Chapter Text

First session

The pro hero Midnight sat at her desk, a frown upon her face.

Or, perhaps it was better to say that Kayama Nemuri sat there, considering she wasn’t even in her hero suit. She was sitting there in a comfortable, thin sweater, perfect for the spring weather of a new semester at UA. A pair of slim reading glasses rested upon her nose, as she read through the dense text of the analysis file in front of her.

It was no secret that the children who came to UA were sometimes...troubled. They were teenagers, after all, a mere fifteen years old. Trouble had a way of finding you, when you were that young. And it was certainly easy to tell that there would be some kids who...didn’t know what to do with themselves around someone they fancied.

But this kid...

It wasn’t a question of if his file was accurate. Between Shouta’s first-hand reports, and Nezu’s analysis of the boy, there was no doubt that every word here was carefully chosen to paint a stunning picture of exactly what one Mineta Minoru was like. On paper, it made you wonder how he even got into UA; why his behavior hadn’t been corrected; and just how quickly they could expel him.

And yet.

That didn’t actually solve the problem, now did it?

It just made it a problem for some other class, at some other school.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, growing ever more frustrated with the situation as a whole. But, this was what UA was for. The ones with the most potential were often the ones who needed the most push to be better people, after all...

And there was no more delaying matters, either. She heard the knock on her door, and perked up. “Come in!” she called, trying to put on her best happy-teacher face.

The door slammed open, at least until the hydraulic safety up top caught it a few inches shy of the wall. There, with leering, roaming eyes, stood the boy of the hour. Mineta Minoru’s gaze snapped right to her, as a lurid grin spread across his lips. “I’m ready to learn, sensei—“

He paused, almost making a show of recognizing what she was wearing, and the fact that it was quite possibly the polar opposite of her hero suit. His face fell, and then his head fell, as he slumped in disappointment. “Aww, you’re just in boring normal clothes,” he said, a bit too loudly for what was presumably a comment to himself.

Seeing it all for herself, everything clicked for Nemuri. Ah, yes. She understood exactly what she was dealing with now.

She just had to make him admit it. So for the moment, she ignored his comments entirely, keeping a professional smile. “Ah, there you are, Mineta-kun! Come have a seat.” She gestured to the other side of her desk, where two chairs sat. “Pick whichever one you’d like.”

Minoru walked over, deeply aware of the R-Rated Hero herself watching him. Eyeing the chairs for just a moment, he sat in the one closest to the door, taking a moment to look around the room. It was a completely ordinary office, hardly any peculiar ornamentation or decoration...

But he did spot several other identical chairs stacked up in the corner. He’d been in offices before...And usually if there were enough chairs for there to be a choice, it was because three had been set out. One for the child, and each parent, if they could both make it to hear of the disciplinary action. “So...Er...Aizawa-sensei didn’t actually tell me why I had to come down here...”

Nemuri watched him, carefully. She saw the way his mannerisms shifted once the door clicked shut behind him. And how his eyes went right to both chairs...and the extras in the corner. The wheels were turning in his head.

Well, this would at least be interesting. “Ah, yes. He can be brief that way, but he’s a softy at heart. You’ll learn to like him. As you know, Mineta-kun, UA is a very prestigious school, one that regularly turns out some of the best and brightest of the hero industry...”

“Uh-huh,” he said, shrinking into himself slightly. Like he’d heard this sort of speech before, and was dreading what was about to come. The picture in her mind started to grow ever more clear.

Now to flip his expectations on their head so she could actually work with the kid. “And that’s why we have to be open to recognizing when our students need an extra hand.”

“...Huh?” Minoru looked up from his hands, outright confused. “This...Isn’t about—Is this about my Quirk test with Aizawa-sensei today?” He asked, pivoting on a dime from whatever he was about to say to her.

“I want to help you work on your self-esteem issues, Mineta-kun. You and your partner for this little group project.”

The boy in front of her blinked, slowly, as if waiting for some illusion to break in front of him. “My partner?”

“Yes! Who should be arriving any moment now—“

Almost on cue, there was a fresh knock, a shadow seen through the frosted window in the door. “Come in!” Nemuri called once again.

The door opened, to a rather calmer, but even more visibly confused Todoroki Shoto, holding a note up like a warding talisman. “I was...told to come to your office, Kayama-sensei?”

One week earlier

The students had been picked. The class rosters were decided. Everyone was ready, and waiting, for the first day of the new semester. But there was one more task looming over the staff.

Picking out the students who they needed to watch.

Some of them were children who had barely got in by the skin of their teeth. Only just managing to qualify, or qualifying almost entirely by overwhelming performance in one half of the entrance exam, could mean any number of troubles to work on. Others were children with disciplinary records. Anything could be fixed, given patience and time, but every day that behavior wasn’t curbed was a day where it got a little more embedded.

And nobody wanted another Endeavor running around in a few years.

Speaking of Endeavor, that was of course the other thing to look for; legacy children. Almost everyone wanted to be a hero, but even in the healthiest family, growing up in the shadow of a big name could create a...very specific pressure. More than one young hero with a bright future had ended up in early retirement, or worse, because that pressure led to them getting in over their head once they were in the field.

All of this was why the teachers and upper staff of UA High were seated around a large meeting table, each of them scrolling through data on tablets. Writeups, disciplinary records, entrance exam footage, enrollment interviews, everything they could possibly have to work with. Had they printed it all out at once, it would have been stacks and stacks of paper, a truly terrifying amount of trees lost to the greater good.

And this was just for 1-A. They had even more meetings in the coming days for the remaining classes.

Nemuri was one of the first to speak up, since they’d started chewing through the data. “So, we’re obviously putting Todoroki-kun on observation, right?”

“Obviously,” Aizawa Shouta said. He didn’t even look up from his own tablet, eyeing the numbers.

At the head of the table, principal Nezu steepled his little fingers in front of his snout, eyes sparkling with intrigue. “The data alone would suggest it be a good idea...But you sound like you have a more specific reason to keep an eye on him.”

“A hunch. Has anyone else looked at his costume design proposal yet?” she asked, looking around the table for confirmation.

Maijima-san looked up, sweeping his long hair out of the way of his eyes. Without his Power Loader armor, he looked downright scrawny, long limbs struggling to fill out his officewear despite it being fitted to him. “I did. It’s entirely ice themed.”

A few murmurs ran through the room. They all knew the boy’s Quirk, of course. Which was definitely not entirely ice themed.

Nezu just sat there, waiting for them to come to the conclusion he’d, apparently, already figured out.

Kan-san rubbed his chin, the ports for his blood gauntlets peeking out from under his shirt sleeve. “The question, then, is whether the boy is just trying to get out from under his father’s shadow...Or something more.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Nezu said, nodding along. “But you brought him up first for a reason, Kayama-san. What stood out to you?”

Nemuri nodded. “I don’t want to make any untoward accusations,” she started, choosing her words carefully, “but whatever Todoroki-kun is going through at home, the comparisons can’t be good for his self-esteem. I’d like to take him on and help build his confidence in himself.”

It was a bold choice, to be sure. There was a certain level of politics that couldn’t be avoided in this dance, of all of them trying to do right by the children...but inevitably, having opinions about what was most right for any given student.

On the other hand, nobody knew self-confidence like Midnight. And her reasoning was deeply sound. None of the others could deny that she was the best choice for this part of the job...

And thus, Nezu gave a nod. “Well then, in that case I look forward to hearing your after-action report once you’ve met with young Todoroki! Before we move on, is there anyone else who stands out to you?” he offered, knowing how these meetings could go. It was best to let them get all their ‘picks’ in at once, to keep anyone from bristling at hearing the same colleagues jumping in again and again.

Nemuri frowned to herself, zooming out from Todoroki-kun’s profile to look at the full rosters. Lots of smiling faces, nervous faces, and all the general sort of uncertainties she’d expect.

But there, down at the bottom of 1-A’s roster, was a face. A boy who’d leaned in extra close to the automated camera until his face completely filled the frame, his grin as wide as it could go, and holding up both hands with his fingers in a V-for-victory pose.

He looked less like a prospective hero, and more like a comedian.

And yet. “There is one more that sticks out to me...”

Now

Todoroki Shoto sat in the one remaining chair, and tried to figure out what exactly was going on. Though he was not the bragging type, he was fairly intelligent. And though he was not the getting-in-trouble type, he learned enough from research and observation to fill in the gaps. There were only a few reasons a teacher called you into their office.

One, something to do with your schoolwork and grades. The only actual assignments they’d done on their first day was the Quirk test, which Kayama-sensei wouldn’t be relevant to, so that was out.

Two, disciplinary action. From what he’d seen of the boy sitting next to him—Mineta, right, right—that made sense for him, but Shoto...Well, he paused for a moment, just long enough to run over a mental map of the school’s rules, and basic social decorum. He had perhaps been a bit cold standoffish, sure, but that wasn’t a rule broken. So, that was out.

Which also, incidentally, ruled it out for Mineta, because you don’t call two students into the same office for two separate reasons.

And that left the third reason. Corrective action. Seeing something wrong that could become one of the other two reasons, and moving to push it elsewhere before it could grow into something that would require more effort.

That made a lot of sense.

Except he had no earthly idea how the short, purple-haired boy currently staring at the floor could possibly fit into whatever Kayama-sensei saw in need of correction.

So, after several seconds of increasingly awkward silence, Shoto simply looked his teacher in the eye, and tried to find the most respectful way to phrase this. “...If I may ask, Kayama-sensei, why are we here?”

“Ooh, you’re direct. I like that,” she said to him, grinning to herself. “I was just telling Mineta-kun a bit about it. We strive to do our best for our students here at UA, and that includes noticing the sort of struggles that could grow into handicaps down the line.”

Shoto nodded along. Option three it was, then. But what could this struggle be? He had excellent control of his Quirk (more than enough to avoid using the cursed half), his grades were top notch, this had to be too soon for social matt—

“And if I can be direct in turn,” Kayama-sensei cut through his thoughts, “I noticed the both of you seem to struggle with your self-confidence, self-expression, and...self-esteem, I’ll venture to guess? A lot of self in that, really.”

That knocked Shoto’s entire thought process entirely sideways. “My...Self-confidence?”

“Him?” Mineta said, head snapped up to look at her with just as much shock as Shoto felt.

“Mmhm! It’s nothing to be ashamed of, of course. We all went through it...Why, it was a big part of why I did the whole R-Rated thing. It was my way of pushing back against what people thought of me, and my own worries about it.”

“I see,” Shoto said, choosing his words carefully. “I’m afraid there’s been some mistake. I’ll be sure to keep this meeting and its participants confidential,” he said, standing up from his chair, “but I really must be going.” He reached the door, pulling it open firmly before—

Midnight’s trademark long-range whip snapped out, the end wrapping firmly around the handle. In a single yank, the door slammed shut in front of him, and the weapon sprang back into its wielder’s hand with ease.

Nemuri gave an ever so slight smile, coiling the whip back up. She set it down next to her desk, with the flogger she preferred for close-quarters. There was no shame in a little show of power. “I disagree, Todoroki-kun. And seeing as I’m the teacher, please, come sit back down.”

The boy came right back, and Nemuri watched him carefully...Had she pushed a little too far? A comically hyperbolic bullwhip was a very different thing from fire, but...

But if there was something, Todoroki-kun either didn’t associate the actions, or suppressed his reaction thoroughly.

All questions to be breached, in time. She took a deep breath, focusing on the two of them in the here and now once again. “Now then, I’d like to learn a bit more about the two of you for today. And then we can see how things look going forward. How does that sound?”

Second session

Once again the pro hero Midnight was at her desk, and once again she was frowning. She had just a few minutes until ‘free study’ began...Which was to say, when all the various kids who needed a little help got sent to their respective secret meetings.

She was just glad they’d pushed back the first hero classes by a week. From what little she’d heard of Hound Dog’s efforts this morning with his pair of what Shouta called ‘problem children’...

Nemuri shook her head, trying to focus. She needed to keep her attention on these two. Already, she’d figured out enough to know they needed almost polar opposite responses. Todoroki-kun would need to be coaxed out of his shell. But Mineta-kun...That boy needed to be pushed.

And she had what she needed to push the hell out of him.

There came a knock on her door, and she perked right up. “Door’s open!”

Ah, and there were her ‘problem children’, right on schedule! Todoroki-kun led this time, with Mineta-kun trailing right behind him. She watched the both of them, seeing the way they both acted...But perhaps her attention was a bit more on Mineta—kun.

He had more tells.

It was a thing that was hard to spot in the full chaos of a classroom, but she saw the way he acted in the halls. He was always watching, and his...behavior, would get dialed up to eleven around certain kinds of people.

Which was to say, Mineta-kun acted a lot more like a little perv around the sort of people who thought that was funny or relatable.

But trailing behind Todoroki-kun, who didn’t know how to respond to his classmate’s actions, Mineta-kun dialed down. He dialed down by a lot, actually. “Good afternoon, Kayama-sensei,” Mineta-kun said, looking like he was feeling out the words.

Feeling out approval.

“Good afternoon, Kayama-sensei,” Todoroki-kun said as well, rather more confident in the statement.

She smiled as the two boys sat down. “And good afternoon to the two of you! How was your second day? Aizawa-sensei didn’t expel anyone, did he?”

Nemuri, of course, knew that he had not.

Mineta-kun still tensed up. “H-He doesn’t...really do that. Does he?”

“Less than he claims. I’ll let you boys in on a secret, he does that ‘logical ruse’ thing every year. Between you and me, I think he just loves a chance to be funny without hurting his scary image,” Nemuri said, acting like she really was sharing an illicit secret.

It did the job, though. The pair of them both visibly relaxed, even if she had to look more closely for the signs in Todoroki-kun. She smiled, clapping her hands together. “Now then! We only have so much time, so let’s get into it...I’d like to ask the both of you about why you want to be heroes, and why you applied to UA.”

She saw Mineta-kun flinch.

Just as she expected.

So she turned her gaze to the duo-toned boy next to him. “Could you start us off, Todoroki-kun?”

Todoroki-kun, for his part, gave a simple shrug. “I thought we already covered this in the enrollment interview.”

“We did, but it’s important to check in on these things now and again...Especially now that you’re in,” Nemuri said.

She watched their reactions very carefully, under a casual guise.

And there it was. Todoroki-kun tensed ever so slightly. Just the tiniest bit. At a glance, it didn’t even look like he’d gotten tense, just shifted a little...But she saw the way he carried himself changed. “I want to be a hero so I can make a difference,” he said, simple and to the point.

Now, was that extra bit of focus, of tension, because he was just that serious? Or was there something he was burying very well? Questions, questions...

Nemuri gave a smile. “And that’s what we’re here to help you to do. Now, why UA specifically? I know we strive to be the best, but not just anyone tries to be in that category...”

It didn’t miss her attention that Mineta-kun was showing a lot more tension than Todoroki-kun, despite not even being the one she was focused on yet.

But Todoroki-kun took just a moment to breathe, as if he was pondering the answer. “UA was the only school where that my father would give his recommendation for, as a working pro. It just made sense to take the open path.”

Ah.

There, it, was. She heard that slip. Todoroki-kun had been about to say something else, when he referred to his father. The boy didn’t stumble over his words often, and he’d been so smooth about his recovery that it could have easily been brushed off.

But...Well, Endeavor’s reputation? The weight on legacy kids? That burn scar?

Nemuri was adding that little sliver of information to the report.

But she’d have to take her time getting more out of him. “Of course. And you certainly proved yourself in the recommendation test.” For now, her attention turned to her other guest. “How about you, Mineta-kun?”

The boy damn near yelped. “Who, me? I just...Pff, you know,” he said, waving off her question with a roll of his eyes, “I’m just here to be cool and pick up cute girls.”

Nemuri nodded along, casually sliding a folder towards the center of her desk. She saw his eyes latch onto it, full of uncertainty despite his little display of bravado.

Now, now came the push. “Is that so, Mineta-kun?”

“Um...Yes...?” he offered, all his casual ease slipping away. He watched her open up the folder, no longer bothering to be subtle about it. “What’s that there, Kayama-sensei...?”

“Oh, this?” She smiled. “I just did a little research. See, Mineta-kun, I remember you giving that same answer for our enrollment interviews. But the thing is...It doesn’t quite add up.”

Mineta-kun froze in his seat, his eyes wide and searching. He looked to the door, like he was considering it. But his eyes dropped to her bullwhip, right there in grabbing range.

He would never make it out in time.

Then, Minoru’s gaze was dragged back in front of him, to the desk. Where Kayama-sensei was sliding a sheet of paper out of that damned folder.

It was a printout.

Of a map.

Of central Japan.

Oh no.

“So, Mineta-kun,” Kayama-sensei started, “I’m sure you recognize this area.” She took out a marker, and drew a quick circle around one of the colorful dots scattered across the map. “Can you tell me what this dot here is?”

Feeling so stiff his joints might have squeaked, or maybe that was just him, Minoru shook his head.

Kayama-sensei sighed. “Todoroki-kun, how about you?”

That red and white traitor to the cause leaned over the paper, clearly unaware of the importance of what he was being asked despite being so damn smart and knowing exactly what he was supposed to say and never having to— “That’s Ketsubutsu Academy,” Todoroki-san said, as Minoru’s stomach quietly dropped into the school basement.

Kayama-sensei gave a little clap. “Very good, Todoroki-kun! Do you like stickers? I do actually have stickers.” She even had one of her desk drawers open!

“I’m not a fan,” he said, as if he hadn’t just broken Minoru’s entire life right open.

“Alright, no stickers.” She popped the drawer shut, and then those cruel viper eyes were right back on Minoru. “Now, the thing is...Somewhere around, ohhh, here, is Mineta-kun’s address,” she said, and tapped her marker on a spot well inside the circle. “Am I right?”

Minoru considered the possibility that he could jam one of his grapes into his mouth, so he wouldn’t have to, couldn’t, talk. It worked once!

In kindergarten.

And they took him to the hospital to have it removed with Quirk-rejecting tools.

...So, he ever so reluctantly nodded.

“Mmhm,” she said, tapping the cap-end of her marker on the treacherous map. “So, if you were a glory-hound, Ketsubutsu is still very respectable...They haven’t turned out very many top-5 heroes, but a decent few top-10, and plenty of top-25. That’s still on the star charts, isn’t it, Todoroki-kun?”

Todoroki, still not getting it, nodded along. “In the weekly roundup. Oh, but the newspaper covers all the way to 100 in the hero section.”

Kayama-sensei gave a little chuckle, before her eyes were back on Minoru. “Newspapers, can you believe they still make those?” she said, some bad attempt at a joke to placate his undying horror, “But my point is, if it was all glory, you were right next door to a very good academy. So why sit on a train for, hold on I have the timetables right here...” she trailed off, pulling out another paper from the folder of doom, “three hours round-trip, if you catch the bullet train, to come to UA? Is it for the girls?”

Minoru latched onto the offering like a lifeline. “Y-Yes, yeah, that’s it! You know me, just, crazy about ‘em, and since UA’s the best schools, it’ll, have, the best...hotties?” his voice shrank with each word he said, into a tiny little squeak.

Because he realized, it wasn’t a lifeline. It wasn’t a lifeline at all.

It was a snare trap!

“Well well well! That just seems even more strange, Mineta-kun, because if you were just looking for girls...Why, there’s a whole bevy of choices between you and UA,” Kayama-sensei said, as she started circling more of the dots...Each and every one a hero school. Oh god, why were there so many dots?!

And yet, she just kept going. “Oh, oh this one would have been perfect, Mineta-kun! Did you know Seiai Academy only became a co-ed school this year? Two full grades entirely full of girls, and their new enrollments only turned out to be twenty percent male! It seems like an obvious choice, really...Unless, you’re being dishonest with me? You know this doesn’t work if you’re dishonest, Mineta-kun,” she said, one last push against everything the boy had built up.

And Minoru cracked wide open. “I came here so I could prove myself, okay?! I didn’t want to go to Ketsubutsu because everyone goes to Ketsubutsu and I had to prove I was worth something, that I wasn’t just the purple loser that people threw wadded up paper at until they stuck to my head! Is that what you want to hear?!” he finally shouted, all of it coming out so loudly, with so much real emotion, that Todoroki had actually leaned away from it in his chair.

But Kayama-sensei, having successfully broken him down and forced all the messiness out, just smiled. Not that teacher smile she’d been using, or that sadistic one she used on villains...It was, it was a kind and gentle one, like the one his mom gave him when she told him she’d figure out how to pay for the bullet-train pass so he could make it to class every day.

Kayama-sensei gave him that kind of smile, one full of understanding and warmth, as she grasped his hand. “Yes. Because now that things are in the open, Mineta-kun, we can work on them. You’re worth something. You both are. And I’m going to help you prove it.”

Chapter Text

First session

The pro hero Hound Dog, Inui Ryo, sat in front of his computer and tried not to grimace. He tried not to paw at a muzzle that wasn’t there, because he wasn’t in his hero suit, and he tried not to need the muzzle. He breathed deeply, and slowly, trying to center himself.

If even a fraction of what they suspected turned out to be true...No. He took in another deep breath, and focused. These were children. Children who needed their counselor and therapist, not a raging beast tearing down upon a school that almost certainly deserved its place in the Red Folder.

So. Breathe. Focus. Center.

A knock came upon the door, so soft that Ryo almost doubted he’d heard it. Oh, he had certainly heard it, his ears were far too sensitive for it to have gone unnoticed. But it was well below what anyone would do if they actually wanted to be heard.

Something to work on, then. Oh, he had a list of things to be worked on, and not all of them with him. “Come in,” he called, trying to keep the guttural gruffness out of his voice.

As soon as the door swung open, Ryo knew their core assumption was correct.

Because this small, nervous, yet deeply interested boy with fluffy green hair could not possibly be what his records described him as. “H-Hello, Inui-sensei! I was told to come to meet with you...Is, this a bad time? If you’re busy with work I can, just, go...”

Ryo gave a single kick against the floorboards, and his office chair rolled away from the computer desk until he was sitting in the center of the room. “You’re exactly who I wanted to see, Midoriya-kun. You want the couch or one of the chairs?” he asked, gesturing to the furniture around his office.

The Meeting

One Week Ago

Ryo frowned to himself, looking at the data on the students they were bringing in. There was a good few of them, and almost everyone would get at least a once-over during the next few weeks. Which meant his office would be very busy.

But today was still important. Today was still what the teachers would just call The Meeting. One, single, massive meeting that ran through the entire shift, in which they did not stop until they had gone over every single one of the kids coming into the heroics course. Until they’d at least checked in on each of the returning hero classes. The other courses, of course, mattered just as much...

They just weren’t going to be brawling with their classmates next Friday.

Which was, at least, better than Tuesday.

So the hero course needed to be brought to the front of the line.

Ryo understood it completely. He just didn’t like it.

He tuned out the conversations, something about the ones Kayama-san was going to be taking under her wing, and focused on the student records.

Which explained why he noticed when one boy’s took longer to open than usual. It wasn’t much, not even a full second. If he’d looked up when he tapped on the boy’s face, he probably wouldn’t have noticed.

But he certainly noticed the sheer size of the file. Pulls of disciplinary records were standard, and sure, some kids coming in had longer than others, plenty needed a little more structure and discipline to break bad habits...But this? It was massive. One single long swipe just sent the file scrolling, so fast he couldn’t read more than a few scattered words.

...started fight...disruptive...noises...false accu...

If he read any more, he’d just get angry. And then he’d be fighting for his own language centers to settle back into a human state.

So instead he looked up, found Aizawa-san in the room. “Tell me about...Midoriya Izuku.”

It did not escape Ryo’s notice that their newest teacher, Yagi-san, flinched.

Aizawa-san perked up, ever so slightly. Just enough to show he heard, as he considered his words. “...That boy is an enigma wrapped in red flags.”

“I’m looking at his records. How did he even get enrolled?”

“Because they don’t match,” Aizawa-san said.

“Please elaborate, Aizawa-san,” Nezu said. He took a sip from that seemingly ever-present tea of his, before his paws were steepled once again. “You were in the room for his enrollment interview, can you speak to any more subtle information than the transcripts show?”

Aizawa-san leaned forward, giving the room his full attention. “The first thing he said when he entered the room was to ask if ‘the girl from the exam’ was okay. The second thing he said was, and I quote, ‘oh my god, you’re Eraser Head, that’s so cool.’”

Ryo paused. He looked back down to his tablet, to one of the pages that happened to stop scrolling on. One that showed yet another documented instance of this Midoriya-kun starting a fight, jumping a first-year in the stairwells by what the paperwork said.

“—actually recognized you?” Yamada-san laughed, wrapping an arm around Aizawa-san’s shoulder. “Since when do the kids recognize this grumpy face?”

Aizawa-san just shrugged him off, putting his attention back to his own tablet. “And, if you’ll bring up the file on his former classmate, Bakugou-kun...”

Said file promptly appeared on the big screen. Where Nezu didn’t even bother to scroll, letting it sit on the blonde’s cocky grin and basic informational readout.

“Is there more?” Ryo asked.

Nezu simply shook his head. “His record is spotless. Not even a tardy day. But I believe you were leading us to a conclusion, Aizawa-san?”

“We have another school for the Red Folder,” Aizawa-san said, letting out a tired and grumbling sigh.

A wave of uncomfortable contemplations went through the room, as happened every time this suggestion came up. Uncomfortable contemplations, and increasing fatigue, every time that damn folder got a little more full.

At least, until Yagi-san raised a hand, looking around uncertainly. “Pardon me, but...what is the Red Folder?”

Nezu set down his tea cup, and loosed a sigh of his own. “A bit of a colloquial name that’s stuck. Unfortunately, UA is a very prestigious school, such that even having a student you once taught eventually enter our halls can be very...beneficial. As such, some schools will be more generous with their students who have potential, to help them make it here...Which can leave behaviors uncorrected.”

Yagi-san frowned deeply. “But I know—I’ve met young Midoriya, I can vouch for his character! He, perhaps is a bit quick to rush to someone’s aid, but—“

Aizawa-san held up his hand, cutting the new hire off. “What Nezu isn’t saying on the record, is these schools will also pin the things they can’t brush away onto the students without ‘potential’. We have to effectively start from scratch in analyzing everything from their behavioral records, to their Quirk submissions, to their basic personalities.”

And that was when the eyes turned to Ryo.

It was his turn to sigh, knowing he had a lot of work on his plate now. “I’ll take ‘em on. If their school is Red Folder material, I’d want them in my office besides.”

Now

Ryo frowned to himself, looking over the papers in his hands. Sure, he had the tablet, or his computer, but paper was just...easier. Especially with a rap sheet this thick. There were so many reported incidents, so goddamned many on this boy’s record. How to cut through it all...

...Fuck it. Start with the kid himself. “Midoriya-kun,” he said, looking to where the boy had picked one of the smaller chairs.

“Y-Yes?” the boy asked, all nerves and tension. Ryo’s senses could just about pick up the scent of stress and adrenaline coming off of him, which could only mean downright absurd amounts were in his bloodstream.

“I want to start by promising you two things. One, whatever we talk about, unless I have to report criminal behavior, will not leave this room. Any secrets you share with me, stay with me.”

Midoriya-kun nodded along, almost automatically. Like he’d heard it before.

Which wasn’t great. “And two,” Ryo said, holding up the thick document he’d printed out, “I’ve already seen your school records. But it’s in the past. I’m not going to punish you for things you did before you got here.”

He watched the boy, carefully. Took in every detail he could.

Midoriya-kun went through a wave of emotions there. Fear. Panic. A massive fight-or-flight response. Then the back half of his statement...And the boy became confused, uncertain, anxious over frightened. “I’m, not being expelled?” he finally asked.

Damn that Aizawa-san’s logical ruses.

But Ryo focused, and shook his head. “We’re interested in how you behave here and now. A lot can change in just a year for a boy your age...You wouldn’t be the first one who ended up in my office with a record like this, having finally gotten a wake-up call at the end of a troubled middle schooling. But...” Ryo leaned forward, until he was down to eye level with the boy. “I have a theory.”

“A theory?” This was new territory for Midoriya-kun, that much was obvious. Whatever counselors and therapists and school officials he’d talked to before, none of them had presented things quite like this.

Ryo nodded. “Just a theory. Those boys, they tend to carry more of the weight of acting like this,” he said, gesturing with the document. “They don’t end up in my office full of anxiety and fear. They end up in it with bravado and arrogance. So, I’m going to ask this one time, Midoriya-kun. And more than anything else we talk about going forward, I need you to be honest with me. So I can help you be the best hero possible. Is this record from your previous school accurate?”

Midoriya-kun bit his lip. He hesitated. He started to murmur to himself, so quiet and fractured that even Ryo’s hearing only picked up enough to get the gist. Mentions of teachers, another counselor, questions of if things would be different here...A single nickname stood out. Kacchan.

But finally, the boy looked him back in the eye, and forced himself to take a breath. “May I see it?” he finally asked, looking like a child trying to assert himself for the very first time.

Which, he almost certainly was. “Of course.” Ryo passed the document over, watching as Midoriya-kun started to flip through it.

He saw the look of horror on the boy’s face, only a page or two in. “Th-This isn’t...I’m...I would never...”

“That’s what I thought.” Ryo reached out for the document, which Midoriya-kun was quick to hand back to him. To not have to look at it anymore. He made a point of reaching back, dropping it onto his desk out of sight. “So, now that I know I’m not working with a bully and a braggart, we can make these sessions useful for...”

His ears perked up at the distant sound of...Was someone making popcorn?

No, popcorn didn’t come with the sound of a backfiring engine. And popcorn didn’t make small, green-haired boys yelp and freeze up in his office.

The sound came up to his door fast, so fast that he was scarcely ready for the door to be slammed open. And there was one Bakugou Katsuki, holding the singed and crumpled form of a summons note. “Why the fuck am I supposed to come down here?!” he shouted, smoke still pouring off his hands.

“K-Kacchan! You, we shouldn’t just...” Midoriya-kun trailed off, looking to Ryo desperately.

All the pieces fell into place, and Ryo stood to his full height. “Bakugou-kun. I believe I asked for you and your classmate promptly at the hour. It is now fifteen past the hour. Why the delay?” He kept his voice gentle, calm...But there was his gruffness, his roughness, weighted underneath it.

“Because I shouldn’t fucking need to be down here! I was telling that to Aizawa!” he said, full of fire and rage...

And confusion.

Ryo could see it in his eyes. In both their eyes. This was not how they thought it was supposed to go.

He understood the puzzle, then.

Now he just had to figure out if he could fix both of these boys, or only the one. Ryo took a breath, forced down the feral growl before it could slip past his throat. “If you’re questioning your teacher’s recommendation on the very first day, you need me more than you think. Sit down, Bakugou-kun, and let’s get to know eachother,” he said, with a smile that bared sharp teeth more than strictly necessary.

Fourth Session

Unfortunately for Ryo, he was not having the depth of luck that he’d heard from Kayama-san or Aizawa-san with their projects. Kayama-san had gotten a real breakthrough with one of her students, and Aizawa-san was making real, steady progress already! On the one hand, he was proud of them both for getting through to the kids, to say nothing of the pride he felt for the students themselves in making such leaps and bounds.

On the other hand.

He had to suppress a growl or a bark every time he thought of the twice-damned name of Aldera Middle School. The amount of damage that place had done to these boys, and the amount he was having to undo...

He sighed, which came out with a rumble of bestial frustration. “Bakugou-kun. I’m going to explain this one more time. Midoriya-kun deserves to be in this school. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t. Your old school lied to you. Can you just, for your own sake, accept we made the correct choice, so we can all move on?”

“Bullshit!” Bakugou-kun promptly said, right on schedule. “I’ve heard everyone talk between classes! If this shitty nerd deserves to be here, then how come he couldn’t get a single point in the entrance exam, huh? ‘Rescue points’ my ass—“

“BAKUGOU-KUN!” Ryo shouted, slamming his hands upon the desk.

Well, really, he barked.

So it came out more as “GARGOUROU-GRUN!”

But the point was firmly made, as the boy flinched...And, of course, tried to look like he hadn’t flinched.

...Fuck it, once again. He’d gotten some progress with Midoriya-kun that first day with the direct approach. Maybe he’d get Bakugou-kun to at least quiet down with some real, hard evidence of something.

His own limits.

Ryo went through ten of the longest seconds of his life, as he did his breathing exercise to get his vocal centers back into enunciation territory. When he was finally satisfied, he reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a small device and dropping it in front of the two boys. “Midoriya-kun. You’re a smart kid. You have any idea what that is?”

He watched them both. He saw Bakugou-kun recognize it first, and freeze.

Yep.

But Midoriya-kun was too busy looking at it, too fascinated now that he had an opportunity to actually use his brain instead of getting shut down at every turn. “It’s...A wireless earbud, I think?” He picked it up carefully, eyeing it. “But heavier than the ones I usually...Wait! I know this logo! Of course, these are AuralTech, I used to see their commercials all the time when I was a kid. They’re leave-in hearing protection! Yeah, see, they’re noise canceling past a certain point, and they work like hearing aids too if you need it. Basically every hero with a Quirk that didn’t come with secondary protection wears something like these, if you don’t you practically...go...deaf...”

Midoriya-kun finally happened to look over. And see the way Bakugou-kun was completely locked up, more tense and clenched than he’d ever been in his life, staring straight ahead.

Giving the green-haired boy a perfect view of the small, skin-color-matched earbud tucked in deep, where it was nearly impossible to see.

A flicker of memory ran through Midoriya Izuku’s mind like a freight train.

It was a bit after Kacchan got his Quirk. A year, maybe two. Those commercials had started being on all the time, even hitting during cartoons sometimes.

There’d been a day where he’d been at their house, back before Kacchan really pushed him away. Auntie Mitsuki had been wrangling the pair of them, keeping enough snacks and drinks going that neither got restless for too long. One of those commercials had come on, and Izuku tuned it right out to work on eating as many of his little cookies as he could before Kacchan stole the rest.

But he’d seen the way she paused when she’d dropped things off. Had she...She’d written something down, hadn’t she? Those commercials always had a phone number, a dumb catchy jingle about getting tested and fitted early.

The next time he saw Kacchan after that was at school...And the boy had been even rowdier and grumpier than usual. He hadn’t just pushed Izuku away that day, but even the rest of his little posse, trying to stay on his own the whole day. It had faded after a couple days, and everything kind of went back to normal...but...

The pieces slid right into place.

Izuku forced himself not to say anything. Not to set off his classmate, his first friend and longtime...Rival? Bully? Companion? Whatever they were, really, he couldn’t risk it.

Inui-sensei finally sat down, looking tired. “Bakugou-kun. I know you’re mad at me right now, but understand, I am not trying to humiliate or shame you.”

A bitter, harsh laugh slipped out of Kacchan. A sound that shouldn’t have come from him, shouldn’t have been able to be made by this wellspring of confidence and power.

But Inui-sensei just kept going. “Because support isn’t something to be ashamed of. You wear protectors like this because it’s sensible. Because your own power could blow out your eardrums if you didn’t. And Midoriya-kun will have to do the same.”

“I will?” Izuku said. Wait, what? How did One For All lead to needing hearing protection?

Inui-sensei gave him the briefest nod. “I’ve shown the both of you the footage from his exam. You knowwhat his quirk does to his body. Yes, Midoriya-kun will need to wear support gear, something to prevent his bones from shattering, just like you wear a pair of these. There is no shame here, Bakugou-kun. There is no hierarchy. I want to help you. These protectors are proof you can accept help.”

“It’s, not that fucking simple!” Kacchan cried, his voice ragged and furious and...quivering.

Izuku had never heard Kacchan’s voice quiver.

“Then talk to me, boy! Tell me why it isn’t simple! We’ve done this for four days and the only reason I know your name is because it’s on your ID badge!”

They did not make much further progress in the rest of the session.

But it was a start.

Fifth Session - Bakugou

Bakugou Katsuki sat in the dog’s office, clutching his lunch close to him. He’d been ordered (‘asked to come down’, bullshit, it was an order) into this room, for the fifth time this week. He wasn’t an idiot, of course; he’d noticed the extra papers everyone got at the end of that first day.

The way all the others bundled up into groups of two or three at the end of the day and ran off in different directions, no matter who they’d been chatting with and hanging out with any other time.

How he’d ended up here at the end of his first day, with Deku.

And he knew heroism fundamentals was, finally, happening right after lunch today.

Which meant he’d been called here, on his own, over lunch, for a reason, and the two had to be connected.

He stared the mutt down, eyes bright with anger and hands simmering with fury. “You going to expel me?” he asked, ready to fight to stay. Maybe literally, if it came to it. He’d prove he deserved to be here—

“No, Bakugou-kun. You’re not being expelled, or suspended, or even held back from today’s heroism fundamentals exercise.”

“Then why the fuck am I here?” Katsuki countered. He made himself take a bite of his lunch, refusing to admit his stomach was turning. He was not scared of whatever this lapdog could do to him.

He wasn’t.

“So we can talk, without Midoriya-kun distracting you.”

“Talk about what? You won’t give me a goddamned straight answer! And that nerd isn’t ‘distracting’ me!” Katsuki would not admit how yesterday had eaten at him. It hadn’t. He was better than that. Stronger.

He had to be.

“Alright. I’ll guide, then. Tell me about Aldera Middle School.”

Katsuki froze up. Not out of fear, never fear, but just confusion. “...The fuck does my old school have to do with anything?”

“Just indulge me, Bakugou-kun. I’m trying to learn.”

“It was...” Katsuki searched his mind for the right word. “...I don’t know, it was fuckin’ fine, I guess. It was school. Bunch of shitty teachers who were just waiting to retire.”

The mutt leaned forward at that, looking interested. “What makes you say that? That’s a very specificcomplaint.”

“Tch.” Katsuki took another bite of his noodle bun, the only meal he’d had time to grab and go to get down here in time. “They didn’t do a goddamned thing for anyone. Just recited out of the books. Out of oldbooks. My history book still thought Alaska was attached.”

That got a whistle out of the dog. “The Fracture happened when I was a pup. That’s one outdated book.”

“Right? I had to look shit up myself if I wanted to know a damn thing!” Katsuki said, commiserating with Inui for a brief moment. At least he’d finally gotten what Katsuki dealt with.

But then the fucker nodded, and started talking again. “So I’ve seen your grades...You made it work. How did they do with the kids who weren’t as on top of the material?”

Katsuki frowned to himself. This was leading him somewhere. The lapdog had even said he was gonna lead. Guide. Whatever. The point was, he wasn’t in control here...But shutting down would just mean more lunches in here instead of with those extras, wouldn’t it.

So, fine. He’d go along. For now. “...They did even less.”

“You already said they didn’t do a goddamned thing for you. How could they do even less?”

There it was. Katsuki knew where he was being led, now. He saw it clear as day, even if he didn’t know the purpose. This was all about something in his past, something between him and a certain little nerd.

But he was in too deep now to just lock up. Because now, the lapdog had enough to go ask Deku anything Katsuki left out.

He looked to the clock. Maybe half an hour left. He just had to run out the time. “They’d...Look the other way. There was this one extra who hung around me a lot, tried to ride my coattails. He was having a hard time in math, but every fuckin’ time he’d try and ask questions the teacher just acted like she hadn’t even heard him.”

“And so we find one of the roots of your struggles, Bakugou-kun,” the mutt said.

Wait.

What?

Katsuki blinked, too boggled to be mad. “What the hell are you talking about?” He wasn’t struggling!

He couldn’t be.

That was impossible.

He tried too hard to be struggling.

“Your old school encouraged a hierarchical way of thinking. Not just hierarchical, but one with a cutoff. Sink or swim. Kids whose potential wasn’t obvious, or didn’t fit their needs, thrown by the wayside and ignored...”

That...But...

All his teachers had been like that.

Fuck, Aizawa threatened to expel them the first day! At least he was honest about it!

Wasn’t that just how teachers were?

How the world was? “...But...” Katsuki strained, searched for more words. Something more solid. This didn’t make sense. He’d expected the mutt to be leading him to some big fuckin’ revelation of how he’d been shitty to Deku, but that was just how the world worked! Right?!

“But what? You told me yourself they were shitty teachers, Bakugou-kun. And I agree. I’ve just met enough teachers to know exactly how shit these ones are,” the...Inui, said.

Katsuki just stared.

It felt like a gear had slipped loose in his head. Like the basic shape of how things were supposed to work had gotten knocked free.

A small alarm rang on Inui’s desk. “Ah, but that’s time. You should get back to class. Since you saw me already today, your attendance at the end of the day with Midoriya-kun is optional...But I think we could make some real progress if you came.”

“Y, yeah, sure, whatever,” Katsuki muttered, pulling himself up out of the chair. Things weren’t adding up anymore. Something wasn’t...

Something in his life wasn’t right.

Chapter Text

Aizawa Shouta, who absolutely preferred to avoid being referred to as Eraserhead, did not have the luxury of sitting and waiting for his picks to come to him. After all, even on the very first day of class, he could tell he had ended up with a batch of utter hellions. So while some people were able to just send off their homeroom classes at the end of the day right on schedule, he was barely keeping up with the bell.

Such was his lot in life.

But no matter how much his sleeping bag, or the coffee machine in the teacher’s lounge, or just fucking home all called to him, he had work to do. Shouta gathered up a stack of papers, checking ever-so-briefly to ensure he had them in the right order. “Before I let you escape, I have something for each of you to look over. This is our preliminary syllabus for the year, everything we’ll be trying to go over and what is expected in all of your classes.”

He stepped forward, starting to pass out packets...And with each and every one of them, a slip of paper to tell each student where to go. “Each of you need to go through this now, because I will remind you that heroes are expected to be strong in mind as well as body.”

Shouta heard the students who groaned at that. He made note of which ones were so intimidated by education.

Practiced hands and quick eyes ensured he kept the packets in order, that everyone got the one that was for them. Already, he saw some of the students closer to the front of the classroom looking at the slip on top, seeing the request for them to go meet with someone or other...

Of course, two of those slips simply said wait to see me after class. As soon as he got the rest of these chaotic teenagers out of here, he could deal with the ones he’d pulled aside, start to work on their problems.

...And then Bakugou Katsuki received his packet, saw the slip, and immedately stared him down. “Who the fuck is Hound Dog and why’ve I gotta go see him, huh?” he asked, meeting Shouta’s gaze with sheer adolescent fury.

Gods above and devils below, save him from fifteen year old boys.

Ah. Well. Any deities were clearly not listening to Shouta’s polite request, which left him to deal with Bakugou on his own. Of course. “Because it is part of UA protocol. And was intended to remain private, but if you insist on speaking on this openly...”

And that was how the next fifteen minutes of his life went. Students started filing out, with Shouta just passing them their matching packet as they slipped away from this utterly absurd argument.

He also noted the simple fact that Midoriya Izuku went around the perimeter of the classroom, rather than cut a straight line up past Bakugou and himself.

Something to touch base with Inui-san about.

If he ever managed to get out of whatever this small, angry blonde was trying to accomplish here.

But eventually, somewhere just shy of the point at which all quirk evolution ultimately turned humanity into crabs, Bakugou finally stomped off in a huff.

And Shouta was left with his two projects of choice, sitting there very awkwardly and with no idea of what to do.

He sighed, something between relief and resignation, and looked the both of them over. He supposed they deserved an explanation, didn’t they? “Come on. I’ll explain everything on the way.”

The Meeting

Shouta eyed the full hero course roster, but he was paying extra close attention to the ones who would be in his class. Not out of any favoritism, but out of the simple, blunt fact that he would be dealing with all of them in a week. Even if he didn’t take any of them under his wing directly, this was his best chance to know what all he was dealing with.

There were countless uncertainties and problems, just looking at the children’s basic data...And of course, he hadn’t stopped with that. He had pulled their test footage. Their full test footage, not just the highlight reels. Eighteen auto-tracked runs through the entrance exam, and two recommendation exam efforts, had taken quite a bit of time to watch.

But it showed him things. It showed him the way some of them rushed ahead. How others hesitated. One child in particular, had a quirk so dangerously destructive that he’d traded three fucking limbs for a shot at the zero-pointer. If that one hadn’t come out of a Red Folder school...

He shook his head, and picked up his coffee mug for another pull.

Ah.

It was empty.

Because he had emptied it.

Naturally.

Time to wrap his part in the meeting, then. So when a lull in the conversation came, Shouta leaned right into it. “I’m taking Yaoyorozu Momo and Kaminari Denki. If you look at their respective exam footage, she hesitates at every step of the recommendation exam’s practical course, and he fries himself on the first cluster of entrance exam robots he finds.”

Simple, blunt, to the point. No small mammals making him draw it out for the drama of it all.

First session

Shouta led the two children all the way to Gym Gamma. In a few months’ time, they’d be in here with Ishiyama-san helping to create a perfect training landscape...But today, simple flat concrete was exactly what he needed. “Each year, the heroes go over the full roster of incoming students, and identify where each student will most benefit from more direct mentorship. I chose the both of you.”

Yaoyorozu raised her hand. Of course she was that type of diligent student. Of course. It explained everything. “Um, sensei, did I make mistakes in my exam, or the quirk test from today...?” she asked, fishing out for the thing she could Correct.

While Kaminari gave a very particular sort of laugh, the laugh you only gave when you were resigned to the joke you were going to make being the actual truth. “No way, Yaoyorozu-san. You did the recommendation exam, right? You’ve gotta be super smart. I bet you’re just here to help tutor this dumbass,” he said, jerking both thumbs at his own chest.

Yep.

Shouta’s read on these two was exactly what he’d expected.

Time to curb small problems before they became large. “Incorrect. You both made the same fundamental error in your actions in the practicals. And I’m going to show you that error, right here,” he said, finally reaching the gym doors. A swipe of his ID card turned the lock’s LED from red to green, and he pushed his way in quite unceremoniously.

Only when the doors swung shut with a click, and he knew the three of them were alone, did he turn to face them. He wasn’t going to potentially humiliate the children in front of their peers, not now. “We have a lot of ground to cover, and less time than I’d like to cover it, so I’ll be direct. You both have performance anxieties, and both need to learn the same fundamental lesson of thinking on your feet. Kaminari. Come at me with everything you have.”

A moment of pure, confused silence passed over the room.

Denki looked between Yaoyorozu-san, and Aizawa-sensei, trying to parse what was going on here. This wasn’t...Was this another one of those ‘logical ruse’ things Aizawa-sensei had used on them today?

“I’m waiting,” Aizawa-sensei said, snapping Denki’s attention back to him.

Oh.

Oh no.

He meant it.

Standing there, hands at his sides, looking like he did not care at all—There, right there Aizawa-sensei held back a yawn, that was how little he cared about whatever Denki was gonna do!

...Well.

Okay, so the guy was a pro hero, and a teacher. He’d seen a lot of kids like Denki.

Expelled a lot of them, too, if his idea of a joke was anything like the truth. What was the thing his mom always said? When people show you who they are, believe them.

Well. Aizawa-sensei was showing him exactly who he was.

It was time for Denki to return the favor.

He took a breath, widening his stance. Getting ready. “...Yaoyorozu-san. You’re gonna want to get back.” He heard her take several rapid steps away from him. But his eyes were solely on Aizawa-sensei, watching the man’s eyebrows raise up. He had his attention now, alright.

And so, Denki charged in as fast as he could, electricity humming through his body! That familiar jolt, that feeling of too much energy, the vicious need to act ran through his body as it built up, higher and higher, like a balloon with too much water in it. All it took was a second, a few precious steps, until he had enough! “1.2 million volts!” he cried, slapping his palms against the concrete floor and letting loose.

...Huh.

He didn’t feel the equally familiar sign of his brain short-circuiting and the fog rolling in.

In fact, he kinda just felt...Lethargic, like coming down after drinking too much coffee. Yeah, he had a bad coffee habit at 15, but it was, like, the only thing that let him focus and oh god he wasn’t focusing right now focus Denki.

Denki forced himself to breathe, tugging as hard as he could on the instinctive grasp he had over his own electricity. “1.2 million volts!” he roared, hitting palms upon the concrete again.

It still didn’t work.

And also now his palms were hurting from hitting concrete, like, twice.

Aizawa-sensei cleared his throat, and finally, Denki thought to look up.

To see the man glaring furiously at him with crimson eyes, just like he had done to that Midoriya dude during the apprehension test! So it wasn’t any surprise that Denki found himself stumbling back, because having that aimed at you and shutting off your quirk was, uh, terrifying. Fucking terrifying. Yeah, that was the word.

And then it was over. Aizawa-sensei’s eyes went back to normal. Denki felt the giddy relief of his electricity flooding back to him, hitting his muscles with that slightly-too-much energy that made him feel whole. “Do you understand your mistake, Kaminari?” Aizawa-sensei asked him, keeping his eyes—Oh, wait, he looked behind Denki.

Denki dared to turn and look, and Yaoyorozu-san was holding her hand up like she had the answer. “Uh...” he started, looking back to Aizawa-sensei.

Who was definitely not looking at his classmate now. “I’m asking you, Kaminari,” Aizawa-sensei said.

...Welp.

“I...Uh...Tried fighting a guy who can turn my quirk off?”

“Wrong answer. You tried to self-sacrifice.”

Denki blinked once, twice, and tried to put understanding to words. “I did what now?”

“You used the same technique in the entrance exam, pouring out a completely indiscriminate barrage of electricity...And then proceeded to go into a daze for an entire hour, during which you were effectively unreachable.” Aizawa-sensei reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It is the single most important lesson any of you can learn. Being able to save yourself if everything else fails. I won’t have you being dead weight for your comrades.”

“...Oh.” What else was Denki supposed to say, after that? After being told he was going to be dead weight?

Aizawa-sensei sighed. “I’ll come back to you. Yaoyorozu,” he said, looking to her once again and making her yelp, “you have five seconds to create something and come at me.”

Wait, no, the first thing was a squeak. There was a yelp.

Third session

Momo tried to keep her cool, as she gathered up her things. She was a deeply studious and observant young woman, and as such she had put quite a few bits of data together.

One, all of her classmates seemed to go somewhere for their last period of the day, often in groups of two similar to herself and Kaminari-san. She didn’t know where for most of them, but of course such information was not something she needed. The important thing was that neither herself, nor her classmate, had been singled out.

Two, Aizawa-sensei had been very serious about the idea of her having made this...Fundamental error, he called it. It was, perhaps, a bit unfair of her...But she had honestly thought Kaminari-san might have been correct in thinking she was there as a tutor or aide. Not because the boy was unintelligent, not at all! Just...

Well...

She’d assumed she had a better grasp on things than she did.

The problem, was that her grasp was all theory. Studies, worksheets, experiments. The list of things she could diagram out, figure out every little detail on, and ultimately craft to perfection was massive.

The list of things she could just spit out of her hand without thinking about it, was dominated by office supplies and matryoshka dolls.

Then she froze up the first time Aizawa-sensei told her to attack him, and ended up throwing a pen at him.

So. Three, she would have to figure out some way to make this work, or else she was going to be in a position that was completely untena— “rozu-san? Yaoyorozu-sannnn,” came Kaminari-san’s voice.

And Momo finally shook her head, snapping out of her own thoughts. “Oh, I’m sorry, Kaminari-san! You were saying?”

“...We’re here, and he gave you the keycard.” Kaminari-san pointed to the lock on the doors of Gym Gamma. And indeed, Aizawa-sensei had given her a special guest pass that unlocked the gym doors for them only during designated times. So that they could head straight here, and thus not be obviously waiting for Aizawa-sensei at the end of the day.

It also meant they could strategize. So Momo tried to bring herself back into the moment, and slid the keycard through the lock. She earned herself a delightful little chime, and the doors swung right open. “So then, Kaminari-san...Do you think Aizawa-sensei will have the same sort of test for us today?”

He just shrugged. “I mean, probably. I bet it’s like one of those kung-fu movies, where he won’t teach us the real lesson until we can land a hit on him, but then it’ll turn out that was the real lesson all along and we were picking up martial arts the whole time, wooooo...” Kaminari-san trailed off, catching his breath from the run-on sentence.

“I...Wouldn’t know, I’m afraid,” Momo admitted. She didn’t exactly have time for very many movies, especially not martial arts ones. “Oh, Kaminari-san, could you do me a favor and fill out the time-sheet on the inside door?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure thing,” he said, once he’d seemingly caught up to her words. He turned to take a step, and then paused, patting at his pockets one by one. “Uh...You got a pen? Kinda...Left mine in my bookbag. In my desk. Halfway across campus.”

“Of course.” Momo smiled, feeling a bit more, well, herself at the simple opportunity to help a classmate! She conjured up a nice, understated pen, simple steel body and rollerball tip, passing it over to hi—“Eep!” she cried, jerking her hand back at the sudden jolt she received!

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking, it’s...wait, is this metal?” Kaminari-san asked, looking at the pen now in his grasp. “I, I didn’t need a fancy...Oh my god no wonder mom only buys me plastic pens,” he said, staring at the metal one.

Momo shook her hand loose a few times, as if she could whip the pain away as easily as some water on her fingertips. “Nonsense, Kaminari-san. I should have considered your conductivity before making a pen for you out of...” she trailed off, as something clicked. “Touch my hand with the pen again.”

“Huh?” he looked up, confused. “But...It hurt you.”

“Exactly. And if it does it again...”

“Then...I’ll...Be in trouble for hurting a classmate?” he suggested, sounding very uncertain.

“Not at all. If it does it again, we might have a way to best Aizawa-sensei.” Momo smiled, positive that she might have just found the key to their— “Ow!”

Pen conductivity theory, tested and proven. Yes, it conducted a second time. Yes, it hurt. But she didn’t regret the decision.

Because now they had the start of a plan. And Momo, for all her struggle to think on her feet, was very good at planning.

Shouta stepped into the gym, having made record time today. Which was to say, he had convinced Bakugou to leave and go to his mandated appointment after only ten minutes of arguing. At this rate, by the time they did their first cross-campus field trip, the boy might actually do what he was told!

What a fucking world that would be.

But, good news. His projects had actually shown up to the gym, without his direct supervision. Perhaps there was hope for the next generation after all. “Good, you made it,” he said. Not actual praise yet, of course, they had to earn that. And it wasn’t like they’d...

Oh. They had filled out the time sheet.

...Who in the world was Kami Narikiden supposed to be?

Well, if that didn’t give evidence to what Hizashi had mentioned, then nothing would. He returned the clipboard to its resting place, turning to face his students. The two looked at him expectantly, perhaps even eagerly. Oh, lord, they’d schemed something, hadn’t they?

Time to get them off-balance. “Kaminari. I expect you to give extra effort today, because you will not be joining tomorrow’s session.”

Perhaps he had gone too off-balance, when he saw the look of horror on both of their faces. “Wh-Wha—Sensei! If this is about a class, I can, I mean I know I’m a dumbass but—“ Kaminari started, grasping at thin air. He could see Yaoyorozu waiting for a moment to speak, hand already up like this was a pop quiz and she had to give the answer to...Oh.

Oh dear.

Shouta cleared his throat, digging his chin down amidst his capture weapon to keep the children from seeing his grimace. “Allow me to clarify. You will be, for tomorrow only, having a separate session to clarify some elements of your quirk with one of the school counselors. I would have preferred to not deny you a day of training, but our schedule is full as it is, and Friday is the first Heroism Fundamentals lesson. As such, we cannot delay the work, for your own safety.”

Also, they would be testing him for all manner of secondary expressions of his quirk. There were theories, as teachers had for all their students, but one glance at that time sheet gave Shouta all the evidence he needed. A boy did not misspell his own name and not notice if his eyes were keeping the kanji straight.

But, here in the now, Shouta saw the two of them just deflate as their fears broke apart in front of them. He wasn’t going to expel them yet. They could rest easy for one more day.

Kaminari slid down to his knees, looking like he’d just run a marathon. “Ohhhh my god,” he spilled out, “I thought I was gonna die. Oh fu—jeez, I, kill me now, Yaoyorozu-san.”

“Kaminari-san!” she cried, fresh horror in her eyes.

“Figure of speech. Please don’t actually kill me. I’m just, I think I’m gonna lie down here on the nice soft concrete,” Kaminari said.

“...If you are entirely done being dramatic, Kaminari, you’re up first today. Back on your feet, unless you want me to dock points.”

“We’re being scored?!” the boy cried, scrambling to get solid purchase underneath him. “I’m up I’m up I’m okay, what do I do?” he asked, eyes wide with an excess of energy. And not metaphorically, either; Shouta could see sparks dancing in front of Kaminari’s pupils, his quirk already firing up.

“You come at me.” Shouta slid into a loose fighting stance, fingers twitching for the limp tendrils of his weapon and a hint of crimson firing to life in the back of his sockets.

He was ready.

So when Kaminari came at him, arcs of electricity humming along the boy’s skin, Shouta moved. A step back, a twist, sent that first punch sailing right past him. With just enough room that the electricity didn’t arc, didn’t seek out Shouta as a faster way to the ground.

He’d had more than enough tasers brandished at him, both stolen and handmade, to know just how much room he needed to give.

Kaminari, by contrast, stumbled when his punch didn’t hit. He needed a moment, a precious moment, just to catch himself and plant his feet. To spin on his heel, trying to kick at Shouta with a war-cry.

Again, Shouta avoided it.

Again and again, and again, and again, he avoided what Kaminari brought to the table. Back steps, side steps, ducks and weaves, Shouta moved from one motion to the next like water. Conserving his own energy. Watching. Waiting.

Unless the boy got very lucky, one of two things would happen.

One, he would tire himself out, until he finally had to give the floor to Yaoyorozu.

Or two...

“1.2 million vo—!”

Carbon fiber and fabric held tight around Kaminari’s face, preventing him from finishing the sentence. A scarlet gaze stopped his electricity, forced it back down into the depths of his body silently.

And Shouta held his grip firm, the boy wrapped nearly head to toe in capture weapon. He held for just a moment, just long enough to see Kaminari know he was beaten. For the boy to go loose, and stop struggling.

At that moment, all it took was a flick of the wrist to un-twist the long, fussy scarf from around Kaminari. A quick snap spun it around Shouta himself, until it rested comfortably across his shoulders once more. “Now. What was your mistake this time, Kaminari?”

Kaminari sucked in air, hands on his knees. His whole body gave a shudder, trying to catch up. “I...Tried to self-sacrifice again...sensei,” he said, still trying to get air into his lungs. It was one thing to jog a kilometer, or go through a physical exam; a fight, even a simple mock one like this, was a whole-body workout.

“You also let yourself move too far from your center of balance. Watch my legs during Yaoyorozu’s round. I always keep them spread, and at either side of my core.”

Actionable advice was as close as they’d make him get to actual praise, this early. No, they’d have to be far better, and far more clever, to get that.

Shouta turned to focus on his other project, fairly certain she’d been watching diligently. “Yaoyorozu. Your turn. Five seconds to make something and come at me.” He watched, counting the seconds down in his head. As soon as he hit zero, he’d slam on Erasure; no ‘one last thing’, not like yesterday. She had to lea—

“KAMINARI-SAN, NOW!” she cried, as she threw a metal pipe past Shouta.

He whirled, ready for anything, as the weapon sailed towards Kaminari.

Kaminari, who had not been faking his exhaustion.

So, it was not exactly the most elegant display in front of Shouta. He watched Kaminari try to catch the pipe, electricity already rushing up its length as soon as he touched it.

He also watched Kaminari fumble with his new weapon, the surface still slick and factory-smooth. He slipped, grabbed for it once, caught it, slipped again...

And that was about when that pipe came tumbling down onto Kaminari’s head.

Aizawa-sensei frowned, or at least he probably frowned. Denki couldn’t entirely tell, between the terrifying scarf-thing and the flashlight being aimed directly at his eyes. “Keep your eye on the light,” Aizawa-sensei said, and Denki did his best, despite how very much he was not happy to be staring directly into an LED.

But finally, finally, Aizawa-sensei clicked the button on the thing, and passed it back to Yaoyorozu-san. “Congratulations,” he said, “you successfully lucked out of giving your teammate a concussion.” He turned his focus to Kaminari, eyeing him up one more time. “You still should see Recovery Girl, but you should be fine to finish up here first.”

Yaoyorozu-san just about wilted. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, I just, we had discussed it, I thought he was, I thought you were ready for it Kaminari-san, I should have...”

“It’s fiiine,” Denki said, trying to play off just how much his head actually really was throbbing right now. Hey, good news, no blood! “Barely felt it! We almost had him. It was a great plan.”

“Ah yes, your plan,” Aizawa-sensei said, and sheer fucking terror ran through Denki’s veins like some kind of anti-electricity. “Your plan to, during Yaoyorozu’s designated round, instead pass a metal weapon to the highly conductive Kaminari while my back was turned to him.”

Denki gulped. “I...Whaheyyyy?” he tried, hoping he sounded like he’d short-circuited himself. Maybe he could plead insanity. Or stupidity. Insanpidity. Yes. He would plead insanpidity before the principal when handed his own expulsion form.

Perfect plan.

Had to be better than the one he’d somehow talked Yaoyorozu-san into.

...Did he hear clapping?

He did. He did hear clapping. From Aizawa-sensei. “It was rough, half-cocked, and neither of you had the experience or skill to see it through...But it was clever. Cover both sides, outnumber me while giving Kaminari reach to shore up his greatest limitation. I’m proud of you both.”

Holy shit.

Did Aizawa-sensei, the man who’d mayyyyybe-jokingly (maybe not) threatened to expel them for failing a physical only a couple days ago, just say he was proud of them?

And then Aizawa-sensei lifted his head, and Denki saw the single most truly terrifying smile he had ever seen in his entire goddamned fifteen years of life. “I hope you understand that this means we’ll be skipping to tier two of your lessons from now on.”

...Oh.

Oh they had made a mistake.

Chapter Text

The Class

”I AM HERE!”

Today was the day they’d been waiting for. Today was the day they started really, truly, learning to be heroes. Today was the day they met All Might, number one hero and the symbol of peace, as their new Heroism Fundamentals teacher! A day any child would look forward to with gusto, and would look back on with pride and joy!

There was just one, little, problem.

And it came in the form of a crisp steel case, emblazoned with a huge 19.

Mineta Minoru knew exactly what this case contained. He’d sent the drawings in himself, after all. He knew how they would have used very specific materials, derived from the quirk samples that he’d also been asked to send, to ensure the whole suit rejected his grapes. How the mask was specially designed to slide right around his scalp, meshing clean and creating a single unbroken line. The gloves that were supposed to have just a bit of grip, just enough that the grapes wouldn’t fall out of his hand the way they sometimes did when he was all sweaty.

It was, from a functionality perspective, a fantastic costume.

One little problem.

The centerpiece of the whole thing was a big armored diaper.

Why? Why had he done that?

He knew why.

He thought it would be funny.

He thought he’d get a laugh.

Ha ha, look at the little grape kid in his ridiculous hero costume. Ha ha, you’re alright, grape kid. Yeah, you can sit with us at lunch. We’ll just rag on you a little bit. Less than the bullies, for sure. That’s just how it goes, right?

Except...Kayama-sensei had spent every day of his time here at UA so far, making it very clear that that wasn’t just how it goes. That it didn’t have to be. That he could be more than the funny little grape kid who said insensitive things to get a laugh.

Now, obviously a single week could not undo a lifetime of drilled-in lessons about how the world works, no matter how much this one authority figure insisted those lessons were wrong. But...It could make you think. And pay attention. And really notice some things.

Minoru dared to crack the seal on the case. Just for a moment, just enough to peek in. Maybe they’d rejected his design outright for being too dumb, and had sent him one of those totally generic standard suits that had to exist—

Nope.

There was the big metallic hip piece aaand he slammed the lid back down.

Hard.

It was surprisingly loud, as the biowhatever locks made lots of whirring noises. People were looking, oh god he’d made a mistake, he had made all the mistakes, what was he thinking even trying to get into this damn scho—

“Is something wrong with your costume, young...Mineta?” All Might, the All Might, asked, with that big grin of his that said everything was okay.

Minoru didn’t know whether or not the man knew the lifeline he was giving out, but it was one that Minoru snatched up with both hands. “Err...Y-Yeah. I think I messed up when I sent my stuff in. The...Size is all wrong! Is it alright if I do this lesson in my gym clothes, All Might-sensei?” And wow was that a crazy thing to say out loud. All Might-sensei. Okay, maybe there was some good to being at UA. That was undeniably pretty cool.

All Might cleared his throat, promptly wiping a handkerchief over the fist he’d covered his mouth with. “Of course, young man! Heroism...Does not need special pageantry!” he said, complete with his hands on his hips like in so much merchandise. “And that goes for anyone else with costume troubles! You can bring them up with your homeroom teacher, and pass your concerns along to the support department! But now, whatever garments you may wear, onward!”

In the end, Minoru wasn’t the only one just in his gym clothes. Todoroki-kun had, apparently, had some actual problem with his own costume. And so, he’d chosen to do the same thing Minoru had.

Or maybe he was just trying to make sure Minoru wasn’t the odd man out.

But that was crazy talk.

The important thing was that Minoru didn’t feel too many judgmental or questioning eyes on him, as they all stood in an observation room.

All Might stepped to the front, facing all the students. “Now then, for today’s lesson, you’ll be teaming up! It’s heroes versus villains, as we see just what you youngsters already know. Your brackets should be on the screen...Now!” he bellowed, giving a sweeping flourish to the screen.

After just long enough that it got a little awkward, their view to an empty cityscape changed to all their names and portraits, in an arrangement unlike any they’d seen before. Everyone scrambled to find names, to see just who they’d been paired with...

Check-in

“Under no circumstances are those two boys to be let inro re...re...ARGH!” Ryo barked out, slamming his paperwork onto the meeting table. See, this was why he preferred papers and not tablets. Tablets broke when he got frustrated, because his hands had a way of working too fast.

Kan-kun’s hand on his shoulder grounded him, pulled him back from the raw sensations. Ryo forced himself to take a ragged, furious breath, and then a smoother one. His language centers fired back up, the old anger settled down. He was back in the office. He had this under control. “As...As I was saying,” he said, settling back into his chair, “Midoriya-kun and Bakugou-kun can’t be let into Ground Beta at the same time. Not as teammates, and absolutely not as opponents.”

“Agreed,” Aizawa-san said, barely even looking up from his tablet. But look up he did, just enough to catch Ryo’s gaze. “So we’re rigging the draw, then.”

“Ooh, ooh!” Kayama-san leaned over the table, hand in the air to get everyone’s attention. “I have ideas for pairings, if we’re gonna rig this.”

Yamada-san eyed her from over his shades, grinning. “Pairings or ships, Nem?”

Nemuri gave a huff, ignoring the way Sho hid his snickering under that capture weapon. “Please, I would never do that! ...To the first years. But, if you must know, Zash, I think Mineta-kun is starting to really come around. This would be a good chance for him to make things right with a classmate...”

The Trial

Minoru had stared at that bracket, a whirlwind of anxieties and uncertainties and abandoned jokes (Kayama-sensei called them coping mechanisms, and said he needed new ones) spinning in his head.

And then the teams were called.

That was how the boy found himself standing outside of an apartment building, one half of a ‘hero team’. But the other half was not Todoroki-kun, who he’d sort of started to consider a...friendly acquaintance? Not friend, yet, but, like...In that direction. No, of course not, because Todoroki-kun was part of the villain team. Great. Just great!

And it wasn’t Kaminari-kun, or one of the other guys who laughed along when he made jokes, even the less...bad ones he’d been trying to make.

Or even one of the serious, studious guys, like that Midoriya-san guy who was always writing notes.

You might be seeing a pattern.

Because it wasn’t a guy at all that Minoru stood next to.

It was Jiro Kyoka, the single most terrifying woman in UA. And this wasn’t just because he might have, possibly, sorta...SaidsomethingaboutherchestonthefirstdayDAMMIT.

Minoru tried to force himself to breathe. Okay. Okay he had to apologize, right? Had to. Just...Just get it out. “Uh...So...”

“What,” Jiro-san growled out, glaring down at him.

See this was the reason she was so scary.

...But Minoru only had the two options. Slide back into the same behaviors that had gotten him in this mess, or...

He clenched his fist, meeting her gaze as best he could. “I’m...I’m sorry about what I said back during that quirk test, Jiro-san. I was...” Aaand he couldn’t keep maintaining a gaze. His eyes dropped to the fake sidewalk, and his hands started twisting little patterns around eachother. “I was just trying to, to not be the one everyone laughed at. But I threw you under the bus. So I’m sorry.”

Soooo...

What happened now?

Minoru had never actually gotten this far.

Several long seconds passed, as Jiro-san eyed him...But finally, he heard her sigh. “It was pretty shitty, dude.”

“I know.” Ah, this was what guilt felt like when you just stood and took it. Hello old friend, you finally caught up.

“I’m not gonna just forgive you like that,” she said, snapping her fingers... “But I get being freaked out, at least. Ugh...Fuck it. Fresh start?” she offered, holding out a hand so he could see it.

“I...Y-Yeah! Fresh start!” Minoru said, taking that hand and shaking it. Maybe he could do this, maybe he could really be better than he thou—

Jiro-san gripped his hand tight, looming over him. “And you’d better apologize to Yaoyorozu-san. I heard what you said about her too.” Her ear jacks moved like snakes, hovering around either side of her face. “I’m always listening. Understand?”

Minoru gulped. “Yes ma’am.”

She finally let go, and turned her attention to the building. “So we’ve got...Like, two minutes. Any idea what those two could have cooked up?”

...

Oh, right! They had an actual job, this wasn’t just Minoru’s chance to start setting things right! “Todoroki-kun can do a lot with his ice...Like, scary a lot. We’re popsicles if he even knows we’re inside.”

“Stealth it is. You know anything about the...What was his name? The serious guy.”

Todoroki Shoto frowned, peeking out the window at his classmates planning. He felt...Remarkably uncovered, despite the fact that he’d never actually worn the costume still sitting in the case. He’d been looking forward to covering his cursed half in the soothing confines of fake ice, in completely rejecting that side of himself.

But nobody else was going to step up and help Mineta. Nobody else would even know he needed help.

So here he was, trying to decide whether or not to just freeze the whole building as soon as the ‘heroes’ got inside. Just trap them, then encroach the whole bottom floor and wait it out. Easy. Right?

And yet...he hesitated. And looked back to his so-called partner in crime, hunched over a notebook and scribbling notes all up and down the pages. “Do you have anything?”

One Midoriya Izuku looked up with a start, taking one single moment to actually remember where he was. “O-Oh! Right. Um...I think so. I was just sketching out the floor plans, but you probably memorized them already, right, Todoroki-san?”

Now, the truth of the matter was that Todoroki-san had not done anything of the sort. But Izuku had no way of knowing that, even as the bichromatic boy came over to eye his work. Izuku tried to push down the sense of dread, as some part of his mind wondered whether ice damage would be as bad to a notebook as explosions had proven to be...

“This is very detailed,” Todoroki-san said, snapping Izuku back out of his thoughts. “Any plans?”

“Plans...Nothing too exact. Just...Oh! Um, Todoroki-san, do you know any hand signals? Jiro-san’s hearing seems really sensitive, so I think she’d pick up even if we were whispering...” Izuku trailed off, trying not to let himself mutter.

“I know NATO, historical JSDF, and the Hero Commission specific hybrid,” Todoroki-san said.

“Wow...I just know some NATO I picked up.” It was true what they said, recommendation students really were amazing. Here he just had some fragments of one hand signal system, but Todoroki-san was effectively carrying three in his head!

One outside of Izuku’s head would, perhaps, remember that his sense of what normal people just picked up was deeply, deeply distorted from years of deep wiki dives and a near-fatal allergy to closing browser tabs.

Todoroki-san, though, just nodded. “NATO it is. Are we staying in eyesight, then?”

“I think so...No matter how I look at it, neither Jiro-san or Mineta-san have any ways to really do enough damage from afar to justify splitting up...Jiro-san’s hero costume has those speakers, but those are just too much of a wildcard to plan around...The main problem with her is going to be how much warning she’ll get from anything we do. Unless...How fast can your quirk make ice, Todoroki-san?”

“I could encase the building in roughly...Thirty seconds, at full bore. What should I know about yours?”

And at that, Izuku winced. “I, ah...I’m not really supposed to use mine today, with the...bones. And the breaking thereof. They’re getting some special support gear for me, but...”

Todoroki-san gave another nod, no emotion betraying his face. Izuku could see the little hints of...something, but then his classmate was already fully looking back at Izuku’s notes, really reading them even! “We’ll make do. Any other concerns?”

The time ticked down, as the pair went over data and formulated options...

And then, All Might’s voice boomed across the city, from all directions. ”Heroes, BEGIN!”

Kyoka wasted no time, taking off into a dead sprint. She didn’t have all the information, but she had enough to know speed and stealth were their only options. They had to outpace the golden boy Todoroki, keep him from cornering them with those crazy bursts of ice...

And just hope they didn’t run into the other guy. She’d seen what he did with a finger. If he actually punched?

Nope. Nope, don’t think about it. Just don’t.

Instead, she tried to focus on the plan as she got to the edge of the building. They needed information. Her teammate needed to know where he was going. She felt the outside walls, not daring to go inside just yet. Something soft enough...There. One of her ear jacks punctured the wooden wall, and vibrations immediately transferred straight into Kyoka’s head.

She kept the other ear, with her comm piece, open. She needed to hear Mineta in case something went wrong...And god, wasn’t that a crazy sentence.

“It’s bullshit!” Kyoka shouted, sitting there in Yamada-sensei’s office at the end of her first day. “This is supposed to be a hero school, right? I thought...I thought things would be better.”

But her English teacher, and now apparent therapist, just sighed. His energy levels were...A lot lower than they’d been back during his lesson, now that it was just him, her, and the laser guy from her class. “I know, kiddo. I had the same feeling my first day, when I was your age...But I’ll tell you we’re keeping an eye on things. We’re not gonna let behavior like that continue.”

She frowned with suspicion. “And what am I supposed to do until then? Let the little perv keep running his mouth?”

Yamada-sensei shook his head. “Report everything. You can take it to your homeroom teacher, to Hound Dog, or to me. It’ll all get collated. And if he turns around...”

“Then what, I give him a chance?” she asked, trying not to roll her eyes. Yamada-sensei was...trying. That was more than she usually got out of authority figures. “He’ll just be right back up to it as soon as nobody’s watching him.”

“He gets one. One chance, in case it was a dumb mistake. But if this is just who Mineta-kun is...Then he’s not UA material. I promise you.”

She shook her head, focusing. Apparently it was a dumb mistake. But...No. She’d worry about the rest after. A tap to her little comm brought it to life, connecting her to the petite kid. “I’m hearing some shuffling around about...12 meters up, fourth floor. No talking, though.”

”Got it,” his voice came back to her, sounding strained. She caught the subtle pop of one of those balls on his head coming free, and a grunt as he hauled himself up by it. ”I’m, think I’m about halfway up.” Another pop, another pull. He was moving fast, but if he looked down...

“Don’t think about that part. Just worry about getting in once you’re on the roof.” As much as Kyoka had her concerns about him, she didn’t want him to fall and die.

She still wasn’t picking up much...What were they doing up there? How was it she didn’t get any talking? Even a whisper, she might not have been able to figure out what they said, but at least know it happened...Were they just waiting? Sitting and hoping the timer ran out?

She heard a touch through her jack, and the groan of squeaky hinges in her open ear.

She dared to look up.

And saw a pair of bright green bunny ears sticking up, a painted-on smile looming over her. “Hi,” the boy said, with a little wave.

Then another window opened, and a blast of ice came thundering for Kyoka. She ripped her jack free of the wall and ran for it, icicles bursting up behind her as frost crept out from golden boy Todoroki. FUCK SHIT DAMMIT! “They spotted me!” she shouted into her mic. “Move faster!”

Her hands slapped against the corners of the next building over, and she sprang around into the open street, eyes whirling. Where would Todoroki’s next attack come from? What were his limits? Think, Kyoka, think, everyone’s got a limit...

She saw the ice coming, this time, with more than enough room to dodge it.

She saw the line of frost snaking across the ground.

A grin split her lips, almost as wide as the one bunny boy had on his mask. You wouldn’t know it from looking at her punkish stylings, but Kyoka was pretty smart in her own right. Give her enough to work with, and she could figure out a pretty good plan.

And now, she had just about enough.

Time to play decoy.

Minoru pushed it all down. His worry about the height, his fear of actually facing Todoroki-kun down, all the panicking he’d been doing about Jiro-san for all number of reasons...He just tried to breathe, and to move as fast as he could. He had to make this work. He had to.

One more grape came free from his head, a bit of red on the edges. His scalp was starting to bleed. He must’ve put...

Don’t think about it don’t do the math.

He just slammed the grape into the wall, and pulled, until he was up on the roof, his feet on solid ground instead of scrabbling against rough wood and concrete.

Only then did he dare look over the edge.

Aaaand nearly vomited.

Awesome.

Great start to his heroic career.

Yep.

Minoru swallowed it down, just like he had with the panic, and tried to breathe. “I’m on the r—“

”SOUNDS GREAT!” Jiro-san shouted in his ear, the telltale sound of one of Todoroki-kun’s icicles echoing underneath her words.

Was she mad at him?

...Or was she trying to make sure they didn’t hear him.

“...Starting the mission. Going radio dark,” Minoru said, hoping it sounded as cool out loud as it did in his head. Now, to hope their guesses were correct. This was a training ground. They’d be making things easy, right?

He dared to go over to the big, labeled air conditioning unit, and looked at the vent cover.

...It was held in with little brackets, complete with thumb levers. And the unit was just a box, no huge terrifying fans to chop him up. Yep, their guess was right. They wanted the students to be able to do crazy stuff like this.

Minoru dropped the vent cover as quietly as he could, and clambered on into the tunnel. Now came the hard part...

But he’d do it. He had to.

Izuku was, despite what tampered grades (and a very low sense of self-esteem) might tell you, a pretty smart young man. And rather sharp, quick to spot things and put them together. So, it didn’t take him long at all to notice the lack of Mineta-san out there with Jiro-san. The pair had obviously split up, but what was the actual plan...What was Jiro-san distracting from?

The broad answer was obvious. It was the specifics that mattered. How was Mineta-san trying to get into the building? Izuku stepped back, fists clenched and senses focused. He had to find the guy...But where could he be? There was no sign at any of the windows, they had every door thrown wide open...

...There! Izuku’s gaze snapped upwards, to the large vents running along the ceiling. It was so convenient, but from what little he’d seen of Mineta-san’s quirk, he’d easily be able to climb up to the roof...!

Time was of the essence. “Todoroki-san!” Izuku called, breaking their vow of silence. The two-toned boy whirled to face him, instincts flaring.

But Izuku didn’t say another word. He just gestured with his hands, trying to remember those damn NATO signs...

TARGET SPOTTED

Izuku just pointed upwards after that, to the vents.

In time to hear a muffled shout, and wild scrambling that made the vents clang and clatter. He’d been right!

Of course, Midoriya-san didn’t know the cause of that panic. It wasn’t, exactly, his quick deduction. Rather, Kyoka saw Todoroki-san stop trying to catch her or keep her out. And she knew that only meant one thing.

“Shit...Mineta! They figured us out! MOVE IT!” she shouted into her comm, and took off for the front door. A roaring wave of sound tore through the ice walls in her way, and her shoulder worked just fine at forcing the doors open. Stealth was no longer an option, and the timer was running short. She needed to get to her teammate now, if they were going to have any chance at this...!

Minoru’s stomach fell all the way to his knees at Jiro-san’s shout. He barely managed to keep himself from screaming, or begging for more information, or any of the other panic responses he wanted to have. It took everything he had to just follow her instructions and move, hands and feet slamming into the metal vent as he scrambled. He had to get out of here, get to ground and and and a—

Everything became so very cold.

And then Minoru realized he was falling.

Shoto clenched his teeth, refusing to let them chatter. He tensed his side, refusing to let it quiver. The fire in him yearned to break loose, if only to soothe his pain, but he kept it caged. Not here. NOT NOW.

Midoriya’s word and signs echoed in his skull. This was a school assignment, but it was also a mission. Their enemy was in their domain, the space they were tasked with defending.

He would not, could not, let that stand.

And thus Shoto pulled deep, with all his might, and forced more ice out. The spread came faster than he expected, wider than he intended, and it shot up into the vents above.

He’d intended to seal it off, block Mineta in. Maybe even take him hostage or something, that sounded suitably villainous.

What happened, instead, was that his muscles gave a fierce spasm as he unleashed his ice. He stumbled, staggered, and a shaft of froze sliced through the ceiling.

Somewhere in the distance of his (temperature-damaged, staticky) comm, he heard All Might shouting about the dangers of that last move.

Much closer, he heard Mineta’s panicked scream.

Izuku watched, unable to look away. It was like seeing an accident on the road. Some part of you had to look, to see if it was a fender-bender or if something far worse had happened. Some...Primal part of humanity that they’d never been able to shed.

So he looked, he watched, and hoped Mineta-san would come out in one piece.

The boy did, by inches. The vent shuddered, buckled, and he saw Mineta-san just barely shy of the ice that had almost split him through. The whole vent came loose, and Mineta-san tumbled out into the room with a yelp, landing in a heap.

The open door burst off its frame, and he heard Jiro-san shouting...Something. But all the noise, and All Might’s voice on the comm, and he saw the look of quiet horror on Todoroki-san’s face...

Finally, Izuku just ripped his comm out of his ear. He put both hands up, as high as they would go, and dropped the little thing so he could have them completely open. “We surrender, hero,” he said, voice shuddering.

He knew he was letting his hero, the man who had trusted him with all this power, down.

He knew he was letting the gifted and capable Todoroki-san down.

But he’d let his teammate down as soon as he had failed to compensate for the limits of Todoroki-san’s quirk.

And they were only lucky it didn’t go so much worse.

All Might’s voice carried over every speaker in the building. ”The villains have been disqualified. The, heroes win,” he said, sounding as uncertain about what had just happened as Izuku felt.

Chapter Text

The reaction

Bakugou Katsuki was, it must be said, having a very rough day.

He wouldn’t have said that out loud, of course. He’d have denied it, and told you to fuck off. And even if you managed to force him to tell the truth, well, he’d have called it ‘pretty shitty’, nothing so nice as rough.

But what was making his day rough, exactly? Well, a lot of things. Most relevant among those...up until the last half-hour or so, he’d have said it was the extra session that Hound Dog forced him to come in for during lunchtime.

Then he watched golden boy Todoroki damn near split one of their classmates the fuck in half.

So.

Ah.

That was kind of on the forefront of his mind. As the four were gathered up, conversations happened all around about the mistakes that had been made, and how to handle the scenario better. It was, admittedly, pretty fucking obvious what those mistakes were...

But, it was one thing to talk about it as a theoretical. It was another to see it in front of you. Katsuki obviously had a rather destructive quirk in his own right. He was quite used to holding back, keeping control. Hell, he was pretty damn used to letting loose out in the middle of nowhere, too, so he knew what quirk exhaustion felt like. And he’d definitely finished a workout session or two with his hands giving off little popping spasms, so he could even see how things had gone the way they did.

What he wasn’t used to, was seeing the consequences of losing control be put so fiercely on display.

Especially not right after some fuckin’ dog had just upturned his whole idea of how the world worked, and left him picking up the pieces.

All of this meant that Katsuki wasn’t exactly listening, let alone contributing, when they picked apart that first battle trial. And he...Well, in retrospect, he sure as hell disassociated during the next couple ones, his mind flickering of images of what would happen if he ever lost control like that. How many times had he popped off on targets, on Deku, holding back just enough to make sure it didn’t leave real lasting damage? (WHAT IF HE’D SLIPPED, AND DIDN’T HOLD BACK?)

“...oung Bakugou, are you alright?” came All Might’s voice from on high, dragging Katsuki out of his own skull.

“Fine. Never better,” he said, pushing some frustration in his voice to hide the nerves. “Trying to think over here for my turn.”

“Well...It is your turn,” All Might said, sounding downright sheepish about it. “And young Bakugou...Please, be careful in there.” He put a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder, trying to...comfort him, or lift him out of his thoughts, or something.

Inside his head, Katsuki slammed his own inner fanboy into a metaphorical locker. Outside, he forced himself to shrug the Number One hero’s hand off his shoulder, forced himself to act like he didn’t care and didn’t need this fucking pity. “Always am.”

He turned on his heel, ignoring all the extras others in the room, and went for the exit into Ground Beta. There stood the redhead, looking way too eager for this. “Alright! You ready to go?” he asked, throwing Katsuki a thumbs up.

Katsuki went to push right past him, go for the door...And saw his own grenade gauntlet.

(WHAT WOULD THAT THING DO TO A PERSON?)

The first gauntlet hit the setup table, the scent of burnt caramel coming off the absorption pads. He snapped open the clasps on the second gauntlet with a speed that could only come from trying to outrun your own brain, and damn near threw it onto the table. It was only the weight of the thing, the consideration of just how much nervous sweat must have soaked in, that stayed his hand.

He set the second gauntlet down as gently as he could manage, and then slammed the door open with all his might. “Let’s go,” he growled out, hoping the anger would hide the fear.

He would not, could not, be weak here. Not with everyone so much more capable than back at Aldera.

(BUT ISN’T THAT JUST HOW ALDERA WANTED YOU TO THINK?)

Momo frowned to herself, a finger tapping her chin as she looked at the prop explosive she was meant to protect. On the one hand, strictly speaking she was given no orders that she couldn’t move the bulky thing, and she could certainly cook up a basic cart capable of holding it without using too many resources. But on the other, it would be a bit against the spirit of this, wouldn’t it? This was a Battle Trial, not a Search Trial, after all.

She was getting nowhere, and time was short. So finally, she sighed, and looked to her teammate. “What do you think? Any ideas for how to better defend our prize? I’m open to suggestions.”

And there once again, stood Kaminari-san. Amazing how quickly she’d come to trust him, after only three days of working together. “Hmm...What if we put, like, a fence around it? Like those metal criss-crossy fences,” he said, making an X with his fingers. “Then if they bust in, I can just slam into the fence and, perkew!” He popped his hands open, little sparks of electricity dancing out like miniature fireworks.

“Ah, you mean a chain-link fence! It has potential...Just give me a moment,” Momo said, reaching around to the back of her costume. She’d been having some second thoughts about all of the exposure this suit had, especially in contrast to Kaminari-san’s clothes (to say nothing of the comments from her first day...but one mustn’t speak ill of the nearly-dead!), but her reference books were a definite winner.

And if she wanted to call them her Yaoyorictionary, well, that was between her and the support crew who printed and bound the tomes.

The metal structure of a single thick wire was simple enough, but it was figuring out the way they interlaced in a surprisingly intricate pattern...Still, after only a bit of sketching, Momo had it, starting to tug a length of rolled fencing out from her arm. “Ah, if you could just help me lash this to that post there, Kaminari-san...Oh, how did your session go yesterday? I never got the chance to ask you about it!”

Denki took the criss-crossy fencing just, coming right out of Yaoyorozu-san’s arm, and started walking. “I didn’t get it, honestly...It was mostly just reading and writing, no quirk stuff at all until the end. They had Recovery Girl hook me up to those...the medical things? With the sticky pads? Anyways, she was trying to get readings off of me, but...Perkew,” he said, giving another little spark-pop with his free hand.

“Hmm, that’s rather odd...” Yaoyorozu-san trailed off, putting the far end of the fencing on the wall. She’d only made it about half a meter tall, putting it around head height. “A gap in the center shouldn’t cost us too much in defensiveness, and will improve the efficiency...Meet me in the middle?” she asked.

And once again, Denki had another length of freshly created fence in his hands. He wasn’t much to think too deeply about quirks, but even he could see how crazy powerful and useful hers was. “Yeah. Like, it’d make sense if it was quirk theory stuff, or even, like...Easy quizzes because I’m too much of a dumbass for the real ones. But it was just random stuff...Oh, and some of it in English, too, but printed in this weird font. At least that part was easy.”

“Hmm,” came from Yaoyorozu-san. With his back turned as he hooked the fence to the wall, he couldn’t see her expression, but he could only imagine she was disappointed in him for not keeping up. “Be that as it may,” she said, “I did miss you at yesterday’s session. Aizawa-sensei is relentless.”

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Denki asked. He stood up proper, once he had the fence all secured...And yeah, there was a gap in the middle now that you could slip through, but not easily, and not while trying not to get your ass kicked. Woo, he’d made a plan! And it might work!

“Oh, you have no idea...” Momo said, her body still aching from the endeavor.

Momo took a desperate swing with her training sword, trying to at least slow her teacher down a bit. She almost wished she had the luxury of his crimson eyes blocking her quirk, if only because then he wouldn’t be forcing her to keep using it!

He just tilted his upper body, avoiding the blow entirely. That capture weapon snaked out, ripping the blade right out of her hand. “Staff next,” he called, sliding a single step back to give her the range...And him the room to make it.

And oh, she made a staff, alright. She swung right in the middle of crafting it, trying to catch him off-guard...So imagine her surprise when he ducked, letting the weapon sail overhead, and knocked it out of her hands. “Knives!” he shouted, not even letting her reset.

And when she’d finally run dry? When her fat reserves were so low that she was lightheaded, and could barely move?

He just handed her one of those jelly pouches, gathered up all the training weapons he’d ripped out of her hands, and made her swap between them the old-fashioned way.

Only when Katsuki had gotten well into the fake city, was staring down the building that his classmates and now opponents were in, did he let himself un-clench. He dropped down onto the curb, sitting there with his forearms laying over his knees, and tried to think.

Not about all the shit whirling around in his fucking head now. Not about where a certain peppermint asshole and green-haired nerd had both gone (been taken) after their whole thing. Just the task ahead of him. Get in there, capture the villains or disable the bomb.

And minimize collateral damage. All Might himself had been explicit about that, after the shitshow that was the near death of the grape kid. So Katsuki had practical reasons for dropping his gauntlets, not just traumatic ones. Now, how the hell to get in there without everything going all pear-shaped...

“Whatcha thinking, Bakubro?” the redhead asked. (Kirishima, his name’s Kirishima, you don’t need to pretend not to remember it)

Katsuki flinched. He’d only gotten a few other nicknames in his life...And, well, look how well things worked out for the folks calling him Victory and Kacchan. (HE WASN’T GONNA HURT ANYONE ELSE ANYMORE) “Don’t...Call me that.”

And Kirishima just paused. “Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry, Bakugou-san. So, any ideas?”

“Besides just blasting my way through the fucking window and slamming the bug zapper and the rich bitch into the walls?” he grumbled, staring. He could see the bomb from about this angle, reflections being all funky in the windows. Dark bomb, light room, it was too damn big to miss. “...They’re on the third floor this time. Halfway up that building. You got any better ideas?” he tried to ask.

It still sounded more like a challenge.

Yet, Kirishima Eijirou just rubbed his chin. An idea did come to him, as he looked at the manhole cover a few steps away...But as cool and manly as it would be if it worked...it was a little too risky for his first time.

Any and all plans for rocketing up through the sewers during future heroism classes were between him, his journal, and Snipe-sensei. In that order. “What about...How tough do you think that glass is?”

“Third floor? Not very,” Bakugou-san replied, sounding automatic. Like it was something he knew from experience, and wasn’t even thinking about.

That was pretty cool, too. Knowledge ruled.

But Eijirou grinned, hardening up a fist. “Bet I could run through the glass on that building next door. Jump right in before they know what hit ‘em.”

Bakugou-san paused. His gaze flicked over to the almost identical building on the other side of their target. And then, he finally turned to look at him, really look at him instead of somewhere in the middle distance.

Slowly, slowly, a grin split his features. “Oh, you’re on.”

A plan was assembled.

Momo kneeled down with her own notes, methodically sketching out a simple trap system. “...and then if we put trip wires he—“

”HEROES, BEGIN!” All Might’s voice echoed, interrupting Momo’s sentence.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. Her plans were entirely theoretical still. She’d utterly lost track of time, and all they’d managed was a simple fence around the bomb! Their opponents, both with very direct and impactful quirks, were going to be here any second!

Oh dear, oh dear oh dear oh dear.

She had to force herself to breathe. Find the most immediate, actionable parts first, right? That’s what Aizawa-sensei said. All the tripwire systems were too loosely defined and labor intensive, she needed the bare bones that she could get working now!

Kaminari-san’s hand touched her shoulder. “Hey, Yaoyorozu-san. Sorry to keep making you do this, but could you make one of those long pipes for me again?”

Momo managed a steady breath. Her heart rate dropped out of its near-panic levels. Right. Yes. She wasn’t doing this alone. That was the point of the lesson. “Of course, Kaminari-san. My apologies for not preparing something sooner.” A slim steel pipe slid out from her forearm; she’d learned her mistake from their first try at this, and now the thing had a simple cross-hatch down its length, enough to give it some grip.

Kaminari-san drew it free, standing up to his full height to give the new weapon a few test swings. “I wish we had time for all those plans to work...Hey, how fast could you make, like, a slide for the bomb? Like we just shove it out the window when they come for us!”

Despite her best efforts, Momo let out a giggle as she stood. Somehow, this over-energetic young man had stumbled on the very idea she’d had. “Not fast enough, I’m afraid. We’ll just have to fight out way past them when they come.” Oh, if only she had a simple way to get his electric charge, without making an entire...system...

Rubber gloves melted into place on Momo’s hands, and she dragged a second pipe out of her arm. The only difference was that hers was not hollow, for she had quickly (downright haphazardly) adjusted the design in her mind. Instead, through the entire length, she had packed it full of quick and dirty capacitors. “Kaminari-san! Could you give this one a few jolts for me?”

If there was one thing Denki had learned in his few days of working with Yaoyorozu-san, it was to ask ‘why’ after he did the thing the smart girl told him to do. So he grabbed the pipe, pushing some rough voltage down the length of it. “That’s not too much, is...Why is it whining?”

“It’s working, don’t let up!” Yaoyorozu-san said.

So, Denki just shrugged, kept the voltage high, and let his mind wander for a moment. It was weird that the others hadn’t gotten here yet, what were—

He caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye.

He saw, with a recognition hyper-charged by a brain too abuzz to settle down, a door slam open.

In the next building over.

It took him barely an eye-blink to recognize Kirishima-san’s hero costume from the room, as the guy ran towards them.

“INCOMING!” Denki managed to shout, dropping into the basic fighting stance Aizawa-sensei had been trying to drill into him.

And that was when the world, and more importantly the window, exploded behind him.

Katsuki didn’t realize how much he’d needed this, until he was sprinting up the steps of an empty building. All the anger and frustration, and all the other emotions (guilt shame JUDGMENT) that those first two covered up, bled away into the simple purity of action.

He didn’t have to worry about right or wrong, protagonists versus extras, good and evil. All he had to do was the assignment he’d been given...And make damn sure he didn’t do the same thing as the peppermint. Hold back enough that everybody walked away, make a show of it.

Easy shit, once he got moving. Once he let his body take over and his mind rest.

Gotta get the timing just right. Don’t math it out, feel it! Katsuki clenched a hand into a claw shape, snapped it forward just so as he planted his foot, and something inside his arm squeezed. Fire erupted forward with fierce momentum, shattering the glass ahead of him.

His hearing aids (fuck you, he didn’t need a euphemism, ‘support item’ they were fucking hearing aids) knocked off almost all of the sound, leaving just a heavy whump of bass that pushed through his body with the explosion.

He forced himself to not even break stride. He needed to hit this running. Don’t think about the two in the room. Don’t think about Kirishima. Don’t think about the consequences of fucking this up, not until it works.

Katsuki’s boot hit the very edge of the window, and he pushed off with every scrap of might he had in his body.

Hold, hold, ho—NOW!

Two explosions ripped out from his palms. One forward, blasting apart the window ahead of him so he could sail through. One behind him, so the first didn’t steal his precious momentum away.

He hit the ground spinning on his feet. Forced himself not to let the nausea creep up. Claim the momentum, use it for—

F U C K

To the outside world, Katsuki hit the ground, spun on his heel, and came at Kaminari with a vicious roundhouse.

And then his leg hit that staff, and everyone saw him tense as a rather painful amount of electricity jumped across the point of contact.

But in Katsuki’s head, all he remembered for that moment was how much it hurt, and how hard it was to keep his hands from popping off then and there.

While Bakugou Katsuki was working through complex muscle-memory, riding out a physics equation he’d theorized and practiced dozens of times to make it look easy...

Eijiro just kinda hardened up, and took that window as a polite suggestion.

With his sheer density once he was hardened, the first window didn’t even slow him down as he burst through it. And the second, even if it had been able to do anything, sure couldn’t have done enough.

He hit the ground hard enough to make it shudder, and stared down two of his classmates. “Sorry, but I’m gonna have to take that bomb!” he shouted, hoping it sounded as cool out loud as it did in his head. He slid into a fighting stance, ready as Yaoyorozu-san did the same...

And then Bakugou-san came screaming in, tried to kick Kaminari-san, but clearly looked to be in a lot of pain. “Bakugou-san!” he cried, one instinct overriding another. He had to get to his teammate! Eijiro charged forward, arms blocking whatever came for him.

But it still hurt like hell when Yaoyorozu-san clunked him with that staff, and something inside it screamed when it jolted him. “Not so fast!” she said, putting herself between him and Bakugou-san.

So that was how it was going to be, huh? Eijiro bit back a growl, planting his feet firmly. No chance of barreling through. This could take a minute. Sorry, Bakugou-san...I’m coming for you! he thought to himself, before his eyes were solely on his opponent. Breathe, focus...And go.

He stepped into his punch, a fierce haymaker that he threw without hesitation.

And yet, he didn’t hit Yaoyorozu-san.

Because she was no longer where he’d been swinging.

That damn staff came for his head from the side, impacting hard enough that he just about felt it through his hardening. And he definitely felt the screaming jolt as the thing zapped him again. “Ow! What is that thing?!”

“Trade secret!” Yaoyorozu-san quipped back at him, dancing away from his next strike. She was fast, alright, avoiding his blows one after the other. Where did she even learn to move like that?!

But it couldn’t carry forever. Eijiro saw the moment she over-committed, pushed too hard to stick him with that thing. And it didn’t make near as many noises, or zap him near as bad.

He snatched the staff as soon as it bounced off of him, letting his hardened muscles do the work of ripping it out of her hands and throwing it across the room. “Got any more tricks up your sleeve?” he growled out, stepping forward. He didn’t even mean to, really, but once he started pushing his hardening like this, it made his vocal chords all...gravely.

So somewhere deep inside, he definitely made a note to apologize to Yaoyorozu-san later, as he saw the look of panic come over her. She took a step back, eyes darting in either direction, hands twitching to do something.

It was the perfect opportunity for Eijiro to push past her, to rescue Bakugou-san and/or grab the bomb.

One little problem.

At the same moment that Eijiro pushed forward, he met Kaminari-san’s gaze.

Kaminari-san saw past him, to the look on his own teammate’s face.

And...

Oh no.

That was a bad look to be on the other side of.

“YAOYOROZU-SAN GET DOWN!” Kaminari-san roared, lightning arcing down his arms bright enough to cast the room in a vibrant blue. He slammed them down onto the floor, and then everything hurt for Eijiro. “ONE POINT TWO MILLION VOLTS!”

Nope nope NOPE. Katsuki might never have entirely gotten the phrase ‘discretion is the better part of valor’, but in that moment, he understood.

He fired off two tight explosions, and sent himself sailing across the room. He was not getting caught in that. He was not learning what that could do if it tensed his quirk muscles. Nope. Not today, asshole.

Katsuki hit the far corner of the room in a heap, and caught the sight of two fuckin’ wild situations.

The first, that rich girl had dove under some kinda blanket. Was it rubber or something? Had to be. Something nonconductive. Yeah, okay, she was smart then. Good to know.

Second...

Kirishima sure as hell wasn’t, because he was pushing through the electricity like this was a god damned movie.

Katsuki stared at the sight, confused and boggled and...horrified? No, horrified was too much, he didn’t fuckin’ care about this guy he’d only shared a class with for a week.

Yet still, his legs turned to jelly. His stomach clenched. The words he wanted to shout got caught in his throat. And he watched as Kirishima pushed forward, step by step, with lightning bouncing off of his rocky body.

As Kirishima managed to get up to the roaring Kaminari.

And with one solid swing, slam them both through that fence around the bomb. The fence that, some little tactical part of Katsuki’s mind knew, had to be part of a strategy they’d never even gotten to play out.

Kaminari hit the fake bomb hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and knock a big fuck-off hole in the glorified paper mache the thing was made out of. At last, the electricity stopped.

A buzzer sounded. It was over.

But Katsuki didn’t hear the number one hero’s voice, telling him he’d won.

He was too busy hearing the sound of two students, genuine fear in their voices, screaming names.

Kirishima looking to him, calling out to him. “Bakugou-san!”

And Yaoyorozu scrambling out from under that blanket, her gaze searching out her teammate. “Kaminari-san! Kaminari-san!”

...Fuck.

They all had a lot to learn about this hero shit, didn’t they.

The last thing Katsuki registered, before drones started coming in to help them out, was the quiet sound of Kaminari. The guy looked right through Yaoyorozu, and just said “Whaheyyy...”, as if that meant anything at all.

Chapter Text

Mighty

All Might, the world’s greatest hero, lasted roughly five seconds past the end of the lesson before sheer worry overtook him. But he was a trained hero, a professional, so he did what he always did when times were tough. He smiled, and gave it his all to help calm the kids. “Well then, children! This first lesson in Heroism Fundamentals has surely shown you much about where to focus your training. Remember, it’s not always about going Plus Ultra, but knowing exactly how much Ultra the situation needs! Now then, I’m afraid I must be off, as evil never rests and neither do I!”

He was out of the room before any of the remaining students could even respond.

All of them could use help, a hand outstretched to raise them to their full potential...But there were plenty of people who were doing exactly that, and more would come. Mentors, further teachers, their senpais even. And none of these students carried the specific burden of a certain bright-eyed, hopeful young man.

All Might, the world’s greatest hero, ducked into one of the particular rooms he’d memorized. He tapped the light switch ‘on’ five times, ‘off’ four times, and back to ‘on’, and heard the doors at either end smoothly lock to the outside.

He breathed, and relaxed his grip on his own power. In a puff of smoke, All Might simply vanished, and then there was merely the skeletal form of Yagi Toshinori in the greatest hero’s loose rags.

Toshinori pushed the bloodied coughs back. Practiced hands got to work tucking away his suit, slipping out his formal attire. He worked as fast as he could dare, wishing this delay hadn’t been necessary at all. He’d seen the look in young Midoriya’s eyes. And sure, of course he’d be headed to speak to someone after this. But...

The boy needed to be told he did the right thing.

And quite frankly, Toshinori needed to tell him he did the right thing. How many of his own early mistakes could have been avoided, had someone simply taken him aside and praised him when he focused on safety over victory? When he made sure the victims mattered more than the villains?

He shook his head, buttoning up his shirt. The past was the past. For now, he had to focus on the future.

As soon as his hand touched the doorknob, both sets unlocked as smooth and silent as before. And out stepped the humble Theoretical Heroics advisor, Yagi-sensei, to flow through the halls without anyone even bothering to notice.

Izuku sat in the hall outside of Inui-sensei’s office, and tried to keep the tears down.

It didn’t work, of course, but he at least kept them a bit more quiet, so he wouldn’t bother whoever was in there now. Old habits died hard, and Izuku had a great deal of habits about not bothering people. Even he knew that, well before the wild change of someone actually listening to his problems. Which was just all the more reason to keep it down, to ensure he wasn’t causing trouble for—

A hand landed gently upon Izuku’s shoulder, and he damn near yelped as he finally looked up. His gaze found the sunken, yet fiercely bright eyes of his hero’s weakened form, and for a moment, Izuku just stilled. How much had All Might—Yagi-sensei—seen? Heard?

“My boy, are you alright?” Yagi-sensei asked, his voice entirely different than when he was All Might. Gentle, tender. Instead of filling a room, filling a stadium, it felt as if Izuku was the only one in the entire world able to...allowed to, hear it.

Izuku sucked back more tears, and tried to put on a smile worthy of his inspiration. “J-Just a little tired. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Yagi-sensei just gave a slow sigh. “May I sit down, young Midoriya?” When the boy gave a nod, he settled in, folding his lanky frame into the hard plastic seat. Even in one of the most well-funded schools in the world, some things were just...universal. “Did something about today’s lesson trouble you?”

He saw Izuku’s shudder. “...I fucked up. I’m a fuckup,” the boy finally said, eyes down at the ground. And Toshinori stiffened, because he could hardly think of a time that Izuku had ever cursed in front of him at all. To hear him say such things, and point them so brutally at himself no less...

“Why would you say that? You did everything the lesson asked of you,” he said, trying to find the flaw in his own plans. What had led things so astray?

But Izuku just shook his head. “I failed the lesson, Yagi-sensei...The ice attacks were, my idea. I shouldn’t have tried to take charge. If things hadn’t...If Mineta-san hadn’t gotten lucky, he...I...” Izuku trailed off with a low groan, burying his head between his knees.

Shit.

Toshinori put a hand on the (his) boy’s back, trying to rub calming circles the way his own parents had done long ago. “Young Midoriya...Izuku. Listen closely to me.”

He saw the boy freeze, but an eye peered up, unwilling to deny him this. And so, Toshinori continued. “You did not fail. Your plans could not have accounted for troubles and limits that your classmates did not tell you about. And who was it that called off the trial as soon as things went awry? It was you, Izuku, before...before anyone else,” he said, keeping himself out of the discussion. The troubles of secret identities.

“But, that’s just...” Izuku tried to say, clearly trying to find the right words.

Toshinori sighed once again, his hand still trying to rub away the sorrow. “You thought through the problem. You worked with your classmate, and actively communicated...Do you know how proud I was, when I saw you work out that young Jiro has sensitive hearing and then found a way to silently communicate with young Todoroki? The boy who I met on the roof that day...I don’t know if he’d have been so ready to work with others.”

Slowly, he picked himself up out of the chair to crouch down in front of Izuku, to meet his successor’s (his boy was more than that) gaze properly. “My boy, you are not a fuckup. You did exquisitely. I don’t want you to just barrel through problems, and try to solve everything with brute force like I did. In training your body to handle the weight of your quirk, we neglected time on honing your mind...But that was my mistake. It is your greatest asset...And it’ll make you greater than I ever was.”

He gave a smile, the best one his hollowed face could muster, as he took in Izuku’s stunned expression. “Now, I think your time with Inui-san is just about to start. And remember, he knows about my...past. You can tell him anything, Izuku. I promise.”

Electric

Shouta grimaced in the depths of his capture weapon, running through the highlight reel in his head once more. Obviously, he’d been paying attention to the cameras on his homeroom class’s first practical lesson. A lesson that had caused no end of problems in previous years, enough that they’d pushed it back an entire week just to make sure nobody got injured.

And yet one child was nearly bisected, another (his mentorship partner, no less!) had a quirk spasm uncontrolled enough to lead to that incident, and his two! His two had fallen right into their worst habits, and now one had needed healing of minor electric burns all up and down her arm, and the other was semi-lucid from the backlash of the very quirk that had done it.

And those were just the most ‘exciting’ of the problems. He had all manner of children who needed some serious work on the core fundamentals of quirk use in a god damned society, where one didn’t have auto-repair drones to fix damage.

Suffice to say, the man was…displeased. At a great many things and people. But most of all? He was displeased with himself. This happening was nothing less than a failure on his part. All of it. He should have focused them better, should have identified problems sooner, should have touched base with his coworkers more often.

Above all else?

He should have known.

All of this swirled in Aizawa Shouta’s head, as he marched down to the medical center. (He refused to call it a nurse’s office. Nurse’s offices were for spraying peroxide on scrapes and laying down when your stomach ached, not setting broken bones.) But he pushed the worst thoughts down, deep down, to where only his own therapist and his husband would ever see them, as he slid the door open.

It didn’t take long to find the two problem children he’d picked out of the litter. Kaminari was out cold in one of the beds, an induced power-nap to spring him back faster. And as for Yaoyorozu, she was seated next to him, her left arm wrapped to keep the burn cream on. No doubt, she’d refused the fatiguing option so she could keep watch. But now she looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes, the look he saw when he’d handed her a test that didn’t have a Correct Answer.

Shouta forced down all of his frustration with the system, the damned expectations that had turned such a clever girl into one giant walking anxiety complex. He forced his grimace to settle into a neutral expression, and gave his weapon enough of a tug down that she could see his face. “Alright. Tell me what happened.”

“I-It was my fault, Aizawa-sensei. We were trying to come up with a plan, and I was so focused on the details that—“ Yaoyorozu started, only to be cut off by Shouta holding out his hand.

He refused to let himself sigh. She didn’t know what she was doing. She still had to learn what she needed to push against. Shouta squatted down, crouched enough to bring himself to her seated eye level. “No. I didn’t ask for blame, or who to punish, Yaoyorozu. I asked what happened. I’ve seen the footage, I know the facts. I want your perspective.”

Momo froze, trying to find the way to answer this. The gears of her mind spun fast enough to kick up a metaphorical cyclone, desperately looking at the situation from every angle she could think of. She had tried the responsible thing, and it had failed. She was told to not even bother with the dutiful recitation of facts. But what did that even leave?

She felt her breath catching. No, no, not here, not now. Breathe. Smooth, steady. Vulnerability wasn’t a weakness she could afford, not even here. Force the reaction to stop. Calm the nerves. Leave nothing errant to question. That was the Yaoyorozu way. “…Very well, Aizawa-sensei. The simple answer is, we lost track of time and weren’t ready for our opponents to be coming so quickly. I expected at least one of the two we were up against to be more tentative, instead of both choosing to charge straight in.”

“Mmhm,” Aizawa-sensei said, watching her much too carefully and far too perceptively. “From what I saw, the basics of your initial response was functional. Did you do something different with that length of pipe you pulled for yourself, this time?”

“Oh, yes!” A simple, answerable question! Momo nodded along, plucking a simple capacitor from the palm of her hand. “I added capacitors such as these along the inside, so that Kaminari-san’s voltage could charge them up.”

“And discharge at contact…A simple taser. Blunt, but effective. Quick on your feet, too.” Aizawa-sensei took the capacitor from her, rolling the little cylinder between his fingers. Was there something wrong with it? Had she not made it to spec…? “So. Can you identify the moment when things went off the rails?”

Momo winced, before she could stop herself. “…The charge ran out. And when…Kirishima-san pushed right through, I…”

“Lost your confidence?” Aizawa-sensei offered, his voice so much quieter than before. The look on his face was…different. Understanding. A look she wasn’t used to seeing, from the ferociously strict and mildly terrifying teacher.

She gave a nod, not trusting her own voice to stay steady.

“It’s understandable. Have you ever been in a fight, Yaoyorozu? A real fight. One where your opponent wanted to hurt you, not just demonstrate a technique or overcome you in formal competition.”

She shook her head. “…Never.”

“Good. Nobody deserves to go through that before they’re ready to fight back. Your reaction today was natural. Your training here is about learning to push through that terror, so others won’t have to…” Aizawa-sensei trailed off.

And then, something shifted, and he was all business again in front of her. “Now, what can you tell me about his response to the situation?” he asked, pointing to where Kaminari-san slept.

Momo bit her lip, trying to pull together the data. The moments of chaos, that gasp of fear when Kirishima had kept coming with knuckles of solid stone, and—

“Kaminari-san saw me. Our eyes met. He must have…He saw how…scared, I was,” she said. And ah, there was the rub, as one might say. She’d been trying to take the blame to protect her classmate, but it had been her fault the entire time.

A groan came from the bed, as Denki’s brain finally finished putting everything back in order. “Nnn…Someone say my name…?” he asked, opening his eyes.

And found himself, one, looking at a hospital-style ceiling. Two, looking at Yaoyorozu-san and Aizawa-sensei as soon as he sat up.

Which added up to only one thing.

“…I fucked up, didn’t I?” Denki asked, wincing.

Aizawa-sensei stood up all the way, face hidden behind his scarf again. “Kaminari. What was the first lesson I taught you, in our training sessions?”

Shit shit dammit okay think.

…Oh.

Denki sucked in a breath. At least he’d gotten to be here for a few days. A dumbass who spent a little time around the greats was something something. “Don’t self-sacrifice.”

“So, why did you?”

“Because she was—“ Denki caught himself, seeing Yaoyorozu-san right there, watching him. Could he…Nope, nah, there was only one ‘she’ in the entire building when he popped off. Well, it had been nice to have someone so smart put up with him, but dumbass gonna dumbass. “…She looked terrified. I had to help her…”

“And why didn’t you trust your teammate?” Aizawa-sensei asked.

…That sure didn’t sound like ‘and now you’re expelled’ to Denki. “Huh?” he asked. Yep, Kaminari Denki, master of word stuff. Maybe he could pop off without hurting anybody and just go back into the fog wait no there was medical stuff all around him.

“Why didn’t you think she could get out of the situation under her own power? And, following that, why would you put your life in her hands if you thought she couldn’t save her own?” Aizawa-sensei asked, really spelling it out.

Ohhhh.

Oh shit he’d fucked up even worse than he thought. Denki’s head dropped, staring down at his own hands.

“I’m…Sorry,” he said, trying to find any better words.

“We place students in these mentorships together, and start you all off with team exercises, for a reason. Heroism requires constant trust in your comrades. We’ll be working on this when you return to class.”

When he what now?

Denki looked up, trying not to be too obviously confused. “I’m…Not expelled, or put in Gen-Ed, or…”

“I only expel children without potential,” Aizawa-sensei said.

Was that supposed to be a compliment?

Before Denki could give a proper response, Aizawa-sensei turned to take his leave. “Both of you, get rest. And talk.”

And then he was gone.

Which left Denki to look over at Yaoyorozu-san, and finally notice the way her whole arm was bandaged up. “What, uh…What happened when I was out of it…?”

Oh.

Oh.

Cold

Nemuri took one, single, moment to breathe. She stopped in the hallway between two borrowed rooms, and allowed herself one ragged breath to express all the stress she felt. She’d been making such progress with these two boys, getting enough functionality and self-respect back into them to start working on the wounds they’d both gathered up…

AND THEN ONE OF THEM ALMOST KILLED THE OTHER ON ACCIDENT.

One thing was obvious.

The can of worms that was Todoroki-kun’s home life had to be cracked open. NOW.

She’d seen his full quirk registration. She knew Half-Cold, Half-Hot could manipulate fire as well as ice. It was in the name! There was trauma. There had to be. Trauma had led to him closing off, that he’d rather risk frostbite than touch on what he’d inherited from his father…

She was going to be sick to her stomach.

She was getting Zash and Zawa to take her drinking tonight. She would teach hungover if she had to. Anything to soothe the hurt in her heart, over the pain these children had endured.

But back to focus. Center. Put the sorrow behind the mask.

And the R-Rated Heroine, Midnight, stepped into the room where her other charge awaited. “Todoroki-kun. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” she said, taking the situation in.

The whole room felt several degrees colder than it had outside. The chair he was sitting in was frosty on one side…And he was clutching the opposed side of his body, his arm visibly tense and held close to him. Still more afraid of the fire than the ice.

Either some very surprising things were going to come out, or she was going to (drunkenly rant about her desire to) kill Japan’s second-ranked hero with her bare goddamned hands.

“Is he alright?” Todoroki-kun whispered, his voice so metaphorically cold as to be almost robotic… And so literally cold as to give off puffs of steam, like he was in a snow field instead of a school office.

“Mineta-kin wasn’t injured, if that’s what you’re asking…He’s certainly quite rattled, though.” Nemuri watched her language carefully. No association between his actions and Mineta-kun’s condition. No blame. She had to position herself as the one to help him out of this pit, not another hand pushing him back into it.

“I see,” was all Todoroki-kun said.

She took a seat opposite him, only a low table between them. There was a hot water dispenser, of course, and all manner of drink mixes or brewing bags…None of which had even been touched, despite how long she’d been with Mineta-kun. “Todoroki-kun…I’d like to ask you something personal. You don’t have to answer, but I have to ask.”

He looked up, silently…And oh, god, were those…There were tiny twinkles down his cold cheek, tears frozen over and stuck to his skin.

“There’s no easy way for me to ask this, so I’ll just be direct. Did your father cause that scar over your eye, Todor—“

He flinched. Buried his hot side into his shoulder, tried to hide it.

Yet she saw him shake his head. If not his father, then…? How many people had done this boy wrong?

“My…my mother. She was always crying in our home. Always suffering. The last time I saw her, she…There was a tea kettle…” Todoroki-kun trailed off, reaching his cold hand up to the scar.

…oh god…

…Of course.

He blamed his father, for whatever had driven her to such an overwhelming break. His father, from whom his fire was derived.

It all made sense.

It all made a horrifying, sickening amount of sense.

Forget the drinking.

She needed to push on Nezu. They had to accelerate the dorm proposal. These children needed somewhere safe.

But first, she had a traumatized boy in front of her. Nothing else mattered, not until she’d pulled Todoroki-kun out of some of the horrors she’d dug up from his past.

Nemuri moved before she’d even finished the thought. She came to his side of the table, wrapping her arms around him. She ignored how freezing cold the one side of him was, how the other was scalding hot. She felt him tense, but he didn’t pull away. (How touch-starved was he???) “None of it was your fault, Todoroki-kun. Not today, not what happened in your home. None of it.”

There was silence.

And then, the tiniest, paired sounds of little puffs of evaporation on one side of Todoroki-kun’s face, while little frozen droplets fell to the floor on his other side.

Little victory

He could have gone into that room. Could have sat there and talked out his feelings with the dog and the nerd, or whatever the fuck. Or maybe he could have just headed home, shouted back and forth with the old hag until dad settled things down a little and helped them process shit. Hell, he could’ve gone and found some other teacher, it wasn’t like he was the first fucker to go through this kind of ringer they’d ever seen. Just the best. (Were those the only options, best and worst, when did silver become a sign of defe—)

Bakugou Katsuki ripped the buds out of his ears, desperate for some kind of physical action to separate himself from his own head. His thoughts and earlier actions weighed heavy, despite his best efforts, as he shoved the things back into their little case to charge up. The world always sounded different without them in, more…weightless. Something about how the buds translated the higher pitches.

He let out a groan, shoving the case into his pocket, and tried not to grab his face. He was stressed. That much, even he could identify. Which meant he was sweating. That was a real quick way to plastic fuckin’ surgery, so nope. “…This is bullshit,” he muttered to himself.

This whole thing. The situations he’d thought he’d left behind. The school that had, apparently, fucked him up top to bottom. The way he couldn’t stop thinking about consequences now, when he should have been strong enough to not need to. (What kind of strength was that supposed to be?)

How the fuck had things gotten this bad, if the dog was that right about things? And then…Ugh. All of that class. Those trials. Everything with the peppermint and the grape. (TODOROKI AND MINETA) Everything with the shitty-haired redhead (KIRISHIMA), the sparkplug (KAMINARI) and the bookworm (YAOYORAZU). Shit, were those last two even okay?

He’d…Well, okay, he’d ran the hell out of the nurse’s office as soon as she’d said he didn’t have a concussion, not wanting to face anyone else (and the consequences of his own actions). So now he was sitting here, outside of a therapy office he refused to (was afraid to) enter, with basically everything sore, but nothing injured enough to justify getting knocked the fuck out to fix.

So, yeah, this was bullshit, alright.

…Fuck, he wasn’t getting anywhere like this. He needed to burn off some serious excess (nervous) energy. Katsuki pushed his way to his feet with a grunt, his legs trying to get stiff on him so they could heal. Fat chance, they had more work to do before that was happening.

There was a running track somewhere on this damn campus. Time to go find it, and clear his head. Katsuki hefted his bookbag and got to walking, checking maps posted here and there like this was the goddamned mall instead of a school, and searched for some space he could use…

And imagine his surprise when his ears, all sensitive from being fresh out of their electronic prison, picked up the sound of engine thrust coming on the winds. It was a sound worth following, especially as it led him to one of the buildings outside of the core campus. The gyms all seemed shut unless they were being used, but the door light on this one was green.

He swung it open without fear or hesitation. There was the four-eyed asshole from his class (TENYA) and some blonde he didn’t recognize, doing laps under Ectoplasm’s watchful eyes…And speaking of eyes, all three looking up at him as soon as the door opened.

…Fuck it, there’d be questions either way. If he left now, no mind-numbing workout. “I’m on the inner ring. Don’t run me over,” he called, marching in like he owned the place. He tossed his bag next to the others’ things, shrugged off his uniform jacket, and cut across the track before anyone could stop him.

Time to burn off that energy, and maybe get his own head to shut the fuck up.

(And maybe earn some real respect for once.)

Chapter Text

Saturday

As a high school, UA is a bit of a unique institution. While its six-day school week is not unheard of, it is fairly rare in this day and age, a throwback to times when most schools across Japan were viciously competitive places, without a clear and stark hierarchy so firmly established.

But that hierarchy has put UA at the top, and one does not hold the peak without a great deal of effort.

And that was why Aizawa Shouta, a man with two jobs, three cats, four adults in his phone contacts (plus 20 new problem children), and five hours of sleep last night was nonetheless standing at the front of the room. Nonetheless trying to maintain order.

Nonetheless trying to stay on his goddamn feet, despite the fact that his sleeping bag was right there, calling to him. He had never understood the story of the sirens, when he was the one sitting at one of those desks. RIP to the sailors, but he was different, he’d said as a dumb child.

Now, now he understood. And oh, it was with such effort that he looked away from that bright yellow temptress to focus on his class. “Welcome to your first Saturday class. I am, bluntly, surprised all of you actually showed up. Maybe there’s potential for you yet.”

That got the murmuring going. But importantly, it kept them all focused on him. “Anyone who actually read the syllabus,” he continued, “would know our first semester is focused on showing you the breadth of hero work. Each week will be a series of lessons on a different aspect of the field, followed by a practical lesson on Friday, and review on Saturday with your Theoretical Heroics teacher. You will also have time to reconsider decisions you have made up until this point, such as costumes and support equipment. You are highly encouraged to talk to the Support classes for adjustments. The Management classes are similarly available for help with design.”

He paused for effect, and to give them a chance to ask questions—Ah, speak of the devil. “Yes, Iida?” he asked, his gaze turning to the tightly-wound young man.

“Sensei! While the syllabus did indeed mention this, it did not speak of which aspects of heroics would be focused on in which week!” Iida said, clearly straining not to do those little chops he’d picked up as a tic. “Will we be allowed to know which ones are upcoming?”

Well, he didn’t accuse them of an error, so maybe Ectoplasm’s efforts were working on the kid’s tension. “We cannot guarantee which lesson block will fall into which week, due to the ever-changing nature of hero schedules. What I can tell you is that next week has been locked for Rescue Heroics.”

Shouta made a note of which students were particularly excited, and which were extra dismayed, by this revelation. All important information for pounding the misconceptions out of them bit by bit…And maybe helping a few find their focus.

But, one problem at a time. After all, this last week alone had uncovered a great deal of them. And he needed to properly check in with his colleagues, to get pulled into the loop on everything. He would not have a repeat of what happened with last year’s class.

He would not.

Class

Todoroki Shoto tried to keep himself as calm and controlled as he’d ever been. To push everything down, and act like everything was Normal. That it was Fine. That he was as unbothered as he always was, as unflappable as ever.

And yet, it wasn’t so easy. How could it be, when his uniform was rumpled from being worn two days in a row? When his quirk was frosting over his pen, turning the ink within to mud? When emotions that he’d locked up for years, were now simmering fiercely under the surface? His control was barely holding, and he was just sitting here. All of this from one week in school, a single combat lesson out of how many in his life…And a handful of conversations with a woman who had no reason to actually care about him.

It didn’t make sense. It made no sense at all. And so here he sat, even as he tried to not think about what the consequences would be for him when he got home tonight…And about why he’d so easily agreed to break a pattern that had held for so long.

Kayama-sensei held onto him for…He didn’t even know. He didn’t think about it. About the way he clung to her, old childhood cravings for affection bubbling up to the surface. About what she’d seen of him. His mind was too blank, to tired, for any of that to come out.

But eventually, she pulled back. And he didn’t stop her, no matter how much he wanted to keep holding and never let go. “Todoroki-kun…I can’t force you not to go home. But please tell me if there’s anywhere you’d feel safer. Even if it’s far from campus. We can make arrangements for you.”

He didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to give the things he’d said, exposed, the weight of reality by acknowledging them.

But the answers came out regardless. “My…My brother. He’s in university. Not that far from here. Closer than home.” The sentences came out sharp, separated, unable to be threaded together in his head before he just spilled each individual concept.

And yet Kayama-sensei just took it all in without a single critique or berating comment. “And you trust him?” As soon as he nodded, she gave him a nod in return, satisfied. “You can use a school phone to contact him. And here, let me get you a few staff numbers. If anything happens, call one of us, alright? Whatever the time. Memorize them, just in case.”

So that was what he did. That was how he called Natsuo, who he’d barely seen for years of training, and who he saw even less when the man had moved out for college.

That was how he’d ended up spending the night in Natsuo’s dorm room. His brother had a freshly-bought sleeping bag by the time he’d arrived, and insisted on Shoto getting the bed last night.

It had been the best night of sleep he’d had in…

Ever.

But he couldn’t make it last for very long. No matter what Natsuo said, the university simply wouldn’t let him sleep in his brother’s dorm room indefinitely. They’d kick Natsuo out if it came to it, famous hero father or not.

No, he needed a plan. Some way to keep all of this from blowing up, and spilling all his struggles on an uncaring public before he was ready to prove their judgment of him wrong.

And…Perhaps he needed to properly apologize to Mineta.

One problem at a time.

Lunch

Minoru was…Actually doing better than he thought he would. Oh, he wasn’t doing great, there was all kinds of messy trauma in nearly getting killed and he’d slept like shit…But he’d half expected to end up a full-on jabbering mess when that happened. At least, if his plan to be a cool hero that just did formal appearances and got the ladies didn’t work out.

…But that plan was starting to seem less and less like him, and more and more like the guys from his old middle school. The longer he spent around Kayama-sensei, and even Todoroki-san (despite yesterday’s…yesterday), the more he found himself wanting to peel away from that.

So that was why he had his costume’s design packet in his book bag, when lunchtime came around. And why he veered away, instead of following his classmates to the cafeteria. Aizawa-sensei was right, he needed to fix this design. Even before everything that had happened yesterday, just looking at that ridiculous thing he’d sent in made him sick to his stomach.

No more being the class clown.

He just…had to figure out who else to be. And pitch it to one of these management students so they could design a look that might change his entire future.

Easy.

Yeah.

Fuuuuuuuck.

Deep breaths. He made his little legs keep moving, working his way down the letters, past heroics, past general education, past support, all the way to management. 1-I, 1-J, 1-K. Did it matter which he chose? Really, anyone still in one of these rooms instead of racing down to lunch would do, ri—

The door to 1-I slammed open in front of him.

And for the third time in two days, Mineta Minoru was quietly certain that he was about to die. The second time at the hands of a woman. And he hadn’t even said anything stupid this time!

But you see, he’d made an egregious error. He’d thought Jiro-san was the most terrifying girl on campus.

He had been mistaken.

Because there, standing in front of him, was a delinquent of the highest order. Tanned skin, bottle-blonde hair. Big, flashy earrings running down each ear. Long, painted nails. Her uniform jacket completely gone, replaced with a cardigan, her skirt—nope don’t even look—and her socks scrunched down to look more showy. Everything about this girl was flash and loud and oh god she was glaring at him. “You gonna get out of the way or do I have to kick you?” she asked, a sneer on her lips.

“Sorry!” He stepped back, trying to gather himself. Just, okay, breathe, Minoru, breathe, you got this. You can do this. Just…Just like Kayama-sensei said. Honest and direct, right? He forced himself to take a steady breath, look her in the eye. “I…I’m from class 1-A. We were told to talk to the management classes if we need to redesign our costumes. And, I…do. Need a redesign.”

That got the terrifying delinquent to pause, and look at him a second time.

Only now, she laughed, a brassy sound like a trumpet. “Damn, okay, you’re a real go-getter, ain’tcha? You musta fucked up your design bad if you’re coming to us the first week of school…Alright, come on. We can talk over lunch, see what kind of mess I’m fixing.” With that, she just turned on her heel (was it his imagination, or had she somehow gotten indoor shoes with an actual heel?), and started marching for that cafeteria.

Once Minoru realized he was still alive, he had to run to catch up. But this would be worth it. Right?

Minoru tried to eat the pork ramen in front of him, and ignore the nerves running up and down his body. Just, eeeaaat the food. No need to panic. Don’t worry about the girl eyeing your fucking stupid costume idea that you only did because it made the other guys laugh. Yep. Calm. Still as a pond.

Slurp.

The folder slapped shut, and his lunchmate eyed him. “This costume’s fucking stupid,” Kabakebashi Ayako said to him. “Who the hell actually let you submit this? Oh, lord, they didn’t actually make this for you, did they?”

“I…Um…” Minoru’s chopsticks froze, halfway between the bowl and his mouth. Despite his best efforts, the noodles slowly slid out of his grasp, until they fell back into the broth with a plop!

Kabakebashi-san let out a long, heavy sigh. “So we’re starting from scratch. That’s not a question, I refuse to be associated with anyone going out in a battle diaper.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, not daring to anger her.

“You don’t have another practical until…Friday, right? We’ve got at least a couple days to get a design over to Support, and burn this travesty. First step, image. What kind of hero do you want people to think you are, Minocchi?”

Yet again, Minoru found himself freezing up in place. And not (just) because she had, apparently, decided he was past given-name status and all the way at nickname status.

But because that question was how he got into this mess in the first place. And he still didn’t…There wasn’t… “I…I don’t know,” slipped out of his mouth, and he tried not to stare down at his ramen. “Just not that.”

Kabakebashi-san nodded. “It’s something. At least you’re not actually fuckin’ wearing this thing. Alright…So there’s two ways we can do this. You can go think on it tonight and we reconvene, or I can give you my opinion.”

This was gonna hurt, wasn’t it? “What’s your opinion?” Minoru heard himself asking. Was this that whole disassociation thing? Had yesterday and today just sent him so far out of his own head that he was watching it all from afar?

“Alright…Tough love time, but you’re not gonna be able to pull off badass or muscle god when you’re, like, half my height. So I’m thinking we go the opposite direction, and make you appealing.”

Minoru blinked. That had…hurt less than he’d expected it to. Was it seriously just because she wasn’t trying to get under his skin, like everyone at his old school? “Appealing how?”

“Still working on that part. But I’m thinking the answer is something kinda cute and reassuring…Tell you what.” Kabakebashi-san fished out a phone with at least half a dozen charms hanging off of it, soon showing him a contact code to scan. “I’m gonna think on this and get back to you. Here, add me.”

So. That was how, for the first time in his life, Mineta Minoru ended up with a girl his own age in his contact list. And it just so happened to be the kind of girl whose first words to him had been a threat to kick him.

…Yay?

Staff meeting

Aizawa Shouta considered himself a very reasonable man. A very pragmatic man. Someone who could separate himself from trauma, who could look past the crying and the suffering and find the thing that needed doing. It was, in many ways, one of his most valuable traits as an underground hero, all too often too late to prevent damage. He’d seen a lot of hurt people. He’d seen a lot of abuse cases. And in each and every one, he’d been able to separate himself from the emotional reactions to focus on what the victims needed done.

He had to remind himself of these facts, repeatedly, as he sat and listened to the single closest person in his platonic life describe what had been done to one of his students. As he watched the closest person in his entire life comfort her, keep Nem from completely breaking down before she’d given them all a full testimony. Too much wasn’t on record besides her own account of what she’d been told, too little to let her step back from the pain.

Shouta’s hands gripped onto the chair’s armrests as tight as he could muster, finger muscles groaning against the limitations of his bones. He wanted nothing more than to destroy Endeavor, right then and there…And it still felt like nowhere near enough.

It didn’t matter that he’d only had Todoroki in his class for a week.

It didn’t matter that the things being described had happened years before Shouta had even met the boy.

It didn’t matter that they’d called out red flags on the intake meeting, and had been watching to be ready for something exactly like this.

He still felt like he’d failed, somehow. In a way that few other cases had ever gotten to him.

But he needed to be the reasonable man. He needed to be the one putting quick, practical plans of action on the table, before the rat could come up with some Machiavellian scheme. (Oh, there would be time for that. He would relish the day Endeavor was disgraced, and he would allow himself one single sip from The Bottle if the man was taken away in cuffs. But not yet. Protect the boy first.)

Shouta forced himself to take a breath, and look around the room. Every last one of them, all the teachers who passed through 1-A in a school day, were still reeling from what they’d all heard. “We need to make a choice. We either secure Todoroki a safe haven now, or we bide time to ensure he’s safely in our care when the dorm project comes online.”

The tears and bitter comments stopped cold.

Nezu sipped at another damned cup of tea, claws leaving little scratches on the porcelain. Even he was frazzled, if you knew what to look for. “A very specific set of options, Aizawa-san.”

“Are you going to make me say it?” he snapped back, feeling his quirk burning behind his eyes. “Endeavor will fight tooth and nail once things go into motion…And UA is the only group with the independent power to fight back. Even protective services would be hamstrung into uselessness.”

“…I should have known,” Yagi mumbled to himself. He somehow looked even more hollow than usual, a sunken husk of sheer horror and revulsion. “I’ve seen Endeavor bring his son to so many events, so many press conferences…How couldn’t I have seen it?”

Right. Of course. There was also that. Shouta held onto every last ounce of self control he had, forcing himself to keep on track. He could not put Japan’s number one hero back together, not until after he’d done what was right by an abused child. He kept his gaze firmly on Nezu, knowing answers were already waiting to his question. “What do we know about his brother? Is he a candidate for custody, or not?”

“I certainly don’t have all the answers, Aizawa-san…But from what I found in the initial background checks, Todoroki Natsuo is a university student living in his school dorms. Good grades, mild mannered…And no public school records until high school.”

Nobody asked where the earlier records were.

Nobody needed to.

Aizawa bit back his quirk again, tried not to think about the sheer level of pain he’d been oblivious to. “Putting Todoroki with family would make the legal conflicts simpler…We might even have cover to avoid them, if Endeavor can be convinced that the arrangement benefits his own intentions.”

Which was to say, if he thought the school was sufficiently turning his son into a weapon of revenge.

Nezu nodded. “I agree completely…I’ll have him in for an interview before the end of the school day. I can potentially pull a small stipend from the slush fund to cover an apartment for the Todoroki brothers, if it comes to it.”

A bold, direct move. There wouldn’t be much hiding that, only redirecting…or taking it head-on.

Shouta felt his shoulders slump in relief, despite himself. Nobody doubted Nezu’s dedication to his students…But hearing such a firm statement of being in the boy’s corner did quite a bit to ease Shouta’s worry.

Now they just had to figure out how to make it happen.

Theoretical Heroics

A certain…unease settled in the room, as Ishiyama-sensei completed his day’s lesson and shuffled off. The students of 1-A had gotten rather used to their typical rotating list of teachers in this first week, used to the strange sensation of learning mundane subjects from literal professional heroes. But in that time, there were two lessons that were saved to the end of the week.

One was Heroism Fundamentals, taught by the literal best superhero in the country.

The other was Theoretical Heroics. And not a single one of them knew who was about to walk through that door. Would it be Aizawa-sensei? One of the more bookish heroes, someone in the vein of the famous Sir Nighteye? Perhaps even a young up-and-comer, someone whose own learnings were still fresh in their mind? (Certainly, nobody dared imagine they’d actually get Hawks, but someone…Hawks-like?)

19 pairs of eyes stared, shocked into blankness, at the gaunt figure that walked on in. (And one green set, stared with recognition) They all watched as he pushed back some obvious emotions, his gaze sweeping over them (had he stopped, just a moment, on Shoto?) before he took a breath, settled himself.

He turned to the whiteboard behind him, writing in a sharp script almost bereft of curves. “Good afternoon, young students. I am Yagi Toshinori, and I’ll be teaching you Theoretical Heroics,” he said, a hint of…was that an American accent coming through?

Shoto had, slowly, brought himself back under control throughout the day. But now he was just confused, eyeing this man. What could he possibly have that made him qualified to teach them, the hero course students of one of the two most prestigious hero schools in the nation?

That wasn’t dismissal, it was a question. He was missing something. In his short time here, Shoto had learned that UA spared no expense or effort to get their students the best. Which meant this man was the best. But…How? What was he missing?

A pink hand shot up. “Hey, hey, are you sure you’re okay to teach us, Yagi-sensei? Do you need a chair?”

The man gave a small chuckle, the kind usually reserved for small children bluntly asking uncomfortable questions. “Young Ashido, I know my appearance might not be much, but I assure you I’m as fine as can be…That said, it gives me the opportunity to bring up something important.”

Once again, Yagi-sensei went to that board, where he wrote a single word:

CONSEQUENCES

He turned to face them. “I’m sure I’m not much to look at, children…And that is because an injury in the field did,” he paused for breath, “quite a number on me. My job is to do my absolute best to ensure none of you face the same fate.”

That got everyone quiet, as they processed it. Shoto noticed the wide eyes of Midoriya…Did the idea horrify him that much? (He’d certainly looked horrified enough, when Shoto had nearly ki— NO, don’t go down that road)

Shoto quietly abandoned his pen for a mechanical pencil, the now-frozen ink rattling inside its housing.

Yagi-sensei clapped his hands, almost too large for his lanky frame, upon the teaching desk in front of him. “So! To that end, we’ll be reviewing the footage from a few of your Fundamentals lessons yesterday. We don’t have time for everyone’s footage, so I’ve picked the most illustrative examples.”

“Now, who would like to tell me what you notice here?” Toshinori asked, as he paused the footage. A freeze frame showed the class a bout between young Tokoyami and young Iida, the two boys (plus one phantom of indeterminate gender) clashing fiercely through young Iida’s attempt to retrieve the fake bomb. Iida’s engines burned bright, filling the room with starkly angled shadows from the camera’s perspective.

He held for several long seconds, despite his boy’s hand so eagerly raised yet again. He needed to give them some chance to catch up to that brilliant mind, at least. “I’ll give you all a hint. Young Tokoyami, could you tell us what happened from your perspective after this?”

The young man grumbled, clearly somewhat embarrassed by the attention. “The depths of darkness in our urban sanctuaries fell away, and Dark Shadow and myself were cast in the light of a great flame. …And then I was kicked. Very hard.”

“I-I apologize once again, I had not expected Ashido-san’s acid to be so slippery,” young Iida started, his hands slicing in the air in a nervous tic.

Toshinori knocked his knuckles against the desk, not trusting a cough or throat clearing to get their attention. “Yes, but this shows us something key…The side effects of quirk usage, and the importance of situational awareness. Young Tokoyami, my apologies, but Dark Shadow is weakened in bright light, yes?”

As soon as the boy nodded in confirmation, Toshinori could almost see gears click into place in his students’ minds. “A very crucial weakness to manage,” he said, picking up the remote for the projector. He clicked through several frames, showing as Dark Shadow visibly receded under the light of young Iida’s engines at high burn. “Not just for the user, but for his opponent as well…If you watch closely, the light actually lowers when young Iida pushes his engines to the blue stage. If you planned for a weakness like that, you could have kept yourself emitting more visible light by using less power…And less power would mean the next mistake might have been avoided.”

They were all left watch, as Toshinori played the clip again. And of course, they’d all seen the next few moments. Young Iida hit the muck of young Ashido’s acid, lost his traction, and ended up crashing feet-first into young Tokoyami at full speed.

In the background, young Sero just walked on up and tapped the bomb, before visibly realizing his classmates were rather bruised from the crash.

The video fizzled out a moment later, finally complete.

Through all of it, they’d never watched the battle young Todoroki had been involved with…And nobody dared ask about it.

“Now,” Toshinori started, “we’re just about out of time…But this illustrates the two most important lessons of heroism. First, safety is paramount. We are servants of society, there to make things better. To save lives. To protect victims. There was a concept, in the time before quirks, for weapon safety: Always be aware of what is behind your target, and never aim at anything you do not intend to destroy. Your quirks are all wonderful, amazing things…But when used recklessly, they can swiftly become dangerous. All the things I’ll teach you over your time here, from situational awareness to weakness identification to hand-off procedure, are all in service to the safety of those involved in the situations you’ll encounter.”

He took a moment, and let it sink in, glancing to the clock. Just another minute or so, before he needed to step out and give 1-B the same lesson.

One more thing to give them.

The lesson it had taken him the longest to learn.

“The second thing, perhaps the most important thing I can teach you. You all were as careful as you could be in your Fundamentals lesson, because you were fighting your classmates, your friends…I can’t tell you how happy I am to see that we only had to talk mistakes and accidents today, and not intentional decisions…But that is something all too easily lost in the field. Remember this: We may call them villains, but rare indeed is the man with evil in his heart. Almost all of the criminals you will face will be there because of mistakes of their own or those around them, poor circumstances, their backs to the wall. It is not something glorious that we do. It is not a privilege to put someone in a hold and force them to yield.”

He couldn’t help it, a bitterness slid into his voice over the affectation of that American accent he’d picked up in his youth. All the despair, frustration at what he’d found out today, all bubbled just underneath the surface. “I’ve met a lot of heroes who never learned this lesson. Who saw villains, fellow human beings, as a tally to mark. To let them count coup, and chase their rating in some damn chart. Not a single one of them was worthy of the title hero. Whatever else you take from my lessons, class…Never forget that we are all human.”

The room was silent.

Perhaps, that was not entirely true. He noticed the smallest sounds, of a few quirks rumbling at the edge. Humidity turning to frost. An electric buzz. The slightest crackle and spark, like a lighter with no fuel left. He’d put them on edge, pushed a little too far.

But they’d needed to hear this, somehow, somewhere. And he’d needed to say it, to get some things off his own chest. “That…Will be all for today. I’ve assigned you all a simple procedure quiz for homework. Identify as many mistakes as you can in the sample. If you have the time, I encourage you to run through it blind before you check your textbooks. It can be very…illuminating. I’ll see you all next week.”

Chapter Text

After class

Todoroki Natsuo was, to be completely honest, a bit nervous.

Yesterday, alone, would have been enough to be nervous. His younger brother, a boy he barely knew (much to his regret), calling out of the blue…Sounding upset…And asking for somewhere to stay the night? That would have put the nerves on any older sibling.

He’d said yes, of course. And pivoted right off campus, to go buy something for him to sleep on. By the time Shoto had arrived, he’d gotten himself a sleeping bag, and even cleaned up a little.

And then he’d heard what had happened.

That too, alone…The secret traumas of their family getting out, and the thought of what that man might do, would have been enough for Natsuo to be nervous.

Not so nervous that he didn’t steel himself and put on a strong front for his little brother…But nervous enough that he was glad he’d made certain precautions in his adult life. And so this morning, once he’d sent Shoto off to school with a fresh meal and his best attempt at freshening up the boy’s uniform, Natsuo had intended to plan for the future. To figure out how to get his brother out of that house.

Then, he’d gotten a message from a contact he did not know, and most certainly had not given his information out to.

And that was how he found himself even more nervous, as he sat here in front of the principal of UA.

Principal Nezu smiled, baring just enough tooth to split Natsuo’s perception between adorable critter and vicious predatory beast. “I must say, Todoroki-san, you’re doing quite well for yourself, if your college records are anything to go by.”

Natsuo’s blood damn near froze.

Which, considering he’d inherited a fair bit of his mother’s resistance to the cold, was saying something.

But this wasn’t the first power play he’d been exposed to. And he wasn’t going to play a game, not today. Not with his brother on the line. “Are you trying to rile me up, or just make me feel vulnerable, Nezu-san?”

The small mammal (Natsuo’s mind ran through a dozen possibilities, memories of a time when he wanted to heal animals before he decided to heal people) just gave a chuckle, sipping at his tea. “Honestly, neither…I started by simply wanting to see if you were as intelligent as your younger brother, and of course look for any red flags I should be aware of. But I should ask…Would you prefer I call you Himura-san, to match the records?”

Natsuo forced himself to breathe steady. He’d heard that name dozens, hundreds of times. It never bothered him before.

But nobody had done their homework like this, either. “Just, call me Natsuo. If you would.”

“Of course, Natsuo-san…May I ask the reason for the discrepancy? From what I know of the situation, I can understand hesitancy, but…”

He let out another breath, frozen vapor coming from his lips like a winter’s day. Part of him wanted to drink the tea that had been set in front of him, still untouched, to try and warm up.

The rest refused to go anywhere near anything this mastermind put in front of him, until he at least knew whether he was being played like a chess pawn or a shogi one. “…You’ve probably found this out by now, but it’s my mother’s maiden name. That m…The Todoroki name isn’t anywhere on my records. It’s not much of a defense, but it’s something.”

“Mmhm…I could see that causing quite a bit of red tape for a relative unaware of your decision,” Nezu said, so obviously dancing his words around the elephant in the room.

That was the most frustrating part. Natsuo could almost, just, manage to see what was going on here…But all the little touches and tricks to lead him into it were still invisible, like so many tense threads. “With, all due respect…You called me here for more than just my college transcripts. Why am I here, and what can I do to help my brother?”

And those words seemed to actually make the little mastermind pause.

“You’re very direct, Natsuo-san…So I’ll be direct as well,” Nezu said. He set down that tea cup, and looked Natsuo square in the eye, those tight black orbs peering right into him. “There are things I am not at liberty to share, not even with family, that have me concerned for your brother’s mental and physical safety. I wish to ensure my student is able to be happy, healthy, and whole, and I am willing to expend considerable resources to ensure that happens.”

Natsuo steeled himself, as he took those words in. How many times, had he and Fuyumi cried over what they’d failed to do? How many times, after he’d found a way out, had he still had to hold his sister when she broke under the guilt?

No more tears. Time for action. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Excellent. Let me just get some paperwork, and we’ll get down to brass tacks…”

Eco-friendly

Momo, to her credit, tried not to get lost in her own head. But it was…difficult. Yesterday’s practical lesson. Today’s go-over on theory. While Todoroki-san had gotten the kindness of his mishap being left off the review tapes, she and Kaminari-san hadn’t been so lucky…And Yagi-sensei’s simple, blunt breakdown of her mistakes still rang in her ears.

“This match could have gone a hundred different ways…But the single problem linking it all together was lack of trust and understanding,” Yagi-sensei said, the video behind him paused in the midst of Momo’s clash against Kirishima-san. “Communication is one of the most underrated skills in heroics today…But knowing a colleague’s options, and having a trust to act without hesitation, is critical to success in the field. Both teams were close, but who can tell me where each erred on communicating?”

She shook her head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. She was meant to be a hero, to be Creati. She had to do better. She’d push herself in training today, so Kaminari-san would never have to worry about her a…

…that was not Gym Gamma that Aizawa-sensei had led them to. That looked like the bays of a large garage. “Sensei? Where are we?” she asked, trying to reclaim her bearings.

“Hangar…delta, if I remember the order right,” Aizawa-sensei said, swiping his keycard on the lock. “We’re working on something different today.” He paused, looking like he was considering his words. “It’s a communication exercise.”

Communication. Again and again, it seemed like that was the problem. Everyone kept saying it, kept harping on it. The one thing she couldn’t solve on a worksheet, or even with hours in her private gym.

Momo tried not to clench her fists, keep her hands open. She could do this. She would do this. She had to!

A hand grasped her shoulder, tiny hairs trying to stand on end under her uniform. “You okay, Yaoyorozu-san?” Kaminari-san whispered, looking just as uncertain as she felt. Maybe even moreso.

And oh, it was definitely more. Denki’s own nerves were flying. Bad enough that he was messing up in basically every school subject, but now his own crappy planning and talking was going to hold back the smartest girl in the class! He had to find a way to do better, to help her be better as long as she was stuck with him…

But she gave him a nod, something stern in her eyes, and Denki pulled his hand away as quick as he dared. “Okay. Just…If I can help.” With no other option, he followed Aizawa-sensei into the garage. Once the lights came on, he got a proper look, seeing…were those golf carts?

Or some kinda cart, anyways. He didn’t know carts. But there were a lot of them, some looking ready to ride out and others like they were halfway through getting put together. “So…What are we doing, exactly?” he asked, trying to make sense of it.

Then, Aizawa-sensei pulled something from his pockets. A book? A manual, it looked like, in that classic manual plain-white kind of look. For a…bike…? “These are schematics for an electric bicycle. Your goal over the next several Saturdays, will be to build one from scratch. You can use your quirks freely, and any tools or supplies you find in this garage. Any questions?”

Yaoyorozu-san’s hand went right up. “Sensei, how will we be graded for this exercise?”

“You won’t. But you’ll both have to make one circuit on the test track with the results, to encourage efficiency.”

Which was to say, Momo wasn’t allowed to simply pull one out of her body. The extent of material would take too much out of her, and she couldn’t exactly trust the long term stability of her creations over multiple weeks…And the use of an electric bicycle was an obvious decision, to force her to work with Kaminari-san more proactively…

Something in her mind latched onto it. This was a problem to solve, a puzzle with interesting restrictions and a concrete goal. Puzzles were Momo’s entire thing. She could do this. She could do this!

She just had to figure out the details.

But with renewed vigor, she held out her hand. “May I see those schematics, sensei?”

No time like the present.

Dampened spark

Katsuki sat there in the dog’s office, damn near on the opposite side of the room from De—Mi—Him. He felt his hands tense, the urge to spark off the firecracker’s worth of sweat near overwhelming.

(AND WHERE WOULD HE AIM IT THIS TIME? DEKU’S ARMS? HIS CHEST? HIS FACE, WHERE EVERYONE WOULD SEE IT—)

The extra muscle in each of his wrists clenched despite himself, a smattering of pop-pop-pop!s coming out from each palm as his sweat ignited. He froze, the shame threatening to take over, the anger trying to push it back, he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t fucking breathe shit shit fuck shit F U C K

A heavy, furred hand clamped down on one of his shoulders. Sounds were coming at him and they kept coming it sounded familiar almost like oh shit those were words. Words. Right. He was smart. The smartest. The best. He knew words. Remember what words sound like remember what words sound like…

“…kugou-kun,” the voice settled into something Katsuki could parse, “breathe with me. Put your hand here, over my lungs.”

NOPE

DEFINITELY NOT

HE’D HURT TOO MANY PEOPLE

Another spark went off, his hands clenched tight enough that he felt the heat squirt out between his knuckles.

“Right…I need you to follow my instructions, then. Breathe in when I squeeze your shoulder, Bakugou-kun. Breathe out when I let go. Understand?”

Instructions. Problems to solve. Things to prove he was good enough the best.

He could do that.

Did he nod? It felt like he nodded. His shoulder felt tight, too tight, what was wrong with his uni—right shit the instructions.

Katsuki managed to breathe, to suck one solid breath into his lungs. The grip relaxed on his shoulder, and his chest clamped down to squeeze all that air out as fast as it could.

Again, they went. Again and again, the grip going slower each time, until he was taking steady breaths.

Bit by bit, his control over his own senses came back to him. Katsuki recognized the scent of his own explosions, over the smells of the dog’s office. The dog who was, at this very moment, right in front of him, hand gripping his shoulder.

“Are you back with us, Bakugou-kun?”

His hands shook. His lungs shook, when he tried to make himself take another steady breath. “Fuck,” he whispered, trying to put his thoughts back together, to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Was that your first time having a panic attack?” the mutt asked, voice too soft and gentle.

“I didn’t,” Katsuki heard himself snarl, his bristling defenses the first thing of himself to come back online.

“Bakugou-kun…It’s alright to be imperfect.” Bullshit. “But if you don’t want to talk about this, or about yesterday, I’ll respect that. I just need you to tell me.”

Katsuki felt everything want to clench up.

He forced another shaky breath. He, he knew something wasn’t right about the way things had been before. Bit by bit, he was putting together pieces of just how fucked up everything was.

He couldn’t just…Fuckin’…Ugh.

“…I don’t want to talk about it,” he managed to say, his voice flat and dull from the effort of keeping the fury back.

And the man in front of him just nodded, as if there wasn’t any problem at all. “Then we won’t. We can talk about more pleasant topics.” He stood to his full height, returning to his chair behind that desk. “Any plans for your day off? I imagine you must be itching for a taste of the weekend, going to a six-day schedule.”

Katsuki, on some level, knew it was an out that he was being handed. But much as he was loathe to receive help from anybody, he was in no condition to turn it down. Instead, he settled right into it as let out a huff. “I’m gonna study. We’re doing rescue heroics next week. I…They never taught anyone shit about rescue work. I’ve got books to hit.” The one thing that he and…

He paused, looked.

The chair on the other side of the room was now quite empty. “…Where the hell did he go?”

“Midoriya-kun stepped out.”

“Mm.” Katsuki tried to keep his thoughts from swirling down other, nasty roads. Just focus on tomorrow. “So I need to stop at the bookstore, get some shit to read.”

“No time for hobbies?” Hound Dog asked.

Katsuki couldn’t muster up enough free strength to consider his instincts no longer putting the demeaning nicknames on the man. “Don’t have any. Not like I’ll have time for them when I’m number one.”

Hound Dog sighed. “Bakugou-kun…As a licensed therapist, I’m tempted to order you to find something, anything, to do just for your own enjoyment. Even All-Might has things he does on his downtime.”

“All-Might doesn’t have downtime,” Katsuki shot right back.

“Which of us shares a workspace with the man, again?” Hound Dog said, just eyeing Katsuki.

After several long seconds, Katsuki finally broke eye contact with a scoff. “Fuckin’ bullshit,” he muttered, before finding something akin to his voice again. “Fine. I’ll, look for some other books or something while I’m getting shit to study. Happy?”

Hound Dog just gave a shrug. “It’s a start.”

Frigid

Nemuri had an entire well of emotions to tamp down, today. The last 24 hours had been a bit much, even for the trained and experienced hero…But she could at least allow herself some relief. Nezu was handling one problem right now, building potential solutions that would mean she wouldn’t be lying awake at night with fear of her student’s safety.

As for the other big problem…Well, the simple fact that she had both boys in the same room with her spoke volumes. Not all of them good volumes, but it was something to work with. A starting point to put them both back together. “I’m glad you both could make it…I know things have been a bit hectic, but I want you to know we’re here for both of you.”

The pair of them were, unsurprisingly, a bit nervous. More than a bit. Both looked quite uncomfortable, really. But they were sitting with only a bit of extra distance between them, and Mineta-kun seemed to be handling his own situation fairly well.

Todoroki-kun was the first to speak. “Thank you, Kayama-sensei,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. Tightly wound. Frosty, even.

“Y-Yeah, that, really means a lot, Kayama-sensei,” Mineta-kun said, his own control far more…shaky. He was nervous. And not just about being around his classmate after yesterday’s…training. Something was on his mind, and he was clearly looking for a way to bring it up.

She could work with that. “So, I didn’t get a chance to see either of you in class today! The tragedy of art history, stuck on only a five day schedule. Tell me, how did everything go? Theoretical Heroics wasn’t too embarrassing for everyone, I hope?”

The boys both paused.

They even glanced to eachother, some silent question and answer passing between them, before either one spoke.

“It was fine,” Todoroki-kun said.

“We only watched a few of the matches from yesterday,” Mineta-kun said. “Yagi-sensei spent so long talking about each one that there wasn’t time for everybody’s.”

All part of the plan, of course. That one had been Nemuri’s idea; dig deep into a few folks who had made mistakes that were mostly just embarrassing rather than disastrous, to keep the rougher fights from being revisited. “Mmhm…Well, I know Yagi-san is a bit new to the teaching game, but he has more field knowledge than almost anybody else in the school. His advice won’t let you down. Was there anything else interesting that happened?” she asked, eager to keep the conversation light. They hadn’t even finished stitching up the terrible, tragic wound that had been breached yesterday, and she needed them both to be more recovered before they stumbled into any more.

Both boys stopped to think, though for almost entirely different reasons. She could see Mineta-kun searching for what to say, and Todoroki-kun almost searching for what not to say, each picking at opposite ends…

But it was Mineta-kun who spoke up first. “Oh! I, um, started working on a new costume design. Kind of. I talked to the Management Course, at least.”

Oh thank god.

Nemuri might have prided herself on never judging a student’s costume choice…But that thing had been quite possibly the worst design she’d seen in her time as a teacher. So instead, she just gave a smile, hiding her relief behind pride in his being a real go-getter. “I’m proud of you, Mineta-kun! Asking for help on something like that is never easy. Trust me, I fought tooth and nail for nearly a year to avoid someone else influencing my costume when I had to change it…But enough about me, tell me how it went! Did you get one of the little tycoons to help?”

Mineta-kun gave a nod. “I was able to ask Kabakebashi-san for advice…She’s, um, still working on it. But it’s got to be better than what I have now.”

He asked who?!

Nemuri wasn’t sure whether this feeling was a matronly pride in how far this boy had come from his disastrous start on Monday, or a maternal terror at the idea of tiny, surprisingly-innocent Mineta-kun being anywhere near Kabakebashi-chan. Either way, it was much too parental for her tastes, and she did her absolute best to press it down firmly.

And besides, one thing was certain. Kabakebashi-chan might have looked flashy, but she didn’t take shit from anyone. If Mineta-kun had gotten her help, he’d gotten it by being…well, better in how he interacted with people. This was even more progress than she’d thought at first blush. “That’s fantastic. She’s got a real eye for costume design, too. You’re in good hands, Mineta-kun, and I can’t wait to se—“

Minoru watched, as the phone startled Kayama-sensei out of her pep talk. He saw the way she paused, before something seemed to click, and she picked up the phone. “Kayama here,” she said, suddenly all business. “…Already? He just…Alright, no, you’re right. I just honestly expected it to take more. I’ll send him right down.”

What just happened?

Minoru looked to Todoroki-kun. Was…something going to happen with one of them? Sure, yesterday had…Like, he’d nearly died (nope don’t think about it don’t dwell on what nearly happened) but that hadn’t been the other boy’s fault! He shouldn’t get punished for…

…It wasn’t him getting punished, right? For nearly getting taken out like that? Right?

If Todoroki-kun had any idea what was going on, he sure as hell wasn’t talking.

But finally, the conversation ended, and Kayama-sensei dragged their attention back to her. She quickly scribbled down a note, sliding it across the desk. “I’m afraid we’ll have to cut things a bit short today, boys. Duty calls. Mineta-kun, could you take this down to 1-I for me? I want to be sure Kabakebashi-chan gets proper credit for taking on a side project so early.”

…That sounded like something she’d just made up on the damn spot.

On the other hand, it meant he wasn’t in trouble. So, with only a bit of hesitation, Minoru took the note, hopping out of his chair and going for the door. Something, though, made him pause. A consideration of the only other reason he would be getting sent off. “I’ll…see you both on Monday?” he offered, looking back, trying to read their expressions.

But Kayama-sensei didn’t crack, just giving him a nod. “Mmhm! Make sure to enjoy your weekend, Mineta-kun.”

Todoroki-kun gave a blank, silent nod, the gears in his own head clearly turning.

And then the door shut. And Todoroki Shoto was, once again, alone with the only person in the world he’d told his family’s secrets.

Until he wasn’t.

Until Kayama-sensei led Shoto towards the principal’s office, telling him only that they had a potential solution for him to escape his abuser. Which, simply couldn’t be possible. There was no escaping that man, only enduring until he could shatter everything he’d tried to turn Shoto into.

But nonetheless, the door opened. And Shoto stared, at just who was in the room. “…Natsuo? What are you doing here…?” he asked, trying to put some sense back into his view of the world. The defensive layers on his psyche earned another crack, this situation simply too not how things work for the young man to keep those barriers up.

Natsuo gave him a smile, one that almost managed to look confident. “Hey, Shoto. Today treating you any better?”

On sheer autopilot, Shoto managed a nod.

“I would certainly hope it has,” Nezu-sensei said, sitting there as if he hadn’t just broken Shoto’s mind open. “I do apologize for interrupting the pleasantries, but we have a fair bit of paperwork to go through, and I imagine Natsuo-san will want to confirm the details with you, Todoroki-kun.”

“…Paperwork?” Shoto asked, now just trying to catch up. What had…Why was…How did…

Kayama-sensei’s hand grasped his shoulder. “Want me to stick around for this, Todoroki-kun?” she asked, with a smile so sad it reminded him of the past, and so kind it belonged in his memories instead of the truth.

“I’m…Fine. I think.” Shoto forced himself to step forward, to put on the strength he’d need in this cruel world, as he looked to the small principal. “What is all of this about?”

Natsuo, he looked at Shoto…Looked briefly past Shoto, to Kayama-sensei, and back to Nezu-sensei, before his gaze settled onto the thick stack of documents on the desk. “We’re getting a new place to live, I think is the best way to describe it.”

That wasn’t possible.

That couldn’t be possible.

“Right you are, Natsuo-san,” Nezu-sensei said. “Of course, the details are a bit more complicated than that, but details always are. Pull up a seat, Todoroki-kun! I’d love your opinion on some of the options we can provide for you.”

So that was how Shoto found himself sitting in his principal’s office, where he finally learned a truth of the world.

Heroes, true heroes, helped people.

No matter who they were.

No matter if they knew they needed, or could have, that help.

No matter how impossible it should have been.

Heroes helped people.

Even him.

Chapter Text

Himura

Shoto’s eyes snapped open in an instant. The warmth of the bed left him, as he grabbed hold of enough ice to be ready. Ready to fight. Ready to hold his own. He wouldn’t be dragged into that training hall before he was even awake, not aga—

His mind caught up to reality.

First thing. This was not the room he slept in back home in that man’s house.

Shoto snapped a blade of ice into his grip, a rough spire of jagged points and fine edges. Too much training kicked to life. He’d known this day would come when he would be a target, a way to try and hurt that man, well he wasn’t going to let them use him so easi…

Second thing.

Yesterday came back to him.

He…Wasn’t kidnapped.

(Point of order, what had happened probably met at least one colloquial definition of kidnapping)

This wasn’t a prison.

This was an apartment.

He was in an apartment. In a bed. A building paid for by UA. Some part of him remembered the helpful details, how several teachers were housed in the building, a few foreign exchange students. Tsuno…Tsunotori-san, that was it, was just down the hall. Ishiyama-sensei was somewhere on the floor above, the apartment number not coming to him.

Slowly, deliberately, Shoto sat up. He let the ice-knife fall from his hand, landing in the bed so it wouldn’t damage the hardwood floor.

He wasn’t in that man’s house.

Nezu-sensei had promised he never would have to be again.

He was just in…his…home? Just an ordinary apartment, not grand or glorious in any way. Quiet. Anonymous.

His mind kept dancing around the elephant in the room, as he worked his way to his feet. He picked up the ice-knife, tucking it in for safety, and padded to the little bathroom across the hall.

Passing by another bedroom door.

And then another one.

This was a three bedroom apartment. They were going to get his mother out of that damn hospital.

Not as just charity or kindness. Nezu-sensei had been honest about that. She was part of one of his layered backup plans. If that man came, if the obfuscation and legal red tape didn’t work, then having a biological parent here would make his case more difficult. Impossible to be handled quietly, out of the public eye.

That was what made it real. Shoto understood tactics. He saw the logic in it. Saw the viability of the play, from what little he knew of the legal details. Heroes helped people.

And they did it by fighting with every last resource they had.

The ice-knife crackled and crumbled in the sink, melting under the flow of hot water as he got ready for the day. A Sunday with no enforced training, no rigorous studies, no functions to go and pretend to be the good son at.

Oh, what would he do with all his free time?

Bakugou

Katsuki ran.

He didn’t run to anything, and he didn’t run from anything specific. He just ran, a layer of neutralizing sunscreen all over his body and the bottle in his back pocket. He needed the movement, the distance, the chance to clear his head.

From any objective perspective, Bakugou Katsuki was a very athletic young man, in excellent shape. It had been a long time since he’d been truly out of breath (no room to breathe lungs full of SLIME), and he did plenty of cardio even before getting into UA. Which all added up to mean he could run, and run, and run, mind processing the last week.

He thought he had everything figured out.

And then six days was all it took to break his concept of the world.

What was it? Was it D—Midoriya, showing a quirk he shouldn’t have how the fuck did he have a quirk?

Was it talking to the m—Hound Dog, who insisted he’d been hurt by authority figures before?

Was it Heroism Fundamentals, and the amount of classmates who’d damn near gotten killed because none of them had a solid grip on what their abilities could do to a person?

(Or was it just the fact that he wasn’t in Aldera anymore, and Hound Dog was right?)

Katsuki didn’t know. And not knowing things, pissed him off.

So he ran. He ran to the point he went every morning for a quick jog, and then past it. He ran to the point he normally went on the weekends, when he had more time, and then past it. He ran to the point he’d go when he needed a workout, a real stamina test…And he ran past it.

He left the residential neighborhood entirely. Ran past corner stores and the old shopping district, where his father would go get supplies for dinner this afternoon. Past the little candy shop where the old lady used to sneak him an extra piece (she snuck everybody an extra piece), and where her son had put in some American pinball games when he inherited the shop.

Eventually, Katsuki had to stop. Even his stamina knew limits. His chest burned (don’t think about that day) and his limbs ached (DON’T THINK ABOUT IT), and finally he couldn’t run anymore. He half-walked, half-staggered around a corner of the city street, found a vending machine.

He chugged the water bottle he bought from it in record time. It left an ache in his stomach, but god the chill of the water running through his torso was a relief.

…Where the fuck was he?

Katsuki looked around, realizing only belatedly that he was pretty deep into the local commercial district.

Where he would normally catch a train for a good three, four stops to come down to. He spotted a tall building in the distance, recognizing the sign and immediately gathering his bearings.

He’d been running for…A while, if he’d gotten all the way here.

Slowly, he caught his breath. He just…processed, instead of blowing up or raging or running again.

Fuck, this was hard. Why was everything so hard now, when it had been easy before? He stood there at the corner, sipping what was left of his water as he recovered. Anyone walking by would just see a regular sporty teen recovering from a long run, unaware of the turmoil in his head.

His gaze returned to that sign. The bookstore was in the ground floors of that office building.

…Shit, he’d told Hound Dog he’d go try and find some hobby or some shit like that, didn’t he?

He let out a groan, pushing himself off the wall. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could say he tried. Not like he was going to find anything there anyways, and besides, he still needed those books on rescue heroics.

Midoriya

If you asked Izuku how his Sunday was going, he’d say it was great. He’d woken up early, only had to get himself through one nasty anxiety spike, did his morning workout, studied a little, and now he was enjoying a late breakfast with his mother.

There was just one little problem.

Midoriya Izuku was incredibly skilled at hiding the things that were really bothering him. And that skill was at full burn, the boy straining very hard to let just a tiny bit show on his face, just enough so that his mother wouldn’t worry that he was so calm that he was hiding something.

He didn’t mean to do it, not really. It wasn’t even a conscious thing at this point. After all, at age four, Izuku learned that all men were not created equal. And at age five, he learned that troubles that cannot be solved only create more misery for those around you.

(Now, these were not correct lessons, as Inui-sensei was trying to get him to internalize. But old habits die hard.)

Yet, something gave him away. It must have, because his mother gave him one of those looks. The kind that pierced through all of his efforts to pretend everything was fine. “Izuku, sweetie, what’s on your mind?” she asked, in that gentle tone that made it so hard to keep the pain from her.

“It’s…” Izuku bit his lip, his chopsticks nudging one of the rolled omelette on his plate. She’d snuck in some cheese inside the roll, just how he liked it.

When was the last time she’d done that? When had she stopped? …Oh, right. When one of the bigger kids stole his lunch for the third day in a row, and he didn’t get to eat a single one.

He started getting cafeteria food, after that.

Wait, shit, he was getting sidetracked. He shook his head, trying to get his thoughts back in order. “I’m just…Worried about Kacchan.”

Of course Izuku saw the little way his mother tensed up.

Of course he caught the fact that she was more aware than she let on.

After all, she’d tried to get him into a better school plenty of times, before UA happened. She’d never let him know about the failed attempts, never wanted his hopes up…But the teachers, they sure didn’t mind telling him when she’d been by.

But she suppressed her reaction, just as much as he’d suppressed his. “What has you worried about him…?” she asked.

“I think everything that happened Friday…got to him somehow. He…” Izuku frowned to himself, thinking through the morality of breaking confidence. How would he feel if the shoe were on the other foot? If he’d been the one freaking out, and now Kacchan had that secret?

…Counterargument, the shoe had been on the other foot many times, and it always dropped.

And at least he was looking for advice, instead of trying to hurt someone. “He, kind of had a panic attack in our counseling session.” Izuku let out a sigh, nudging his omelette slice again. “I think the idea of doing real damage to someone’s freaked him out. I hate seeing him just sit and stew in it, but I don’t know what to do…”

Now it was his mother’s turn to sigh. She reached out, taking his free hand in hers. Her thumb traced soothing circles, nudging the rough callouses that had spread out from his knuckles over the last few months. “Sweetie…I don’t know how you do it, how you still have such an immense heart for everyone around you…But this isn’t your problem to solve. Katsuki has to work through this himself, and understand just how dangerous his strength can be. Okay?”

Izuku saw the things she wasn’t saying. The things she’d probably say if his best-friend-turned-tormentor was in the room to hear them. Some part of him wanted to push back, to reach out again, to some way, somehow, put Kacchan back together and fix what they had before one quirk came in and the other didn’t.

…But dammit, he also wanted to just listen to his mother’s advice, and not fight the losing battle for once. So he gave a nod, relaxing into the warmth of her touch. “Okay.”

That got a smile out of her, the most genuine one he’d seen all day. “Good! Now finish up that breakfast. You’re a growing boy, and you need all the protein you can get.”

Kaminari

The homework was hard. It was really hard. And Denki, despite trying his hardest, couldn’t seem to focus. He’d been cooped up all day, and now he was getting that feeling where there was…Too much energy. His thoughts were frazzled, and he couldn’t get them to come together. He’d been at this for what felt like hours, and he had…One worksheet mostly done.

Out of eight.

So when he heard a knock at the door, Denki was all too eager for the distraction and new stimulation. “I’ll get it!” he called, getting up from his desk. Whoever was at the door, had to be better than banging his head against this brick wall.

…Now, imagine Denki’s surprise when he opened the door.

And saw his homeroom teacher on the other side. Dressed in an actual work shirt, his hair combed back, and looking far more professional than the rough-and-tumble hero who kicked his ass every afternoon.

Denki’s heart fell into his gut. A teacher visiting on the weekend had never, ever, in his entire life, been a good thing. “Aizawa-sensei…? What are you doing here?” he heard himself ask, his mind somewhere well away from his body.

“Kaminari,” Aizawa-sensei nodded. “The school was able to fast-track the results from your session on Thursday. Are your parents in?”

“I, uh, my mom is…Is that okay?” Denki asked, trying to catch up.

“It’ll do.”

Aizawa Shouta sipped at the tea Kaminari-san had provided, grateful for another round of caffeine. Much as he might have preferred hard-hitting coffee, it was still something on a day when he needed it.

Strictly speaking, he could have put this off until Monday. Could have been still sleeping in after dealing with a hell week, that had been capped off with last night’s rather rough patrol. Had a late brunch with his husband, knocked the dust off one of the books on the side table, enjoyed a quiet afternoon.

…But then he’d be letting the child in front of him down. Forcing him to spend even one more day struggling without the tools to overcome problems he was clearly unaware of.

Not an option.

(He would never let himself do any less than his utmost, to help them. To keep them alive.)

He let out a breath, too steady to be a sigh. “First, let me thank you both for making the time. I know UA cuts deeply into your family’s time together as it is,” he said, a line he’d had to use at least a dozen times as a teacher.

Kaminari-san met his gaze, clear worry in her features. She was almost an inverted copy of her son, her long hair dark except for a golden bolt running along her scalp. “Of course…There haven’t been any problems, have there?”

“Behaviorally, no. It’s only been a week, but your son has been fully dedicated to his studies.” He reached into the satchel by his side, pulling a few of Kaminari’s assignments…and the gym sign-in sheet. “There were, however, a few signs that pointed to there being unaddressed difficulties. Was your son ever tested for dyslexia?”

Shouta watched them both. He saw the confusion, the uncertainty on Kaminari’s face. And then the click of recognition from the boy’s mother. The moment her eyes widened, when she realized her son’s struggles had been out of his, and for that matter her, control.

She shook her head. “N, no…There was,” she swallowed a lump in her throat, trying to meet his gaze again directly, “My husband and I both worried some, when he was first learning to read…But then his quirk came in so intensely, the next few years were all about quirk counselors and making sure he could contain his electricity. By the time he could, he was in school, and his grades were…okay.”

Shouta made the briefest of mental notes to pass that along, just in case an elementary school or a few counselors needed to join the Red Folder. “Mmhm…This isn’t my field of expertise, you’ll understand, but I imagine the two are related. I also suspect this won’t be the last thing we discover about how your son’s body and mind are wired to handle his quirk. The important thing is, now that we have a shape to the problem, we can make accommodations.”

It was at that moment, that Kaminari chose to raise his hand as if he was in Shouta’s classroom. “So, wait, I’m…Back up. What’re you saying, Aizawa-sensei?”

“I’m saying, your mind has difficulty keeping characters in their proper order on the page.” Shouta splayed out the copied papers he’d retrieved, errors circled on each one.

Except, of course, for the English test sheet from Thursday. After all, it was error-free.

Kaminari stared. He looked down at the papers, back up to Shouta, back and forth again. “D…Doesn’t everybody have…that?” he asked, a wobble picking up in his voice.

Shouta simply shook his head. “If they did, I wouldn’t be here having this conversation.” He pushed the test sheet, printed off in a more accommodating font, towards the boy. “This is from Thursday. You clearly read it with little trouble, and answered the multiple choice questions correctly. You are as smart as anyone else in my class. You just need a bit of help with the words.”

The conversation that came after that, of the different ways they could accommodate Kaminari, was…long. And at points, difficult.

But it was the sort of difficult that Shouta would take a thousand times, if it helped a student in his care reach their potential.

Yaoyorazu

Why wasn’t she getting it why wasn’t she getting it why wasn’t she getting it why wasn’t she getting it “Argh!” Momo grunted, slapping her pen down onto the page.

Which, by the standards of Yaoyorozu Momo, was effectively an outburst of the highest order.

It wasn’t the homework, of course, that was causing trouble. At least, not the classwork. No, no, that was all straightforward enough. Questions, with answers. She could calculate math questions. She could research matters of art history. She could even articulate on literature analysis, though they weren’t very deep into that particular well yet.

No, the problem was in this confounded electric-bicycle assignment. She’d been at it for at least an hour here in the family study, trying to sort out the right path. The right mix of her resources, Kaminari-san’s, and the chaos factor of them both having to work together…

This was exactly the difficulty she was supposed to be working on. She could see it clear as day, now that she was actually trying to solve this. This was why Aizawa-sensei made her do this. Intellectually, she could see all of that.

But emotionally, she was a broiling storm of fury and wrath. At least, as much fury and wrath as she knew, which was…Limited.

Still, she let out a groan, closing her notebook. She needed to step away from it. But stepping away would mean getting left behind, wouldn’t it? How could she keep up, if she wasn’t constantly giving her utmost, finding all the right answers, mastering the craft, if she wasn’t the best then what was she???

The thoughts kept coming, until she physically forced herself to stand. Just…Five minutes. She just needed five minutes away from this. Nobody was going to make her irrelevant in five minutes.

Yet she still turned out the lights, and closed the door. Whatever she might have told herself, it would be a fair bit longer than five minutes before she returned to that room.

Mineta

Minoru laid there on his futon, trying to get his thoughts in something kind of like order.

Turned out, that was really hard.

It wasn’t even just any one thing. There was Friday’s whole…everything. And sure, his mother was worried sick about it. He’d heard her a few times today, trying to psych herself up, telling herself how her baby boy was becoming a man, a hero, she couldn’t coddle him, had to trust he’d come to her if it was too much, all that kinda stuff.

Hell, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had a nightmare last night about being stuck in an avalanche.

But he was…Working through it. And his mom’s mumbling was right; He was becoming a hero. Heroes ran into danger all the time. He had to keep pushing forward.

…And maybe talk to Kayama-sensei about it tomorrow.

And there was tomorrow. He’d finally gotten all the homework done, which left all the usual worries of if he’d fucked up somewhere. But eventually, he told himself that it wasn’t like that, that he’d either gotten it right or the teachers here would want to help him figure it out, enough times for the idea to mostly sink in.

Oh, and couldn’t forget all of the worry about what Kabakebashi-san had in mind for his new costume. For an image that would be appealing to people. The very idea sent some shivers down his spine, worried about just what the flashy girl would consider appealing…

But no, the real problem was…He was bored.

Okay, it wasn’t that. He was bored, and two weeks ago, he’d have had plenty of solutions to that. Stacks of manga waiting to be read. Plenty of shows to watch. Social media to scroll through.

And aaaaalllll of it was really, really, really horny and perverted.

That was the problem.

Mineta Minoru was, as he laid there in a bedroom that had gradually come to reflect the person he’d been turning into, forced to confront a simple, blunt truth.

He’d been turning into a real asshole.

One who said some really shitty things just because they’d gotten laughs at his old junior high, or worse, laughs in one of these raunchy manga! He let out a groan, trying to curl up and wrap his sheets over himself like a sushi roll at the same time. He just wanted to disappear and turn up in another world, preferably without the truck part first.

That groan was, apparently, loud enough to get a knock on his door. “Minoru-kun? Are you feeling okay, baby?” his mom’s voice sounded, worry so obvious in her voice that even he could pick it out.

His first response came to his lips before he could stop himself. “I’m fine, don’t co…”

…Dammit.

“…Mom? You still there?” he called back, forcing himself to sit up.

“Of course,” she said, voice muffled through the door. She hadn’t even moved away from it, despite…how many times had he told her to go away like that, tried to just sink deeper into all of this?

God, he was an idiot and an asshole. “Could you come in?”

The door swung open with only a moment’s hesitation, and there stepped his mom. Tall, willowy, graceful, everything you could want a mother to be. And she was right by his side, crouching down and checking his forehead. “Was it something you ate? I can get you some medicine if you need to settle your tummy—“

“M-Mom, I’m not sick!” Minoru interrupted, trying to contain the impulse to shove her back. He’d asked her here in the first place, he could do this!

He had to do this. “I just…Can you…Help me get down some of these posters? Maybe pack some things up?” he said, poking at one of the stacks of lurid manga sitting next to him. He tried not to think about how much it had all cost, how much money he’d spent on letting himself get shittier and shittier.

“Alright…” she said, pulling her hand away from his forehead. “What brought all this on?” She glanced around his room, and was it his imagination, or did he see her frown at all the buxom girls on the walls?

Whatever judgment she was giving him right now, he deserved it.

“I, I just…” Minoru found himself pulling one of his grapes loose, fiddling with it in his hand. Fidgeting, curling in on himself, all the things he always did when he got nervous. “I…Don’t…I don’t wanna be…This. Anymore.”

He steeled himself, ready for the lecture she’d give him about how long this had taken to happen, about how bad things had gotten…god, his old school had definitely called with complaints at least once, she had to know just what he’d turned int—

Everything became warm, as his mother hugged him tight. “Okay,” was all she said.

He might have cried a little.

…Or a lot.

Don’t judge.

But when Minoru put himself back together, eventually, the work began. Out came a step ladder, and with help, Minoru took each poster down one by one. They just barely fit together, rolled up in a tube left over from some doujin con or something. Stacks of media all went into boxes, packed tight and slid into the corner of his closet with great effort. Cheesecake figurines went back into their packaging, stacked atop. Plain old trash got gathered up, making a worrying amount of bags to go out over the next week.

It took over an hour to be done.

And with only the stuff he could still stand to look at dotting the shelves, and the walls bare, the room felt…empty.

He felt empty. Wrung out, like a towel used to wipe up a mess.

So he gave little protest when his mom guided him back out to the living room, put a simple curry in front of him for dinner. “Take a bath and get to bed after you’re done eating, baby, you’ve had a long day,” she told him, setting the plate down.

“Kay,” he said, too tired and embarrassed and so many other things to look her in the eye. “…Thanks.”

His mom just smiled, ruffling the safe part of his scalp with a practiced hand.

And so Minoru ate. And he washed up. And eventually, he damn near collapsed into his futon, tired hours ahead of schedule.

But one message came through, before he dozed off. One thing managed to catch his eye, and give some shape to just what tomorrow would bring.

Kabakebashi: Hey Minocchi, I got your cos sorted! Meet at lunch? 🍚

Well.

Whatever else happened in class, tomorrow was going to be…Interesting.

Chapter Text

Commute

Shoto stood at the train station, book bag casually slung across his body as if it was the most natural thing in the world. As far as anyone looking was concerned, they’d just see a young man, bright student of UA, waiting for his train. It would be hard to make the connection to that man, harder still to actually approach him about it.

Which perhaps explained why the only one lingering near him was his brother.

That, was not the most natural thing in the world. In fact, Shoto felt quite strange, after a lifetime of either solitude or formal car rides, to have someone so casually close to him. In both senses of the term.

Of course, it would break soon. Natsuo’s train was headed in the exact opposite direction, and if the time board was accurate, would be here a few minutes before Shoto’s. The both of them thus kept glancing at the different tracks, each looking for a sign of their cue to exit…And neither of them started any sort of conversation, despite how long they’d been waiting. Despite having both walked here together, from the same apartment.

A helpful chime rang through the station, an announcer pleasantly informing everyone of the train about to arrive. Natsuo’s train, of course. Right on schedule. Shoto took the slightest glance back to his brother, to ready himself for the separation, and slip back into solit—

Natsuo rolled his neck, looking up to the skylights overhead for a moment. “Ah, to hell with it,” he said, before he turned and hugged Shoto tightly. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna say it. I’m, I’m proud of you for getting out of there, Shoto. And I’m so damn happy you came to me when you needed help. Good luck at school today, alright?”

He pulled back, hands clamped on Shoto’s shoulders, and hoped the light didn’t catch the joyous, nervous, deeply emotional little ice crystals stuck to his cheeks. But if Shoto noticed them, he sure didn’t say anything.

He just looked back at him, their eyes meeting for a moment, before Shoto gave a nod. “…You too,” Shoto said, looking downwards to hide his own face.

The train rolled in. No more time for family bonding right now. Natsuo gave one quick squeeze before he let go, running for the far side of the platform.

As he scrambled for a place in the morning rush, he turned back one last time, one last look at Shoto, and lifted his hand to wave.

His brother waved back.

Review

Hizashi sat down in the meeting room, trying to stifle a yawn. He might have been more of a morning person than his husband, might have gotten an extra hour or two of rest last night…Well, no. He got an extra hour or two in the bed. He didn’t rest, not really, until Shouta was safely back in the apartment.

And they sure weren’t the only ones with stories like that, even if theirs was perhaps the most intertwined.

Which was one of the reasons why the room was already on their second hot-water dispenser of the morning, and the little drip-coffee machine in the corner was about to start work on a fresh pot. And the meeting hadn’t even started yet.

Nedzu sipped at his tea, somehow chipper despite it all. “Well, I do believe that’s everyone! I hope the traffic wasn’t too rough this morning, Yamada-san, Aizawa-san?”

Shouta grunted through his coffee, sending little caffeinated bubbles up through the liquid. It was easily the most petty and childish the man had been in days.

And it was kind of adorable, if Hizashi was honest. But work time was work time, so he just took a pull from his own mug, and tried to bring some energy. “Oh, nothing I couldn’t handle. Got here on time, didn’t I?”

“Only just,” Nedzu said, with as much cheer as ever. “But since we’re all here, let’s get things underway, shall we?”

“Besides Kaminari, initial observations caught two other cases of unaccounted-for dyslexia, one count of dyscalcula, two selective mutism, and one damaged eardrum,” Shouta recited off from his notes. “All have been spoken to, and those of you who have the students in question should have received info packets on how to best accommodate them.”

Snipe raised his hand briefly, just enough to let Shouta finish before he cut in. “I was readin’ through those packets last night, and I noticed sign language come up for both the speech impediments and the ear damage…Seems to me we might be best off making that standard. ‘Sides, it’ll give the rest of ‘em a leg up when they hit Communications in their second year.”

Nemuri nodded along. “That’s a great point. Especially once the more active training programs start up, there’s bound to be injuries no matter how safe we are. The more avenues of communication they have, the better. I’m in favor.”

Ryo flipped through his papers, claws catching on the edges just enough to help him find his place. “No compelled reports from the first week. I have a check-in scheduled with all of the 1-A students over the incidents with their field trial, and am trying to schedule proper sessions with Todoroki-kun.”

“Give it time, Inui-san,” Nedzu said. “He’s been through a lot, and trusting authority figures will be difficult…And what of Bakugou-kun and Midoriya-kun? Any news to report there?”

“Without going into specifics, watch them both for signs of an anxiety attack coming on. Keep your doors ajar, so either of them can step out,” Ryo said. “I may send them to sign up for clubs, as well. It’s ahead of our usual schedule, but I’ll give my recommendation for an exception.”

Toshinori fumbled with his tablet, silently cursing his neglect of the slow evolution of technology. He was not old enough to be having this much trouble, dammit…! But finally, he found where he’d been putting his notes, and let out a sigh. “Ah, I’m sorry…But yes. I’ve talked with Thirteen on the rescue introduction. We’ve agreed to keep it more closely supervised and guided, to avoid the problems of the first week…”

Nemuri sighed, resisting the urge to rub her temples. “There was a harassment complaint in my email this morning, from one of the girls in the Management course. I know we’ve been talking about doing an awareness campaign, but we’ve got to step it up. We’ve got kids seeing how I choose to present myself and thinking that lets them treat their classmates like meat!”

“Mm,” Hizashi murmured, taking another pull of his coffee. “We already earmarked some time right before the sports festival for presentations, right? It’s a bit away, but…”

The only thing that kept Nemuri’s frustration from turning into anger, was having their incredibly tightly packed schedule in front of her. Even with the newly spread-out intro semester program, they barely had room to breathe, let alone do a sensitivity training seminar. “It may as well be a lifetime away, with how fast trouble is starting. I can’t believe this is still happening. For god’s sake, it’s the year—“

The coffee machine dinged, loudly, and cut her off.

Nedzu frowned to himself, stirring his latest cup of tea. He waited until the coffee machine was done making its infernal racket, and only then did he look at his staff. “Schedule or not, I’m not fond of this happening in my school. I will find time for us to go over it properly, Kayama-san. For today, please forward me that email so I can speak to each of the parties involved. I’d also encourage everyone to remind the students of our code of conduct. We don’t want any blame on this poor girl, so we’ll go over it gradually over the course of the week.”

Hizashi finally brought up his notes, a small mountain of early grades. “So I was looking over the first week’s assignments, figuring out where all the students are starting off…Is it too soon to start encouraging study groups? Some of these gaps are big.”

Kan-san lifted his hand to cut in. “What’s our thought on encouraging inter-class groups, if we do? I know a friendly rivalry sparks improvement, but I’ve got a couple resentment cases in 1-B.”

Shouta looked up from his coffee, suddenly more alert. “Check back with me tomorrow, Kan-san. I want to see how Yaoyorozu in my class is doing before I put the potential pressure on her, in either direction.”

Nedzu nodded along. “I’m certainly not opposed to encouraging our students to work together for their education. You all have closer connections with your classes, so I’ll let each of you manage the question of who should work with who. I know we have a few flags already up, so please do communicate thoroughly.”

Lunch

The weirdest thing for Minoru, might have just been how…normal everything was today. He’d gotten up way too damn early, his mom had made him breakfast and sent him on his way, he’d only just gotten on campus before they shut the ornamental gates…Just. You know. A completely ordinary morning.

Okay, sure, the bag of burnable trash he’d dropped off on the way out had been almost entirely pinup posters, but aside from that…

But now, as he gathered his things up for lunch, funneling out of the classroom with the rest of 1-A, he had a not so normal moment ahead of him. A choice to make. Did he go down to the cafeteria, or go try to find Kabakebashi-san at her class? Would she have run down to the cafeteria, or would she be waiting for him? Why was all of this so complicated, and why did he feel so weird about just sending her a message to ask, the way any one of his classmates (well, most of them) would do—

“Yo, Minocchi, there you are!” came Kabakebashi-san’s voice. The hero students who’d dawdled only vaguely looked up, seeing just who was being so loud at what barely qualified as ‘afternoon’…

And thus got a front row seat to a tall, brassy, flashy gyaru snatching up their smallest of classmates by the arm. “I was wonderin’ where you were! You never messaged me back, ya jackass,” she said, not even slowing her stride. Which meant that she went from pulling Minoru in one direction, to walking past him, to pulling him along behind her. “Sorry, heroes, but I’m borrowing Minocchi today. He and I got business,” she said, giving a quick wave behind her with her free hand. In mere moments, she turned a corner, and with one last look back at his classmates, Minoru was gone.

The dawdlers watched, a slow and confused silence hanging over them.

“…So…Who was that?” Kyoka asked, pointing to the corner.

“I have no idea,” Denki said, staring at what had just happened. “Should we go…Help him, or something?”

Fumikage shook his head, letting out a deep sigh. “His is a journey that must be walked alone.”

“Also, the flashy lady scares me!” Dark Shadow cut in, their tone in that halfway space between joke and real statement that could go either way.

“…Is…Everything okay?” Minoru managed to ask, now seated across from Kabakebashi-san. It took some doing to find the words, since he was so unused to using them in earnest…And also, because she had spent the last several minutes staring into her lunch like it had personally insulted her.

She groaned, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “I’m fine. Just some jackass in my fuckin’ class being a shitty little perv. Again. I swear, if they don’t do something about it…”

But she shook her head, turning her attention to him. “Nevermind, not your problem. I didn’t bring you along to hear me bitch, I brought you here to see your new costume design! …Are you okay? You look kinda pale.”

“Fine, just nervous,” Minoru lied through his goddamned teeth. After all, he was not going to tell her that less than two weeks ago, he was exactly like the guy she was so upset about, and was now seeing the consequences of his own actions as if through a funhouse mirror. Nope. Definitely not. That was a conversation for future never Minocchi to worry about.

“Uh huh…Well, take a look at this and see if those nerves go away.” She slid a folder over to him, hooking a thumbnail to flip it open. “The whole idea I latched onto was friendly dangerous. You know, like the heroes in kid shows?”

He nodded along to her words, but he wasn’t really listening. He was staring into a different future.

She’d completely discarded his old design, and even the theme around it. The hero name he’d jotted down to eventually submit, Grape Juice, was nowhere to be seen on these documents.

At first glance, it looked less like a hero suit and more like a mascot one. The outfit’s outline was clearly divided into two halves, with separate pants instead of being a singular suit. The pants were baggy around the legs, coming in tighter around a set of toed running shoes.

But it was the upper half that drew Minoru’s attention, and made him pause. The version on the left, labeled CASUAL, looked basically like a hoodie. Open front to a vaguely sketched t-shirt, with the sleeves baggy just like the pant legs to come down to gloved hands. She’d even drawn his grapes on the short mannequin’s head.

The reason for that, became all the more obvious on the other sketch. This one was labeled BATTLE, and on it the whole shape came together. The hoodie was zipped up, lifting a collar over the mannequin’s throat and chin, while the hood tipped entirely over his head and extended forward.

Because it had the shape of some kind of lizard’s head. His own eyes (or the mannequin’s, or…whatever) peeked out through where the lizard’s would have been, and a slit ran through the top of the hood for his grapes to stick out…with arrows pointing to them, helpfully describing them as RIDGES. The rear view showed DECORATIVE RIDGES going all the way down the back of the hoodie, to a pointed back that suggested a stubby tail.

It was as complete a rebranding as there could possibly be.

“So, if you look here, I’ve been kicking ideas around with a senpai of mine, she’s a second-year in the Support program over at Seiai, and there’s this really slick self-expanding fabric that just hit the market. The whole jacket would be made out of it, so when you zip it up, the baggy parts actually suck against your body, and then puff up to protect your vulnerable parts like a kevlar airbag, isn’t that rad?” Kabakebashi-san said.

Well, she’d been saying a lot of things, but that was about the part where Minoru’s brain registered words again. He looked up, trying to figure out if he even liked it or not.

Which was the problem with not entirely knowing who you were because you scraped all the awful, awful gunk off. “It’s…Different. Really different.”

“Well, yeah,” Kabakebashi-san said, twirling a pencil between her fingers. She’d clearly been pointing at things, not that he’d been hearing her properly. “Trust me, I tried finding a way to keep your theme, but it either got lost in the shuffle or it ended up looking nearly as bad as that battle diaper. If you don’t like it, we can figure out a new angle, but you’ll have to give me something to work with.”

Minoru bit his lip, trying to think. He didn’t dislike it. It wasn’t bad or wrong. It just…Something… “…Do you think we can make it purple, kind of?”

“Hrm…I was originally thinking a blue or green for the main body, something to offset the ridges and your hair…Buuuuut,” Kabakebashi-San said, taking the design folder back. She glanced at her pencil just for a moment, before tapping the tip against her thumbnail. There was a tiny flash, and when she started to shade in the design, it came out the same shade of purple as was painted on her thumb.

KABAKEBASHI AYAKO - QUIRK: NAIL POLISH! Her nails can copy the color from anything they touch, and can send the color out to yielding materials such as graphite! It’s not exactly the deadliest quirk, but for a designer, it’s like having a paint palette at the end of every finger! YEAH!

Almost as fast as it was taken away, Minoru had the paper in front of him again. Now, the BATTLE version was colored in, with a rich violet just a shade brighter than his hair. The belly and inner side of the limbs faded into a stark, near-crimson orange, while the rear view darkened until the decorative ridges matched the ‘real’ ones.

“The orange might be a little much, but it gives it some contrast, and plays into the name idea. Plus it gives it a little bit of a…homegrown appeal, you know?” she said, eyeing him up. “So alright, calling you to the carpet, Minocchi. Yay or nay? We taking this to get it approved, or we starting from scratch?”

It was still different.

But the colors, and the deeper hues, felt a little more…real. A little closer to what was left, once he’d scraped all the gunk off himself.

“I…I want to give it a try,” Minoru said, looking back up. Looking her in the eye.

He needed to be more confident. More able to match her.

Because soon, he was going to be the stick-and-climb hero, Cynops.

Talk

Another day of classes, another swirl of too many thoughts and not enough space to clear them out. And when it was all over, as the various students filtered out to see whoever they were supposed to see, two found themselves in a hall again, waiting their turn.

Katsuki flexed his hands, trying to keep the muscles loose. They had a real tendency to get stiff if he was tense for too long, he’d discovered. Popping off would loosen everything back up, but. Well. A certain green-haired classmate was three chairs down (AND HE’D TRAUMATIZED HIM ENOUGH FOR ONE LIFETIME), to say nothing of whoever was in that room right now.

Wasn’t his place to ask. That much was firm in Katsuki’s mind, as he looked down at his hands once again. Part of him wanted to get some books out of his bag there by his feet, use the time to study or research. Part of him hated (feared) the idea of anyone actually seeing him study (knowing he had to work for it).

And the rest of him just figured that Hound Dog would come get them as soon as he had the book out, because that’s just how the universe works.

Besides…He looked up, something feeling a bit off.

And found himself looking eye to eye with the boy he’d spent a lifetime calling Deku.

“Kacchan,” the boy said, meeting Katsuki’s gaze. He looked like he wanted to flinch, to back off, but something held him up like steel, kept him at the ready. “N, not today. But one of these times, we need to talk about that day.”

Katsuki didn’t need to ask which day.

There was only one day that could come up like that. A day they’d both skirted around, picking at the edges.

A day when he’d nearly died, smothered and drowned by a bastard made of slime. (can’t breathe no air NOBODY HELPING)

A day when, apparently, so had Midoriya. (WHAT WAS HE DOING THERE WHY DIDN’T ANYONE ELSE DO ANYTHING)

A day when…When he’d (TOLD HIM TO JUMP OFF THE ROOF DESTROYED HIS NOTES TRIED TO BREAK HIM ONCE AND FOR ALL)—

Katsuki shook his head, forced himself to catch his breath. Steady. Focus. Don’t…No. Not now. Too much to do today. Freak out later. Push it down. Push it the fuck down!

He took a single, shuddering breath. Looked up. And there was the boy he’d tormented, still there, still upright. “Not today. And…”

Katsuki’s hands shook, the stress building up. He itched to pop off so fucking badly, just to vent off the emotions into the air. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not here, not now. “And, I’ll be the one to say what…Say what I did.”

Midoriya (he didn’t deserve to use the boy’s name not even in his own head) eyed him warily. The space went silent, the two just holding steady…

But finally, the other boy nodded. “Yeah.”

The door opened, not long after that. Could’ve been a second, could’ve been ten minutes, Katsuki couldn’t have told you if he tried.

It had just clicked, how much of a sword of Damocles was really hanging over his head.

“So, I know you mentioned hobbies during our makeup session,” Midoriya said, somehow more nervous now than when he’d been staring Katsuki down, “but I couldn’t really find anything…I kind of just went back to my research notes…”

“Mm,” Hound Dog responded, rubbing his chin. “It’s not an immediate thing, Midoriya-kun. And remember, the point is to have something that doesn’t add to your stress. If you let yourself get stressed trying find that something, it defeats the point.”

Midoriya gave off a laugh, a brief and anxious thing. (Just how much had that confrontation taken out of him?) “I guess you’re right. Still, I’ll keep looking…”

“Now, you’ve mentioned these research notes a few times.” Hound Dog glanced to Katsuki, and was his flinch at the man’s gaze that obvious? “Do you feel comfortable letting me take a look?”

“Um, it’s just…” Midoriya started. But then he glanced over at Katsuki, and something steeled up in the boy. “…Sure. Yeah. The only one I have on me is theorycraft from…Last week. You know, the heroics class. Trying to figure out how to keep it from happening again.”

And with that, Midoriya just reached into his own book bag, pulled out one of those cheap homework notebooks he liked to use, and held it out to Hound Dog. (EXACTLY LIKE THE ONE HE’D SET ON FIRE)

Katsuki’s breath shuddered again. But he held it, kept from another panic attack, as he watched the man skim through it.

“My, my, my,” Hound Dog said, partway through the book.

And oh, Katsuki saw how Midoriya flinched this time, that steel core giving way as soon as he didn’t have something to push himself against. “It’s pretty rough, I know. Half of it’s from that day, so I was really short on time, and…”

Hound Dog held up a hand. “No justifications necessary, Midoriya-kun. I’d like to have another conversation with you about these, one on one, but this is good analysis work for someone of your age.”

Katsuki blinked. It was? Those, (stalker notes) were good?

Midoriya blinked. “It is? It’s just some notes, I didn’t…”

“It’s a bit unrefined, but you’re already asking the right questions.” Hound Dog held the notebook out, letting Midoriya take it back.

And then he turned his gaze onto Katsuki. “How about your weekend, Bakugou-kun? Were you able to get to the bookstore?”

“I…Yeah,” Katsuki said. “Went down early yesterday. Mostly just got some stuff on Rescue Heroics.”

Katsuki stood there in the bookstore, feeling a little bit more settled now that he had a stack of things to buy. Studying, problem solving, this made sense in a way that the last week hadn’t. Now, he just had to skim the Hobby section and prove there wasn’t anything for him here, and he cou—

“Oh, Bakugou-san! What a coincidence, running into you here,” came the voice of (four-eyes) Iida, the taller boy walking up with books of his own. “Speaking of running, are you alright? You seemed out of sorts when you came into the gym the other day…” At least he couldn’t do that damn chopping thing with his arms full.

Katsuki pushed it down again, pressing against his frustration (and shame). “It’s…Don’t worry about it,” he said. He wouldn’t admit it. Couldn’t admit it. He just stared ahead, eyeing the books in front of him.

“Mm…For what it’s worth, I know we’ve only been classmates a week, but…If you need an open ear…” Iida trailed off, obviously looking for the right words. He was obviously about as used to this as Katsuki was.

“What I need is…” He shook his head. Tried to remind himself that Iida wasn’t from Aldera, probably even meant what he was saying. “I’m dealing with it.”

“Then…I suppose I shall see you tomorrow, Bakugou-san,” Iida said, obviously making himself back off. Right. Of course. They both had problems.

And then he was gone. Leaving Katsuki alone, just staring at the hobby books. Despite his efforts to look at nothing in particular, his eyes kept getting drawn to one cover facing out, to a particular promise out of all the ones these books made.

Ultimately, one ended up on the stack with all his other purchases. He hefted them up and headed for the counter, before he could second-guess himself. The sooner he got out of here, the better.

“I didn’t find any hobby shit, though,” Katsuki lied, hands flexing open and shut in his lap.

Hound Dog watched him, really watched him…But finally gave a shrug. “Fair enough. Like I was saying to Midoriya-kun, it’s not an overnight thing. Just looking for something to do with your time besides heroics is important. Now, how are you feeling with some distance from Friday?”

The questions and topics came more easily, back and forth. Katsuki gave his own responses, heard Midoriya’s, a new subject came up from one of them, new responses. His lie slid into the background, almost completely forgotten.

It, he wasn’t…

He wasn’t trying to lie. He just didn’t know if this was for him, yet. And something about trying to talk about a thing so early ate at Katsuki, felt too presumptuous.

After all, what the hell was a guy like him doing trying to learn photography?

Chapter Text

Wednesday

Momo thrust her spear forward, already shifting her grip in mid-strike. She knew Aizawa-sensei would dodge again, she needed to be ready to catch him, to spin the weapon into his side for once—

He didn’t dodge.

Rather, he parried, smacking the simple weapon aside at the precise moment she had tried to shift and prepare for her next strike. With her grip loose and uncertain, the spear simply launched out of her hands, spiraling off to one side before she could get it back.

And then there was a training knife at her collarbone, dull rubber signaling her defeat before she could even think of the next tool to conjure. “You’re trying to be too clever,” Aizawa-sensei said, keeping the prop right there. “Focus on the fundamentals first. Worry about what I’m doing now, not what I might do next.”

It was only her dutiful, gentle nature (and need to be a Good Student) that kept all of her frustration inside. “Yes, sensei,” she said, and stepped back.

“Mm.” He tucked the training knife away, the weapon disappearing somewhere into his loose jumpsuit. No flourish, no obvious trick; just, one moment it was in his hand, the next she had no idea where it was. “Is something on your mind, Yaoyorazu?”

Oh, no.

Something had slipped out.

But what? How? She’d been so careful… “Whatever do you mean, sensei…?”

“This entire week, you’ve been laser focused on trying to get a single hit in, to the detriment of your continued ability to stay in the fight and on your feet,” he said, blunt and to the point. “The way it looks to me, you’ve made the decision that a successful contact is the mark of success, and no other metric counts.”

She couldn’t hide the wince that came out.

Because somehow, he’d hit on it exactly.

From off to the side, Kaminari-san started to work his way back to his feet, ready for his turn. “So what’re we supposed to be doing, then, if we’re not trying to hit you?” he asked, walking over to where the spear had landed. “Mind if I borrow this, Yaoyorozu-san?”

“Go right ahead,” she said automatically, the politeness kicking in as a mantra.

While Aizawa-sensei rolled his shoulders, settling into a different stance. “You’re doing everything you’re supposed to. But the metric is not hitting me. The metric is in dealing with the failure to do so. Come however you like, Kaminari.”

Momo slumped down into a seated position, watching this latest bout. She was lost in a daze, one hand fumbling for a water bottle as she watched, and processed. A lesson hidden in a lesson. But…failure wasn’t…

You weren’t supposed to deal with failure.

You were supposed to not fail.

Failures didn’t get you to top of the class, they didn’t get you recognized, and they didn’t get you any closer to your dream. Dealing with them was…Useful, Momo supposed, on an intellectual level.

On an emotional one, she had failed more in the last week and a half than the entire previous decade of her easily remembered life. What she needed was to be better, to get out of this terrible loop and—

Kaminari-san slid across the floor, coming to a stop next to her. They were in Gym Iota today, built for full contact sparring. The floor had some sort of treatment she hadn’t been able to identify, that absorbed the shock of impact thoroughly enough that it was safe to fall onto. But it clearly did little against sideways momentum, and thus…

“I’m okay,” Kaminari-san wheezed out, the borrowed spear completely ripped out of his grasp and now in Aizawa-sensei’s hands.

“Good.” Aizawa-sensei judged the weapon briefly, before he spun it around to put the blunt end forward. “We’ll try some variety. Yaoyorozu, your turn.”

“Yes, sensei,” she said, forcing herself back to her feet. Another chance to learn how to deal with failure.

What joy.

Support

Izuku gave a quick set of knocks on the Design Lab door, unsure just what he would find on the other side. He’d seen some terrifying things, when he’d come down here last week for measurements and assessment…

And yet things were not so terrifying when the large door slid open. In fact, it was quiet. …Was quiet good, at a place like this? Or had he instead opened up something truly terrible, so bad that people had gone silent—

“Ah, Midoriya-kun!” came the voice of Maijima-sensei. His large interface helmet sat open upon his head, and instead of a bare chest to deal with the heat of his famous load-armor, he had a work apron over a loose shirt. “Excellent timing. I just managed to get things calmed down. Come in, come in, I’ll introduce you to one of my students. She’ll be working on the maintenance for your new equipment, until we get them fully dialed in.”

For a single, shuddering moment, Izuku’s blood ran cold. A phantom laugh echoed through his mind, from a certain pink-haired girl who had looked at him, and seen such potential for babies.

No he wasn’t traumatized why do you ask.

“I-Is that so…Is she another first-year, like me?” he asked, his legs automatically following Maijima-sensei into the room. The source, or rather lack thereof, for the quiet became obvious; there simply wasn’t anyone else here. Not like how it had been when he’d come down last time.

“Absolutely not,” Maijima-sensei said. “I have a lot of promising kids this year, but this is high-stress equipment. I’m only even trusting Dodenritsu-chan on maintenance. I did the fabrication myself.”

Izuku…went through several emotions, in those few seconds. Relief. Confusion. Startlement. Disbelief. “I…T-Thank you, sir! I, can’t believe you’d go to all that trouble for—“

Maijima-sensei clapped a hand on his shoulder, that heavy glove squeezing in reassurance. “It’s not trouble, Midoriya-kun, it’s my job. Both as a teacher, and as a Support Hero. Nothing makes me prouder than knowing I can help someone overcome their limits. …But enough of the weighty emotions, let’s get you ready to wreck some things.”

The Design Lab was a thoroughly sectioned place. Even the core Lab needed a great deal of space, and for those spaces to be walled off such that no experiments and tests could lead to others getting hurt. Which explained the sheer number of doors they’d had to cross through, before Izuku found himself in front of the woman he’d be trusting his future to.

Dodenritsu Kei gave a broad grin, her toned arms crossed over her chest. She stood tall, broad-shouldered, with hair that gleamed silver swept back into a bob that barely touched the back of her neck. “There’s the man of the hour! Midoriya-kun, right?” She uncrossed her arms, offering one to shake. “Dodenritsu, but you can just call me Ritsu. All my friends do.”

Izuku took the offered hand, and felt just how much strength was in it. “A-Alright, Ritsu,” he said, feeling out the nickname. “I…Don’t really have anything my friends call me. So just Izuku is fine,” he offered. Friendship at all was still…new, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Izuku it is! Let’s get down to business, then, we’ll have plenty of time for pleasantries while I’m getting these puppies dialed in,” she said, and then it was right to the workbench dominating the center of the room.

There sat a large case, freshly polished…And as Ritsu opened the thing up, Izuku saw them nestled inside.

Two shining red gauntlets, built custom to fit his hands and forearms as close as possible. They needed to, with the extra bulk added from the layers of shaped metal on them, to keep compact. They looked almost like something off a pre-Quirk era model kit, of those giant robots, with vents running back along his elbows.

He stared, eyes wide, at the designs. These would help him. These would let him control One For All, even if nobody else knew it by that name. And they’d give him the chance to catch up, to be as strong as everyone around him. They were a lifeline.

But Izuku pushed all that down, to focus on the immediate question. “How do they work?”

“Not easily,” Maijima-sensei said, giving a chuckle. “I took the readings off your strike on the Zero-Pointer…Building a way to handle that much force was an interesting problem, alright.”

Ritsu’s grin just widened, as she pulled one of the gauntlets out of its protective foam. “Sensei actually had to pull strings and talk to some folks at I-Island. You ever hear of it, Izuku?”

Of course he had! How could he have not heard of the scientific and Support artificial research island, the one built and helmed by one of the only two men to have worked alongside All-Might??? “It’s…pretty incredible,” he said, trying to find the words without just falling into fanboy jabbering. “I’d love to go there someday…”

“Right? It’s not just cutting edge, it’s the knife making the cut! I-Island is…Gah, I’m jealous that he even got to have a phonecall with the people there,” Ritsu said.

“It wasn’t so dramatic, kiddo. You’re already making contacts, besides,” Maijima-sensei interjected, though he looked more amused than annoyed.

But the girl just rolled her eyes, keeping her attention firmly on Izuku. “Anyways, turns out one of their researchers had a similar project mothballed…Sensei took the plans, simplified them out a bit and added a few quality of life improvements, and tada, the Mk I Gyrosopic Force Integration System. But you, my small green friend, can just call them the punch fists.”

She held it out to him, his future held just within his grasp yet again. A crossroads, that would define the kind of hero, the kind of man, Izuku was…And she didn’t even know it. “Ready to try them out?”

Red

Shoto felt the phantom sensation of ice in his gut. Cold, heavy, yawning and aching. Yet his legs moved on autopilot, one in front of the other, as he followed behind Kayama-sensei. Now, a lot of people seemed to think Shoto didn’t know about people. And it was true that some of the things they said went over his head, turns of phrase he was unfamiliar with that they somehow all just knew. Or that some of the ways they acted didn’t make sense, how quickly they let guards down and made themselves vulnerable.

But he knew how to read people. How to watch for signs of emotion. It was the kind of skill that kept you alive, in a house like the one he’d grown up in. So he observed Kayama-sensei. He’d seen she was already stressed, when the three of them had their after-class session. Something troubled her, even if she wouldn’t mention it.

Which, at least, meant it had nothing to do with either him or Mineta.

But then, as the session ran on, her stress had built.

And after Mineta was sent on his way, she asked him to follow her.

He’d walked this path once before. They were tracing their same steps, to the principal’s office…And that could not mean good news, if she was so upset by the matter. Poor news, that was not his doing but involved him, left few options.

All of them shaped like a certain man.

So that phantom ice in Shoto’s gut only grew, a swelling rock that left him feeling like his Quirk was out of control. One side shivered with chills, the other glistened with sweat. He could hold it back, could keep things on lockdown…But the secondary effects were harder to regulate.

The door opened before Kayama-sensei could even raise her hand to knock. “Come in, come in,” Nezu-sensei said, looking serious. As serious as a mystery-mammal could.

More importantly, he was alone.

Several of the worst options split off of Shoto’s mind immediately. The ice in his gut melted some, shrinking as he stepped into the room. “What’s going on?” he asked. He couldn’t deal with pleasantries and delays, not right now. He needed to know.

To know he was safe. To know his siblings wouldn’t be hurt.

To know that man couldn’t come for him. To know that nobody knew where Natsuo lived.

To know they’d protect him. To know that they’d protect his mother.

Nezu-sensei took a breath, paws fidgeting for a cup of tea that wasn’t there. “Yes, we should get straight to it…I feel obligated to inform you that Endeavor called the school, asking for you. Demanding, really.”

His entire stomach felt like it had frozen into a single solid mass. Spires of his ice might as well have driven their way out into his organs. He saw Kayama-sensei wince, taking a single step away from his cursed side. The heat he must have been putting off…

He clenched his fists, ignored the way they both shook, and looked his principal in the eye. “Then what happens now?”

“Nothing.” Nezu-sensei finally clasped his paws together, looking Shoto right back in the eye. “Todoroki-kun, I want to be clear. You are under our protection. The only way he will come near you as long as you are my student, is if you personally consent to it. I have pushed back men crueler than him, and I will do it again if it comes to it. His ranking will only make our efforts louder, not any more difficult.”

Shoto let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Saw the way even that was bifurcated, one side letting out puffs of frost, while the other came out hot enough to create brief shimmers in front of his gaze. “…Okay. Okay,” he said, his temperatures slowly coming back towards a middle-ground. “Then…Why tell me all of this now?”

“To keep you informed, Todoroki-kun. Information is power, after all…And you should be abreast of what is to come. Knowing his type, I expect he’ll be attempting to make an appearance on campus sooner rather than later,” Nezu-sensei said.

Once his shoulder was safe to touch, he felt Kayama-sensei’s hand test it, before it settled into a gentle squeeze.

He was under their protection. He would be okay. He could breathe. He needed to breathe, to focus. He forced a breath, his lungs trying to settle. “What do I need to do?” he asked. All the important questions. Figure them out first.

“You don’t need to worry,” Kayama-sensei interjected. “We’re going to take care of it.”

“Quite right,” Nezu-sensei said. “We have several disabling heroes on campus as is, including Kayama-san herself…And if it comes to it, Todoroki-kun, I do have the number one hero on my payroll.”

All Might.

Oh, that was…Those were complicated emotions. Things Shoto had never been taught the words for. A conflicting, raging storm in his mind, all swept up from the very moment the training had truly begun…No, even sooner, from before his own birth, from the day that man first laid eyes on his mo—

“M-My mother,” Shoto said, slipping over his own words. “What is happening with my mother?”

He heard Kayama-sensei’s little calming noises stop. Felt her still. Did she know something? Did she not know anything, and that worried her?

Nezu-sensei gave a frown. “I haven’t heard anything about her, unfortunately…And even my best lawyers can only work so fast to untangle her case, to prove she’s a victim herself and well past the point of safety…”

“She’s…” Shoto tried to find the language, to make his mind work. “It’s a private facility. Expensive. The, his agency pays it. What happens if he cuts it off?”

He didn’t want to have this conversation. He wasn’t ready to face her again, not when he still hadn’t overcome the curse that man had burdened him with, not when he still bore the reminders, the things that had finally broken—

“If that happens, I will make sure she has somewhere to go, Todoroki-kun. We picked the three-bedroom apartment for just that reason, right?” Nezu-sensei said, pulling him from his thoughts.

His mouth opened, closed, knocked off the track. “It’s…They…” They wouldn’t give him the chance she’d be shuttled into a car right back to her ‘home’, just her and Fuyumi at the mercy of that man’s rage.

Kayama-sensei’s hand squeezed more firmly, grounded him. “Nezu-san…Is there any way Natsuo-san could expedite things, as adult family?”

“Mm,” Nezu-sensei murmured. “Possible, yes…Quietly, no. We’ve been playing this as a defensive game…Natsuo-san could pull her out himself, place her into his care. But it would be a shot across the bow, as it were.”

He turned his attention back to Shoto. “I know this is quite a bit, but would you be alright with us calling your brother in to have this discussion?” he asked.

And he meant it. Somewhere in there, Shoto realized if he shook his head right there, the both of them would drop it immediately.

He had no idea what to do with that kind of power.

And more than anything…He wanted his brother here. He wanted some sign of the new stability, some sense that things would be okay. He just gave a nod, not daring to try and use his voice.

Shutter

Katsuki could have hopped on the same old train back towards home, like he always did. Raced right back there, to get started on homework and a good night’s sleep to be ready for tomorrow. With only a couple days until their Rescue Heroics exercise, he needed to be on top of things.

But that would be putting off the more immediate task, of finding something to do that wasn’t just Hero related (or hurting others, apparently). And if there was one thing Katsuki hated more than delaying his own destiny, it was running from a challenge.

So, when he had enough distance from the UA campus that he stopped recognizing people, he finally took a moment to stop and breathe. He opened up his bookbag, shoving his uniform’s jacket and tie into the depths. Without them, he looked like any other extra (language, Hound Dog kept reminding him about the importance of language) … some punk kid trying to skirt some random high school’s uniform regulations to go fuck around.

Except, of course, he wasn’t fucking around. Katsuki dug deeper into his bag, pulling the one book out that wasn’t school related.

Now, Katsuki didn’t own an actual camera. They were expensive distractions for people who co…people who didn’t have their eyes set on becoming heroes. And all his life, his parents had found their smartphones good enough for getting pictures of him, so there wasn’t even something buried in a closet he could dig out.

But amongst all those books on expensive hobbies, full of equipment he had no hope of hiding if he actually bought any of it…There’d been a little book nestled in with the other photo stuff.

Phone-ography! Your Manga Guide To Better Photos With Just Your Phone, the cover bright and colorful. A classic shonen protagonist, spiky hair and all, stood there with phone in hand, his broad grin printed in the finest detail and color that 1000 yen could buy.

It was dumb. Half instruction, half threadbare story about this kid learning to take better pictures to get the attention of some Quickstagram-loving girl at his school, and with more than a few panels that made Katsuki frustrated and embarrassed in equal parts.

It also showed a path to trying this out that could be denied if it didn’t work. All he had to do was return the book for his money back, delete whatever crap pictures he ended up with, and it would be like it had never happened.

And it promised that he could do this with the slab of glass in his pocket.

So Katsuki flipped to one of the sticky notes marking a relevant page, and looked over the information once again.

Chapter 01: Composition! Nothing matters as much as composition. You can change light, and other cameras can let you change settings for effects, but everything has to be composed!

He flicked through it at speed, revisiting the horndog protagonist’s education on the basic rules of composition. Because there were rules, ways to make art look good, that had reasons behind them.

All of which had been news to Katsuki. He stopped at each explanation panel, ignoring the threadbare manga story as he just tried to wrap himself around the information.

Rule of thirds . . . Leading lines . . . Check the background . . . Coming and going . . .

He wasn’t going to get them any deeper in his head without just…fuckin’ trying it. He shoved the book back into the bottom of his bag, swung the strap around his body, and got moving. The sooner he found something interesting, the better…

…Except, that wasn’t quite the case, now was it? Katsuki kept walking, instead of his usual intense pace that fell into runs and sprints. He stopped here and there, his eyes scanning around for things lining up in interesting ways. For something that stood out.

Occasionally, he pulled out his phone, actually opening up the camera app to try and find something. He held it out, landscape and portrait, up and down, trying. And now and again, he even tapped the button and took a picture.

Most of them were crap, of course.

But he kept one or two.

Through the whole thing, the young man didn’t even notice how quiet his thoughts had gotten. How much looking for something to actually photograph had distracted him, gotten him out of the loops of thought that heroic ambition seemed to drag him back towards.

It was when he ended up in a shopping center square, not too far from the train station, that he spotted something that really caught his eye.

One of those All Might statues was up on a pedestal in the center of the square, those ones the Commission loved to put up to remind people how safe they were. The whole thing seemed kinda fuckin’ stupid…But right now, with the sun getting low in the sky, it had started doing that thing where it turned all orange-y.

And this statue happened to be facing North, kind of Northwest.

So that low, Westward-setting sun, splashed golden orange light over the brushed-metal statue, turning that silver sheen almost bronze.

It looked like a movie poster. All Might: Our Hero, or something.

Katsuki paused, standing there, and pulled out his phone, lining up the shot.

Stepped a little to the right, so an umbrella over a table was hidden behind All Might’s back. Squatted, so the statue was a little taller in the frame.

And…Click.

He stood back up, daring to look at the shot. It wasn’t gonna look good, just, whatever, he’d proven he could go and…

…okay.

Okay, maybe he was wrong.

This did look good.

Katsuki found himself smiling at the image displayed on his screen. It was kind of a whole cliche, he’d seen thousands of shots of the commemorative hero statues like this, hundreds of just the All Might ones alone. Shit, the calendar hanging in his family’s kitchen was of statue shots like this.

But…None of those were his.

This was.

He’d…made it.

When was the last time he had made something, instead of breaking it down?

His breath hitched, for just a moment. But, no, he couldn’t, he wasn’t gonna lose control here in the middle of the goddamned street in front of every…why was the ground blue?

Katsuki looked up.

…Oh.

Oh, the sun had set behind that building.

Oh, it was…

HOW THE FUCK WAS IT ALREADY PAST SIX PM?

Katsuki bit back an array of curses, and oh, he knew plenty. English ones, too. He shoved his phone in his pocket, turned on his heel, and ran for the train station. If he was lucky, he’d make it home right before dinner, and the old hag would only chew him out a little.

But even as that frustration mounted, even as the Katsuki everybody knew reasserted himself with a strong front…There was a little something that had woken up. Katsuki didn’t know he’d caught the creative bug, not yet at any rate. Didn’t realize how soon it would be that he’d be out doing this again. Yet there was a part of him that craved this. That needed the escape, the peace and tranquility away from countless battlefields. And now that it had a taste, it would not be denied for long.

Bakugou Katsuki would never be the same.

And maybe that was a good thing.

Chapter Text

Rescue

Shoto could hardly keep his thoughts straight.

In his defense, there were several matters competing strongly for his attention.

The first, and simplest, was that it was Friday morning. He had a practical lesson coming this afternoon, on Rescue Heroics. A field that he knew absolutely nothing about, as that man had considered it beneath his interest. So for one of the very first times in his life, Shoto knew he was going into something blind.

But speaking of that man, there was also…Well. The other day had seen him call the school. There had been discussions, plans made. Even now, he walked a bit closer to his brother, his eyes a bit more open and ready, as if he had to worry about being snatched up like a child.

They had plans, contingencies, to keep his mother safe. A mother he hadn’t even seen in years, and yet she sat in his mind as a symbol, a crystal jewel to protect from that man’s flames. And of course, he knew of the all-hands-on-deck response if someone were to show up on campus.

But all of that left one gaping question, that nobody had apparently even thought to ask.

Shoto bit his lip, looking up. The train station was in sight. Soon, he and his brother would be separated by another school day. If he was going to ask this, he needed to ask it soon.

He needed to ask it now. “…Natsuo,” he managed to make himself say, cutting over the idle sound of the morning crowds.

“Yeah?” Natsuo asked, glancing back at him. He saw the way the older boy looked past him for a moment, scanning the crowd, before settling back onto him; their worries weren’t so different, even if Natsuo hid it better.

He forced himself to take a breath, to settle his nerves, to just ask the question. “What…What’s going to happen to Fuyumi?”

Natsuo stopped, right in the middle of the walkway, like a machine whose plug had been ripped out. Had Shoto not been watching it happen, he would have run right into his brother.

And Natsuo processed that question for several long, slow seconds. “I…I don’t know,” he admitted. His fists clenched, a twisting turmoil of conflicting emotions. God, he did not want to be having this conversation here and now. But he couldn’t brush his little brother off. He wouldn’t. “She’s still…invested. In the whole family.”

“We’re not just…abandoning her. Are we?” Shoto asked. Sounding so uncertain, a way that Natsuo wasn’t used to hearing.

He’d just have to answer it directly. “It’s not abandonment. She has our numbers.” He let out a breath, watched it come out frosty despite springtime warming up fast. “I just…Shoto. You know she’s important to me, right? She’s our sister.”

Natsuo looked up to the sky, not waiting for a response. “But if she found out where we’re staying…I don’t know if she’d keep that a secret. I don’t know if she could. Or if she’d want to bundle up that bastard in his nicest suit and bring him by for family dinner.”

He dropped a snowball that had formed in his hand, his palms sweaty and his Quirk itching under his skin. One shoe kicked it before anyone really noticed, letting the bits of frost melt on the concrete. “She’s got her own job, man. Teachers don’t make enough money, sure, but I know she could afford to move out, if she was ready to give up on him. She wants out, she can get out. And…As soon as she does, we can go over there with Mom and have that dinner, just the four of us. We don’t need him to be a family.”

“…Okay.” It was the only word Shoto said, in response to all of that.

Any more conversation they had, until their two trains sent them in opposite directions, was…stilted, brief.

And it would make that afternoon the longest hour of Natsuo’s entire fucking life.

School

Denki stared at the sheet of paper, as if that would make the words in front of him make sense. And, to his credit, it sometimes had, before. Back when he’d thought everyone had to deal with kanji dancing across the page, and they were just better at it.

But no, this history reading in front of him had been printed off custom, with special fonts and colors so his eyes made sense of it better. All the words were looking right, and they were all staying firmly in place. Which meant he just didn’t get it.

He hadn’t gotten it in class, and now he was spending his lunch trying to get it in time to do homework tonight.

And getting nowhere fast.

He groaned, head nearly dropping down into his spicy curry. “This sucks. Why did people in the past have to do things?” he asked the world, feeling utterly drained. This was very different from his usual comfortable belief in his own stupidity, and oh, it was so much harder now that he was actually trying.

“Mm, it’s not so bad if you focus on the bigger picture,” Midoriya-san said, not even looking up from his own food. At least, not until a moment later, when he realized what he’d said. “Er, I mean, that’s not, I just…”

But Denki looked up, catching the green-haired boy’s gaze. “You actually get this stuff, Midoriya-san?”

“Um…Yes?” came the other boy’s response.

Okay! No time for pride. “Can you show me?” Denki asked, pushing the question out before he could second-guess himself.

Midoriya-san bit his lip, looking downright…nervous? “I mean, I don’t know how much help I could be, but, I’ll try?” he said-asked, already sliding his food over to Denki’s side of the large table.

And try, Izuku did. Once he was seated next to Kaminari-san, he did his best to talk through his own understanding of the material. To put into words how he naturally built up the network of connections in his mind; how what mattered wasn’t that Kento Hikki was active in the year 25XY; What mattered was that he was one of the first registered Japanese Pro Heroes, and how one of his repeat foes actually managed to briefly be elected as Prime Minister in the legal and cultural turmoil of how to classify Villains.

How that branched off to the history of Heroism and politics, something their material only covered briefly, but the skeleton was important. It was all relations, connections, the way the different pieces affected eachother. For Izuku, all of this was easy. It was just how his brain worked, making these links and putting together the mental map. But in explaining it out, literally drawing out the map in front of Denki, it slowly became obvious just how much his classmates didn’t just do this stuff already.

Classmates, plural, because several of the other members of 1-A had started gathering. Ones that, Izuku would never admit it out loud, but he had seen them visibly struggling with the history material.

Ashido-san just stared at him, at the mind-map he’d written out in one of his many notebooks. “How did you do that, Mido-kun?” she asked, with the same tone you’d use from seeing a magic trick. Also, with a nickname! That was. Okay. Huh.

But his map wasn’t that impressive, was it? “It’s just…I mean, it’s not that different from tracking Hero fights today, you know…? Since Heroes usually work in a single area, and any repeat Villains do too, you see a lot of repeat fights when you go…chasing…them…” Izuku trailed off, as he took in the widening eyes of the classmates around him.

And that was the day that Midoriya Izuku learned something important.

Not only did most people not naturally build connection maps and elaborate notes on their favorite Hero fights…

Most people, even most Heroes in training at one of the top schools in the world, did not regularly go around trying to find Hero fights to watch at all.

Huh.

Who knew!

He was just going to quietly run through his anxiety-attack strategies in his head until he calmed down a bit, thank you. After all, they were learning Rescue Heroics today. Exciting! No time for freaking out now! Nope. Reschedule freakout time for later, please.

Bus

Two moods held prominence, at the end of the day.

Much of Class 1-A was excited, very excited. It wasn’t just that they had another practical Heroics class, a chance to do better than the last time and fix their mistakes…And for most of them, it wasn’t even that it was Rescue Heroics, a rarely discussed yet fundamental skill set.

No, much of the excitement was over the simple fact that today’s class required a bus ride, to the mysterious yet fascinating rescue facility on the edge of their massive campus.

But there were a handful, whose struggles held far more sway on their mind.

Shoto sat as far in the back as he possibly could, trying to keep his thoughts to himself. He could feel it. He could feel it. A special kind of dread, pooling in the bottom of his gut. A survival instinct, maybe, or a change in the air, or some bizarre tertiary trait of his Quirk; the boy had never quantified it enough to ask, and had no one who would give him the answer.

But he knew that man was coming.

He would feel it minutes before the live news would report a new beat down, starring the number 2 hero. Right before that house would get several degrees warmer. A raw, palpable sensation that his domain was about to be breached.

Shoto tried to tell himself it was nothing. It was, as their home room teacher so often put it, illogical.

But it had never been wrong before.

“Is everything alright, kero?” came a voice, knocking him out of his thoughts entirely. Who had—?

He looked up, and found himself looking straight into the largest eyes he had ever seen. Because his frog-powered classmate was not so much ‘leaning across the aisle’, as she was crouching in the middle of it, barely half a meter away from him. “I, it isn’t your concern, Asui-san,” he said, holding his more ragged emotions back.

“Call me Tsuyu,” she said. And then there was a little half-step forward, up against his space. “I don’t mean to pry, but, kero, your hands are…”

Shoto looked down.

Oh. Oh. There was just…A whole puddle at his feet, as frost gathered up one arm, and the other grew tense and hot. And with his hands clenched tight against eachother, they were positively dripping. “…Apologies,” he said, trying to force it down as numbly as he could. Just push it down. Get it under control. Get it under control.

“Don’t be,” she almost whispered, her voice taking on a softer tone. Gentler, the way one would talk to a child afraid of punishment. He saw her move a large hand just a bit, before thinking differently. Instead, a wide, open smile spread across that round face, as warm and friendly as she could possibly be. “We’re all in this together, kero. I just wanted to see if I could help.”

Shoto let out a single breath, with just a bit of shudder he couldn’t suppress. The air swirled out messily, half misty frost and half waves of heat, turning into a swampy mess past his lips.

But his Quirk settled down. His arms calmed, the last frost melting off one and the excess warmth bleeding off the other. His hands quickly dried, a few shaken-off ice crystals the only sign left on his body…And with everyone else chattering away or eyeing the facility ahead, the puddle by his feet sat unnoticed by the others.

“…Thank you,” he said. “Tsuyu.”

She gave him another of those so-big smiles, and a quick nod. “Any time, kero.”

…The idea in his head sounded absurd.

He bit his lip.

But his brother had done it already, so why couldn’t he?

“One more thing.”

“Yes?” she asked, attention back on him.

“Call me Shoto,” he said, forcing the words out calm and controlled. There was no point to being nervous. It wasn’t anything special. Just a name. A name that man hadn’t chosen, didn’t own.

And if those smiles had been big and friendly before, then Asu—Tsuyu, was positively beaming this time. “Of course, Shoto-kun.”

The silence of the last few minutes of the ride felt more… comfortable, for Shoto, after that.

Arrival

When Nezu caught the flare of light across one of his many security camera feeds, it drew his eye. For just a moment, he watched, just to confirm what he was seeing. That it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him, building impossibly complex patterns out of random chaos until he saw what he wanted.

It was not.

With careful, clean precision, he typed.

First, a message went out over the school’s internal comms system. A simple one, requesting that all staff ensure their students remain seated as a professional Hero had come to the campus on business. This message was perfectly ordinary; Nezu sometimes sent it multiple times a week, for perfectly legitimate reasons.

Better to not worry those who weren’t fully looped into the situation.

Second, a message went into the Hero Network, sent with one of his more effectively sheltered ID codes. A small handful of professional Heroes would have their comm pieces chime any second now, and one of the many dispatchers would read the latest of countless keyphrases sent to Heroes in the field.

And lastly, Nezu pulled out his personal cellphone, tiny fingers tacking away at the virtual keys with the utmost dexterity. One person needed to know, who wasn’t in any of the other systems.

Then, and only then, could he allow himself to face this challenge.

Natsuo heard the buzzing more than he felt it, his phone clattering away against the hollow table. His study-mates all gave a groan and a laugh at their latest interruption; “You know the rules, you’re buying the next round of coffee,” one girl said.

The chuckles stopped when Natsuo saw his screen. The air around him dropped degree after degree, his hitched breath fogging the glass.

A text message shined through, with one word: Now.

One of his friends put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Himura-kun, everything okay?”

“I…I have to go,” Natsuo said, hearing his own words more than he felt them. He barely managed to grab his bag as he turned, racing out of the cheap coffee shop. His open textbooks and writing instruments sat abandoned behind him.

He’d buy new ones if he had to. All that mattered was getting to the clinic.

All-Might tensed, mid-wave to the crowd, as soon as he felt the buzz in his ear. The ping of the speaker sounded a moment later, a woman’s voice coming through clipped and professional. “This is a message for ID code 19380418. As follows: Red Impact.”

The line went dead, as it always did.

This time, All-Might had no room to wait around. He’d just stopped an armed robbery with little more than his presence; even the man who he’d caught, looked more awed than infuriated at his capture. “I’m terribly sorry, everyone, but justice cannot wait!” he said, his voice booming across the street. With one hand, he slapped a simple quirk-suppressant cuff on the man, already patted down for more knives, and with the other he affixed the cuff to a lamp post.

But he couldn’t just…He couldn’t just leave a human being like this. It wasn’t right.

He crouched down, ready to jump…And met eye to eye with the would-be criminal, for just a moment, as the crowd stepped back. “Request Detective Tsukauchi,” he whispered

The man’s eyes widened, confused and startled to hear the All-Might speaking to him. “Wh—“

“Detective Tsukauchi. If you have mitigating circumstances, he will help your case be seen fairly. Now I must go!” All-Might hissed out, his twin guilts eating at him. He wanted to see this out. He’d never met a liquor-store robber who ended up there by choice.

But the other matter at hand was simply more pressing.

Without even waiting for a response, he leapt.

He had to make it in time.

He had to.

Shouta heard the message in one ear, just as Thirteen was finishing up their speech.

“. . .ow you will all learn to best use your Quirks to save people, here in my custom-built training facility: The Unforeseen Simulation Joint, or USJ!” they said, thickly-gloved hands waving in the air to try to generate excitement.

Shouta gave a single tap on their shoulder, looking to his class. “Your assignments today will be a guided tour of the facility, with some simple practical lessons. Real rescue work is high-stakes, and we don’t start the heavy training until your second semester at the earliest. Consider today a taste to see if rescue work is the field for you. …Now talk amongst yourselves while I deal with logistics.”

Thirteen followed when he stepped away. He had to take them fully around the other side of the large and burbling fountain, hopefully enough to block inadvertent eavesdropping from his more sensitive students. “What’s wrong, Aizawa-san?” they asked, straight to the point.

“Under no circumstances is Todoroki Enji allowed to take his son off campus,” Shouta whispered, right into the input mic on Thirteen’s helmet.

They didn’t know everything that had happened…But they knew enough to put dots together. “You…don’t think he’ll just barge in here, do you? What are we supposed to do, he’s—“

“No. Circumstances,” Shouta said. He flared his quirk for just a moment, let his eyes burn red in Thirteen’s gaze, to make the point.

He swore he heard them gulp behind that opaque glass. But more importantly, he saw them nod. “Right.”

They were not the first line of defense. But they would be the last, if it came to it.

Something, was…Off. Izuku couldn’t put it into words, the instincts engrained too young and too deep for him to entirely notice he was doing it. But he spotted the slight tension in their teachers. The way Aizawa-sensei kept glancing towards the front gates…And Thirteen-sensei no doubt was too, hidden only by their helmet.

He saw the way Todoroki-san had tense. The way Asui-sa—Tsuyu, she kept insisting, and he’d get it right eventually—had to keep pulling the other boy out of his own thoughts. And unlike their teachers, Todoroki-san wasn’t a trained professional used to keeping his reactions in check. To Izuku, it was obvious something was up. Something that Todoroki-san knew about.

That didn’t leave a lot of options, and even fewer good ones. But unfortunately, he had no capacity to ask, or even watch for any new data, now that the class was split down the middle. One group with Aizawa-sensei, the rest with Thirteen-sensei. …Had that been the plan? It hadn’t sounded like the plan. They were trying to rush, but why?

He frowned to himself, warm water dripping off of him in the Downpour Zone. His gauntlets, stark red against the simple green of his suit (so close to the shade of his shoes, why had they happened to pick that color?) seemed fine. No errors, no signs of water getting in…He could feel the little gyroscopes whirring, ready to handle the power he had been given.

Too much on his mind. He needed a distraction. And besides that, he needed to step up and try to…learn something, prove himself, whatever. Izuku forced down his fear, gripped onto that focus, and looked at the simple strength test in front of them. “Thirteen-sensei! Can I give it a try?”

“Of course, Midoriya-kun!” they said. “Step right up and try The Auto Flood!”

The Auto Flood, as it was so called, was a simple thing. A small basin about the size of a large bathhouse tub, with half of a car mounted to its side wall. Funneling lines caught tons of the water raining down on them, focusing it until it was rushing past the half-car’s doors at whitewater speeds.

He’d watched some of the class’s strongest members struggle to even make it budge. The lesson was clear, a stark view of just how difficult a simple rescue could be in inclement weather. Izuku took a breath, stepped into the pool—

It damn near swept him away then and there. He had to grab the car door just to stay upright, his body clamping down instead of letting One For All flow outwards.

“You okay, Mido???” Kaminari-kun called, over the sound of rushing water. He could see Thirteen-sensei with a remote by them all, ready to open the grates and drain the pool so Izuku could stand. He’d seen it happen, watched the water level drop to zero in the blink of an eye when Uraraka-san tried to anti-gravity her way around the problem.

But Izuku grit his teeth, pushed his leg down to the floor of the pool. He could feel the strength in him, the inherited power. If he could just…If he could just handle it all, he could…

It wouldn’t be that easy. He didn’t have the control, not yet, to flow it out into his whole body. But he had enough bodily control to grab onto the car’s frame with his free hand, the other wrapped around the door handle. “I’m okay!” he called back, gripping as tight as he could with his normal strength. “Just, gotta get steady…”

He reached down into the vast depths that were One For All, and he pulled.

His body wanted to jerk suddenly with the force, to wrench his arm back so hard it would pop it out of socket…Or just explode, shattering bones into dust and meat into jelly.

The gyroscopes in the gauntlets refused.

They spun steadily, growing faster with each passing instant, and resisted the sudden force. Izuku could feel the strength staying in him, the overwhelming force backing up like too much water at the end of a funnel, spilling out into his form…

As his arm smoothly, steadily, pulled back. And forced the door open, until he had it out wide. It moved in a perfectly flowing arc, speeding up into the middle of the movement and slowing down out of it, like the auto-doors in a car commercial.

And then he felt it rumble under his grip, the door groaning as water hit it at speed.

BEEP! The water drained out under him, more to protect the pseudo car than himself. “Very good, Midoriya-kun! As you can see, even with extreme physical strength enough to overcome the water, there are dangers. Had I not drained the water out, the door could easily have come off its hinges—-becoming a new danger in the zone!” Thirteen-sensei said.

But Izuku only kind of half-heard it.

Because he was focused more on two, simple, things. And one more complicated.

One? He had his arm still. They’d tested the gauntlets, sure. He’d done punches and grapples and learned how they worked, in theory. But those were all supervised, with a quirk suppressing cuff to limit how much power he could put out. This…This was the real deal. It had worked. He’d moved that door like the water hadn’t even been there.

And two? What was that feeling? That, that backfilling, when the strength of One For All had tried to flow out from just the point of focus…He needed to ask All-Might. Or hell, anyone with an all-body emitter quirk! This presented so many questions, so many possibilities, this called for training and…

Oh. Right. The more complicated thing.

Kacchan was staring at him, at this first real display of what his power could do.

He saw…He saw a lot of emotions flash across his friend-bully-companion-classmate’s face. Shock. Anger. Betrayal. The briefest hint of fear. Disgust? But finally, Kacchan’s face settled behind the mask. And as Izuku walked back into the group, as everyone cheered for this sudden reveal of just what the small green boy could do…

Kacchan asked him a simple, yet oh so complicated question. “Since when the hell could you do that, Mid—“

The sentence never finished. Cut off by a thunderclap that echoed through the facility. They saw the rain machines overhead shake, the distant Zones rumbling as it went through the entire building. Everyone stopped, frozen in place by this new unknown. Thirteen-sensei’s hand went straight to their helmet, keying their comms.

…What had just happened?