him with his school work. She didn’t truly know what she was doing at the time, all she wanted was for her baby to light up again - to be something more than a fake shine in the light.
And it worked, well it worked a little bit. Her boy grew and grew just a little brighter each day.
But as she watched him come back to some semblance of life, she watched as he became something marvellously dangerous. That even as he came home cut up, broken, and bruised; there was always some sort of hunter, some predator that lurked in her son's eyes, thumped with his every move. It was like she could see his mind transforming from something hurt, to blank, to intelligent, to animalistic in the most human form.
It was strange, watching as her son came home everyday, a nervous smile painting his face, while his eyes calculated everything easily. She watched with a sight that only a mother could see as her son changed into something dangerous. It had bothered her a bit at first, to see such things in her boy's eyes, but then, she felt something akin to pride.
It was messed up, terrible, she knows it was. But, she couldn’t help but think that this was better, and she couldn’t help but think that ‘ one day, my boy is going to ruin the world, and I hope he does because he deserves whatever he wants. ’ So everyday, she continued to supply his needs, and watched as it seemed to feed the terrible thing that hid in his eyes. She continued to patch up his cuts, his bruises, his wounds, and watched as her son took in the world. Watched as plans formed in his mind and on his desk in the form of scattered papers, and broken pencils. Watched as her boy planned out how to become a hero, and how to change the world.
This was all wrong. She knew she was a terrible mother. For letting her son fall this far. A child in a war zone - A child leading a one man army. Waiting, just waiting for the monsters that will show up. Taking all the beatings for himself, but still standing up because in order to plan, in order to lead, to achieve, to win, he needs to gather all the data, all the information. Oh, I’m such a terrible mother for letting this happen- for letting him continue. But even as she thought of how things could have been different, how she could have changed everything - she doesn’t really regret it deep down.
Because her baby just came home and gently told her in whispered tones that he’d found someone like him, and that said person was now going to take him in as his apprentice, his personal student. And she couldn’t have been more proud as she watched a genuine smile crawl onto her baby’s face for the first time in years, couldn’t have been more proud as she watched him scamper off to his room and go off in excitement.
She’s a terrible mother for letting it get this far. For ruining her baby the way mothers shouldn’t. But in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to care as she watched how curiously happy her boy genuinely was for the first time in years.
When Shouta first saw the boy on the screen at the Entrance Exam and saw how his boss had reacted to him, he knew there had to be something about the boy. He knew . But when he’d done his base research, and questioned the principal later about said boy, all his assumptions were called mid-glace - or otherwise known as ‘kinda right, but really wrong’ so he’d dropped it and went on with his day. He added the boy to his class to help him with his ridiculous handle of his quirk, and continued on like he did most years. By threatening to expel all his students.
But when only a week into the school year, he finds himself getting a call from the principal to send down one Midoriya Izuku, his thoughts from the exam surface to the lids of his eyes and he can’t help but wonder and wonder and wonder just what he missed. Just what did he miss that had made the principal act in such a way?
When only a few hours later he was informed himself that said principal had taken on a personal student, he couldn’t help but feel some semblance of dread. He’d apparently missed so much of the situation. He’d completely read everything wrong. (And wasn’t that a shock to him, even if he knew that Nedzu’s intelligence far surpassed his own, it still shocked him. He’d learned under the creature for only a year and a half, but even he thought he’d gotten close to understanding him. To really see what goes on in such a head that was the principal of UA. [And Nedzu all but laughs at that notion] But apparently not, and now he’s here wondering what he’s missed. What he’d glossed over, swept away as unimportant. Recreating and watching through every scene in the Exam with the boy in it, making sure to check for any and all details about how he acted, talked, moved, just was. But there was nothing- nothing he could see).
So he thought and thought and thought, and then he talked to Nedzu, and oh looky, oh surprise - another game that’s been laid out for him to play. Another game where he knows he’s not going to like the outcome, no matter whether he wins or loses. But still, with a fake calm, he marches his way across the board he knows he’s on and wonders. Wonders who’s on the other side of Nedzu, because it surely wasn’t him - not anymore (probably not ever ) and his mind has to think of the only person that’s been able to catch Nedzu’s attention this early on, the only person that seems to have impacted him, the only person that’s been slithering through his very own mind.
Midoriya Izuku .
He’s the only other person that could be sat on the other side of the board. As the opponent in this game of chess (but if he’s really Nedzu’s apprentice, then maybe this isn’t a game where he’s sat across from him - maybe it’s a learning game, where Midoriya is sat to watch as Nedzu demonstrates, or maybe Midoriya is playing the way he wants and Nedzu is just gently watching and occasionally critiquing his ways- Maybe they’re both just sat and waiting for someone else to make the first move so they can bombard everyone and everything they can - just waiting to bring some chaos as Nedzu had done with him in the past-) and as Shouta thinks this, he finally reaches the edge of the metaphorical game board, and allows himself to try and pull out a chair. He’s walked this far, and he can’t help but wonder, ponder, curiously think about why Midoriya Izuku was so special (more so than he was), so he continues to struggle to sit with the Master and his new apprentice at the table to get a better look, a better view and understanding of what is to come next. Of what he is to look for.
And this whole time, he can’t help but think about Nedzu’s words as he told him of how large this really was. And as such conversations play on loop in the back of his mind, he can’t help but sharpen his eyes to the boy that sits in one of the chairs across the chess board, staring at him with his unnaturally shining emerald eyes. Can’t help but begin to notice the details of his face and his neck, of his upper collar and wrists and hands. His posture, his frame, his clothes, his hair, his expression, his movements, his breaths - his everything.
Shouta watches, and watches as he imagines emerald eyes watching him back before turning away to look down at the board of human chess, of the board filled with his coworkers and students; even his new ones, already added like the pawns they were. Pieces he doesn’t know; probably people he hasn’t met. But he watches, never taking his eyes off the boy, never letting anything go unscathed under the stare of his dark inky eyes.
(He just barely catches the glimpse of a scar edge sticking out of his uniform neck later that Monday, but when he does, it never leaves his mind)
(Nedzu’s canines show as he watches how his old student watches his new like a hawk, unaware that the little monster happens to be looking right back)