Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The war is far from over.

He recognizes the quiet nights as the calm before the storm. In between the moments of peace and healing after the Kamino Incident, there lies the heaviness of the atmosphere.

It’s in the way nightmares taint their dreams. Observed when the lights are flickered open at two in the morning. And like any other nights, Izuku can currently see hints of Class 1-A’s discomfort.

The moon and stars have long taken over the sky—it’s quarter past midnight, and their curfew has started. Despite that, the entire class remains on the dorm's ground floor.

None of them found the idea of being stuck in their rooms alone appealing today. As such, they’ve flooded their group chat with random messages. It all spiralled to Yaoyorozu asking if anyone wanted tea, and soon they all went down to the ground floor.

As of the moment, some are in the kitchen. He can hear Kacchan and his friends arguing all the way from there, probably about the recipe again. Meanwhile, the rest of the class are scattered across the common room – even Iida, who's usually against the meetings held past curfew hours.

It’s clear that the incidents they've gone through have really shaken them. They’ve come so close to dying and losing their close friends, and—it’s hard, thinking about it.

But they’re still here, and that’s what matters. They’re around him, alive, talking about school and their requirements.

They’re okay.

“I still haven’t done my essay,” He hears Hagakure tell Jirou as he shifts a little on his seat. “I just can’t seem to find the right words, y’know?”

Jirou agrees, albeit distractedly. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t think I can do it now either.”

“How about you, Deku?” Uraraka questions. Izuku blinks, taking a moment to realize that she’s talking to him, and nods. “Oh wow, wish that were me.”

“Do you need help?” Izuku offers, as he always does. He usually finishes most of his tasks on the same day it’s been assigned, not really having anything to do besides his hero analysis and the like. So, his daily schedule isn’t really as hectic.

Uraraka ponders over this for a while, sipping her strawberry milk. She looks like she’s going to take up on his offer, but then decides against it.

“Nope,” she replies, grinning. “I got it!”

Izuku reciprocates her smile. Uraraka really is an admirable friend; her determination is such an inspiration.

"Alright, time to eat!" Kirishima calls, peeking from the dining room. In an instant, everyone is on their feet and going to their respective seats.

It's moments like this when Izuku learns to appreciate nights more, despite the nightmares it brings with it. Spending time with his friends fills the cracks between Izuku's trail of thoughts, leaving little room for worry.

The area is filled with noise. It's a mix of laughter and chatter, and it isn't quiet. Far from it, really. Yet it's so oddly... peaceful, in a way.

It feels like—home.

He takes in the view, the smiles etched on everyone's faces making his heart warm. His own grin disappears, however, as his gaze lands on Jirou.

She's poking her food with an uninterested look, shaking her head slightly and letting out a sigh. Her eyes then meet his when she suddenly whips her head in his direction, and he almost chokes on his food.

He flails a little, embarrassed that he's been caught. But his worry overtakes it, so he tries to immediately regain his composure.

"Are you okay?" She blinks a few times, as if not expecting that he'd notice. She glances at Yaoyorozu, before discreetly pointing at the entrance of the dorm and mouthing the word, "later".

He simply nods as a response, confused and concerned.

Once he's finished eating and washing his dishes, he quietly separates from his group and goes out of the dorm. He briefly sees Jirou walking away from her friends, and she exits the building as well.

"Hey," she awkwardly greets, rubbing the back of her neck. She tries to force a smile, but drops it when the attempt fails. "I—sorry, this is really... it's so sudden, but I think…"

"It's okay!" He quickly replies, beaming at her. She exhales, staring at the cemented ground, before decidedly settling on the stairs. Izuku follows, sitting beside her.

Silence envelopes them for a while. Jirou seems to be contemplating something, and he really doesn't want to get in the way of it. So, he sits quietly, staring up at the night sky.

"I don't," Jirou clears her throat, not looking at him. "Sorry. I called you here but—I don't know how to tell you this."

"Take your time, I can wait."

She holds onto the hem of her sweater's sleeves, though Izuku can tell that her focus really isn't on it. She's staring blankly, probably lost in thoughts.

Izuku wonders what's going through her mind. Is there any way to help her? Can he, at least, take away some of the burden from her shoulders, instead?

He really hopes so. Frowns don't quite suit his friends' faces.

"I wasn't supposed to overhear," she finally admits, resting her face against her palms. "They were—I was... I woke up and felt anxious so—I thought that practicing my quirk would be okay."

She glances at him, unsure, and he nods reassuringly.

Jirou continues, "It was in the middle of the night. I went to the gym. I think—I was there for five minutes. Maybe fifteen. I had my headphone jacks plugged in the ground, and it was fine then."

She rests her face against her palms, and Izuku hesitantly places a hand on her shoulder. He receives a grateful look.

"I'm okay," she shakily says. "Anyway, where was I – right, my quirk. I was testing its range, and it so happened that—"

She freezes, fixing her gaze on the teachers' dorm. She squints, before instinctively ducking. "Shit, sensei's coming—it's past curfew."

Izuku immediately hides from plain sight, and he peeks. And there he is—Aizawa is walking towards them, but he doesn't think they've been spotted yet.

"We have to go,"

Agreeing to that, they sneak back inside the dorm. They're met with their unknowing classmates, still in the common room.

"Sensei's here!" Jirou announces, more of a whisper than a yell. "Back to your rooms!"

And with practiced ease, their class picks up their own things. They all rush to the elevator and stairs, but Izuku hesitates.

"Jirou!" He calls, and she falters. She turns to him, and then at the clock.

"Dude, come on!" He hears Kaminari from behind him, but he waits for Jirou's response.

She looks at him.

"Tomorrow," she takes a step back, then another. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

With one last nod he heads for the stairs, thanks Kaminari for waiting, and then they're back in their rooms.

"I know some of you were up past your curfew, yesterday night. Or earlier, to be specific."

The entire class goes silent at that statement, and Izuku grins sheepishly. Jirou and him leaving the building must have alerted their teacher—not like they knew of that feature, with the dorms being new and all.

Aizawa sighs. "I'm not going to punish them for now. I only ask that next time, do ask for permission. The rules are there for a reason—specifically, for your safety."

Suddenly, under Aizawa's scrutinizing gaze, he finds his pen intriguing. What an incredibly unique item. So unlike any other pens he's ever seen.

He deflates in relief the moment Aizawa finally moves forward with their lecture.

Not that he's paying attention, actually. He is writing down notes, but it's more of him scribbling than anything. His thoughts linger on the happenings from earlier, unable to get it out of his head.

He still can't think of a topic that'd leave Jirou so shaken—what could she have overheard that'd cause such a reaction?

Maybe about villains. Threats against UA? That's possible, but with All for One gone, the League are still gathering their resources and are in hiding. Personal? But then he doesn't think she'd tell him—he doesn't really see himself as someone who can be trusted with that kind of information.

"Midoriya," he jumps in his seat, eyes wide as he diverts his attention to Aizawa. "Pay attention."

"Yes, sensei!" He bows his head in shame. He'll think of it later—right now, he has to study.

He and his classmates are slowly filtering out of their room, now that break has arrived. He's still a little lost in thoughts, but he managed to pull himself together enough to at least take down coherent notes.

Of course, that's not his only worry. He should have known that his behavior in class earlier would gain his friends' attention.

As if on cue, Uraraka nudges his side.

"What was that earlier?"

"Oh," he lets out a light chuckle. "That was nothing! Don't worry."

"Are you sure?" Uraraka presses. "We're your friends, you know you can depend on us, right?"

"Y-yeah—"

"If you have any concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out!" Iida tells him. "We're always here to listen, whether it's a rant about school or anything."

Todoroki nods, "Especially if it's a rant about the number one hero—wait, are you crying?"

Izuku is totally not crying, he doesn't know what Todoroki means by that.

He wipes his tears away.

"I'm just really thankful and glad?" He sniffles. "I don't know. I'm very happy to be friends with you all."

As expected, it's Uraraka who responds first.

"Deku!" She hugs him, stopping him in his tracks. "You precious, adorable, cinnamon roll. I'm going to cry—"

"But my cold soba—?"

"—just to spite Todoroki, who can't even give us a moment here." Uraraka jokingly glares at Todoroki, who only smiles softly at them. "But, yeah! We really appreciate you Deku, and I'm so glad to be friends with you too!"

"I can confirm," Iida says quietly, the corner of his lips tugged upwards. Todoroki nods in agreement.

And, not really surprising, it takes him a few minutes to calm down after that.

Following their lunch, the rest of their classes pass in a blur. He doesn't even realize that it's dismissal time until he sees his classmates already preparing to leave.

He purposefully lags behind the class, and so do Jirou and Yaoyorozu. They then wordlessly walk out of the building together, with Izuku debating with himself whether to speak or not throughout the entire journey, and head straight for Yaoyorozu's room.

"Over here," Yaoyorozu gestures at the table that wasn't previously there. "I've switched out my previous bed into… a more suitable one, considering the room's size."

Izuku distantly remembers the bed that occupied half of her room and—yeah, Izuku thinks. That's understandable.

They sit awkwardly, not knowing how to start the conversation. Is he supposed to bring up the topic? Is that too rushed? Should he talk about another topic first? He doesn't really know.

"So, I asked for backup," Jirou says after a while. "I've been doubting my thoughts and—well, Yaomomo told me it's a valid concern but, I don't know."

Yaoyorozu smiles sadly, "It is something to take note of."

"Uh," Izuku furrows his brows in confusion. "Yeah—about that,"

"Oh, did you want me to...?" she trails off.
When Jirou agrees, Izuku sees a flash of uncertainty in Yaoyorozu's expression, but it instantly shifts into a determined one.

She presses her lips together and says, "Jirou overheard Aizawa-sensei and Mic-sensei talking a few nights ago about the possibility of a traitor here in UA."

Dread gnaws at his insides, and his throat tightens. His blood isn't ice, but the coldness that's rushing through his veins is similar to it.

He inhales. Exhales. Keeps his breathing steady.

He's not quite sure as to what he feels. It might be a mix of fear and anxiety. Maybe even of disbelief and confusion. Perhaps all those, and more.

"You don't—" his voice is disobeying him, but he forces it out. "You don't think they're in Class 1-A, do you?"

He doesn't want to think about it.

"We don't know," Yaoyorozu seems just as terrified of the idea as he is. "It's a possibility, yes, but it's hard to say. Class 1-A has been at the center of the battles—it could be because the traitor is in our midst, but may also be due to another reason."

He shuts his eyes close for a moment. "What do you suggest we do?"

Yaoyorozu clasps her hands together, shaking her head. "I'm not sure, but the best course of action would probably be to just keep an eye out. The teachers are handling this case, anyway."

How would they even go about finding the traitor? UA is such a huge school—they could be anywhere. Or even nowhere.

"Yeah," he scrunches his nose up, not liking how monotonous his voice sounds. "I'm—thank you for telling me. I don't—the thought of Class 1-A…"

Unable to continue, he simply runs his fingers through his hair as a distraction.

"Sorry," Jirou mutters. Izuku tilts his head, not knowing why she's apologizing. "For bringing you into this. It's not even confirmed and—I just. I don't want it to be one of us."

His eyes water at that, but he can't break. Not in front of them. And so, despite the realization that's sitting heavily on his shoulders, Izuku grins.

"We're a family," he reassures them. And maybe he's saying it for his own self too. "There may be a possibility, seeing how we're targets, but let's trust in each other."

He knows that it isn't enough to convince them, so he continues. "We've been through a lot. Our bond is strong. Plus, there's a higher chance that the traitor isn't in 1-A, if there is one."

"It's a 1 out of 33 chance for us, and that's not even including the teachers." Yaoyorozu adds.

Jirou slightly smiles at that.

"You're right," she looks less worried now, thankfully. "It won't do any good to doubt one another anyway—so, yeah. Trust."

He notices the way Yaoyorozu's expression brightens. She must have been really bothered by the idea, too, and has just been keeping it to herself to not contribute to Jirou's worry.

And he thinks of this, even as he's sitting against his door and hugging his knees close. He's similar to Yaoyorozu in that aspect; he may have reassured them, but the thought echoes in his head repeatedly.

There's a traitor, somewhere in UA.

He remembers his friends, their closeness, and their smiles. Recalls the warmth in his chest as they laughed together. He looks back on all their interactions, and all the memories they've collected as a family.

Izuku lets his tears fall.

The war isn’t over.

He’s known this before All Might dealt the final blow against the scourge of Kamino, and believed in it even after his mentor raised his hand in victory. It’s a lingering thought at the back of his mind, a whisper that never really goes away.

Still, he didn’t expect that it’d become worse.

Chapter Text

Nothing has changed, and yet the world isn't the same in his eyes.

He still does what he used to — attends classes, laughs with his friends, and trains, but there are notable differences in his daily life.

Sometimes, he finds his eyes lingering on others, observing and questioning everything. He monitors suspicious movements, and wonders —

What, exactly, makes a traitor?

Are they talking to the League? Is a question that appears in his mind, as a stranger excuses themself from their group to answer a call. What if they're observing us? He'd ask himself, as he sees others glancing at them when they're in the cafeteria.

It's unfair to label them as such when they haven't even done anything wrong, so he shuts the idea down the moment it appears. Still, there's that nagging feeling within him that tells him to be on alert, because the enemy can strike at any moment.

He pointedly ignores that, too.

He exhales as their next class starts — hero training. He's reminded once again that he doesn't have time to be slacking off; the teachers will handle the case whether he keeps an eye out or not.

Izuku has to focus on his studies, so he can protect his friends no matter what happens in the future.

"In preparation for the Provisional Licensure Exam, which is a little over a week from now," Aizawa starts, leaning down the desk in order to level his eyes with theirs. "We'll be requiring each of you to come up with at least two ultimate moves."

Izuku smiles unsurely as Midnight, Cementoss, and Ectoplasm enters the room, wondering how he hasn't come up with one yet. He's known of the existence of ultimate moves for as long as he's been a hero fan, which is his entire life.

"Come meet us at Gym Gamma. Wear your hero costumes."

And then, they're heading outside.

He clutches onto his briefcase that's carrying their recently upgraded costumes, mind filled with possible techniques and moves he can use. Maybe he should come up with another smash, though it doesn't feel original at this point. Another air attack? But maybe he should avoid depending on his arms too much, knowing the risks of that.

His thoughts are abruptly cut off when the door to the changing room slides open before he can even hold the knob.

Izuku blinks, a little taken aback, while the other freezes. The class awkwardly stands behind him, not knowing what to say.

Taking control of the situation, he eases his lips into a smile. "Hey, Shinsou!"

Shinsou Hitoshi nods in acknowledgement, his discomfort evident in the way he acts. Izuku flits his eyes at his clothes, curious at the fact that he's wearing some sort of a mask-like device and a scarf — one that’s similar to their homeroom teacher's.

"I'm," he starts, and Izuku tilts his head a little to the side. "I'm going to go now."

"Oh," Izuku says, smiling sheepishly. He's been blocking his way this entire time, and he hasn't even noticed. "Yeah, uh —"

He takes a step to the side, letting Shinsou walk out of the room. He glances at his classmates who are mostly unbothered, and they follow him in.

Sero pats his shoulder. "Well, that was awkward."

He laughs shyly, because that seems to be a thing that always happens when it comes to him. He then glances back, curiosity causing questions to flood into his mind, before decidedly changing into his hero costume.

Hitoshi doesn't know what he's doing here.

Well, not really. He knows that he's here because Eraserhead is pushing for him to get involved in as much hero training as he possibly can, but having to be here with Class 1-A is too nerve-wracking.

Meeting around half of the class in the changing room already felt threatening for him, in a way. Part of Hitoshi still sees them as rivals of some sort, people to merely surpass.

In the field, three years from now, they'd most likely be allies. He knows that, and yet it's hard for him to look at them and be something else other than bitter. A petty side of him even wants to show off what he's learned in the past months just to spite them.

Though, if he's being honest, him training with the hero course doesn't seem real. Hitoshi knows that there's something more to it, but the answers evade him each time he reaches for it.

Why else would his mentor demand to let him do the Provisional Licensure Exam, if not for his future? There's no other reason, but something about the entire situation feels off.

Whatever. His dream is within sight now, and he sure won't dare complain about it.

There's also that issue that he managed to overhear from his mentor — a suspected traitor in UA. The staff isn't exactly being subtle about it, probably because it'll be known one way or another. And with how the way things are currently going, he bets the police will get dragged into it.

Something akin to anxiety seeps through the cracks of his uncaring mask at that thought. Maybe he's afraid of being suspected as the traitor. So what? Sue him, he's lived his life with others perceiving him as a villain, and he truly wants to believe that UA will be different.

He doesn't want to be called a villain anymore.

Hitoshi sighs in frustration, shaking his thoughts away. No point in letting it linger in his thoughts for longer; whatever happens, happens.

He pushes the door to Gym Gamma open and awkwardly enters. He then greets the teachers quietly, standing beside his mentor. He knows he's going to embarrass himself today — they have far more training than him and are well-versed in using their quirks, unlike him who wasn’t able to train it until recently.

Who'd want to willingly be brainwashed, anyway? Even Hitoshi himself would have shied away from the thought, had he not have it for a quirk.

"Developing an ultimate move is all you have to do today," Aizawa mutters, expression dull. "Don’t overthink it."

"Yeah," the agreement tastes like ashes; he’s bitter about the fact that it’s hard to come up with an ultimate move when there's only one way to put people under his control. He’ll have to come up with one revolving around his weapon and combat knowledge. "I guess."

Aizawa's gaze lingers on him for a while, and he puts up a carefully crafted blank look. He intentionally makes sure to keep his hatred hidden, through both gestures and in the way he voices his thoughts out.

In the end, no matter how much he tries to quell his fear, a part of him is still terrified of being accused as the traitor.

After all, the likes of him have the perfect villain backstory and quirk to support it.

"Good morning!"

Class 1-A starts to filter in the gym, and Hitoshi puts up an uncaring front. He meets the confused stares of a few of his future classmates — if Aizawa's promise is to be trusted — and promptly casts his gaze downwards.

"You'll be working with Shinsou Hitoshi of Class 1-C today," Aizawa briefly introduces. "He'll be taking the Provisional Licensure Exam with you."

He dips his head as his form of greeting, tugging at his capture weapon distractedly. He’s not here to make friends — he doesn’t have to act friendly or anything to that extreme.

Except life despises him, because the moment they’re told to occupy any of the spots in the gym, the golden child of UA takes that chance to skitter excitedly towards his chosen space.

“Hi, Shinsou!” he feels what little of his energy left drained away by Midoriya. “You’re going to the exam with us? That’s so cool! Will you join Class 1-A on the way, or 1-B? Anyway, if you'd like, want to join us in our area?”

Hitoshi internally groans, not having the patience to persevere through any more social interactions.

“I’m not here to talk to any of you,” he says through gritted teeth, unable to hide his irritation. “I’m here to be a hero.”

Midoriya’s smile turns bashful, "Sorry — was too excited. Um, the offer stands anytime, by the way. Anyway, Plus Ultra!"

He then walks away, heading to his group of friends. Hitoshi turns away, jealousy and anger rising in his chest. He clenches his fists determinedly. He only needs to prove himself here, to show everyone his unwavering conviction to be a hero.

Traitor rumors be damned. He has nothing to do with that, and never will.

He then moves a little further away from the class, Ectoplasm’s clone already waiting for him. He idly wonders whether his quirk will work on him, but since it’s a clone, then it should.

He’ll try it first before asking for more clones, then. Just to confirm it.

“Is this spot fine?” he asks, more for his quirk than actual curiosity.

“Yes,” he frowns slightly as he tugs on the strings in his mind, putting Ectoplasm under his control. That worked as planned, though using his quirk still feels strange. He lets go. “Do you need more clones, or will one work?”

He blinks, surprised. As expected from a pro-hero, he knows exactly what Shinsou is planning.

Shinsou parts his lips open to reply, but pauses as he feels eyes on him. A shudder ripples down his spine, and his heart thrums loudly against his ribcage. He looks around, trying to find who it is, but everyone is focused on their own businesses.

Something is wrong.

“Shinsou?” Ectoplasm calls, and he shakes his head.

“Oh, sorry. It’s nothing,” he replies, trying to shake off his thoughts. “Um, more clones — ”

The ground beneath them abruptly trembles. A scream tears through the gym, and he feels more than sees it all explode. Fire brushes against his skin, flames licking all those within reach, and it burns.

The ceiling folds in on them, trapping everyone within. A falling rubble hits his head hard, and he must’ve passed out from that because when he comes to, something wet has pooled on the ground beneath his head. Debris is also pressing down on his body, cutting through skin like butter.

He wants to scream, to cry, but shock grips onto him and he can barely even breathe. Gasping in pain, Shinsou tries to hold onto his consciousness. He still needs to check how others are, needs to see who else has gotten hurt.

All that fades in the back of his mind when he looks up and sees a blurry figure staring at him.

“Shinsou,” they call. They know him, but who are they? Their voice — he doesn’t recognise it. Voice changer? Or does he just not know them? “Shinsou, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh no, what have I done — I didn’t… this wasn’t…”

He can’t understand why they’re apologising. It’s not like they’re behind whatever this is, right? Because… because —

Suddenly, they walk closer to him. Shinsou squints, still gasping for air, unable to move to save his life.

“Who...” he rasps out, ashes on his tongue. “W-who are… you?”

The person crouches down and leans in. He feels like he knows them, can make out their clothes’ outline somewhat, but he’s too out of it. He wants to try and stay awake, to do something, but it’s all slipping past his fingers. And despite himself, his eyes shut close.

Before he completely blacks out, however, he hears their words.

“Persona — member of the Villain League.”

And then, he understands.

Izuku wakes up with a start, confusedly looking around. He finds his classmates sprawled all over the room, sleeping deeply, and the events of the past days catch up to him. With a sigh, he pulls his knees close to him for comfort.

Those conscious have all been staying in one hospital room, not wanting to stray far from one another, with the school having the entire week off to allow them to recuperate and handle important matters. They can’t return home in fear of putting their families in danger, which caused anger from his classmates’ families. His mother had been worried as well, and though she told him that she won’t pull him out, he knows that she’s been considering doing so for a while now.

But at this point, it won’t matter if he’s in UA or not. He’ll be a target wherever he goes, more so if he’s not protected by the school. Besides, he can’t ever stand being away from his classmates, knowing that anytime, they’d be in danger.

After all they’ve been through together, Izuku doesn’t think they can leave them now, of all times.

He clambers to his feet, stretching a little as the blanket drops on the floor. His neck aches a little from having slept on the chair, but he ignores it as he makes his way out of the room to check on others. They’ve been on a shift since three days ago when the incident occured, not wanting their classmates to wake up alone whenever their parents aren’t there.

“Midori!”

He turns to look and finds a few of his classmates leaving Yaoyorozu's room with her parents — Kacchan, Ojirou, Hagakure, and Todoroki.

“Good morning,” he greets, smiling politely at Yaoyorozu's parents. They nod in acknowledgement, before leaving. “Is she awake?”

Ojirou shakes his head no. “Jirou's inside. Told us she's going to tell us the moment she does.”

“You going around, visiting?” Hagakure asks before he can respond to Ojirou. “Can I join you?”

Izuku nods, not actually wanting to wander alone. “Sure! Any of you want to come, too?”

Todoroki immediately goes to his side, pocketing his hands. Kacchan scoffs, but wordlessly joins in too. Ojirou nods as well, and the five of them walk together.

“So,” Hagakure starts. “Remember anything? My memory’s still all hazy.”

“Detective Tsukauchi asked the same thing, didn’t he?” he absentmindedly asks, recalling the interrogation. “After being pushed away by Aizawa-sensei, I hit my head pretty hard. I blacked out from that.”

“I didn’t pass out, but...” Ojirou says, seemingly ashamed. “I couldn’t even...”

“That’s fine, you know? It took us by surprise,” Izuku reassures him.

Ojirou shrugs, but he doesn’t say anything else. Izuku wants to say more, but words won’t do anything here.

They fall silent as they go through rooms one by one, and freeze when they arrive at Aizawa’s room. They stand quietly in front of Aizawa’s door, all most likely thinking the same thing.

For all their teacher’s talk about being unable to save others if the hero themself is in danger of death, he sure does have fun putting his life on the line for them.

And Izuku does understand why he did it, because he would’ve done the same thing. He just hates that Aizawa keeps on saving them, over and over, without care for his own life.

Has he ever thought about what would happen, with him gone? Izuku doesn’t think he knows exactly how much he means to 1-A. Though maybe it’s on them too, for not telling him.

They finally gather the courage to open the door, and they all head inside. Midnight and Present Mic are sleeping at the couch on the corner of the room, and they pay them no attention. They all focus on their teacher, worried.

“Do you think,” Hagakure says, voice trembling, “that if we tell him that we care for him too, he’d stop pulling these self-sacrificial stunts?”

“No,” Kacchan deadpans. “Because he’s a hypocrite.”

The corners of Todoroki’s lips tug upwards. “He is.”

“Hey,” Present Mic mutters, causing them to jump in surprise. He yawns. “Stop saying facts in his room, listeners. The truth hurts, y’know?”

“Mic-sensei,” Hagakure says, “he hasn’t woken up?”

Present Mic’s expression falls, but he masks it with a smile. “He hasn’t, but Eraser’s strong. He’ll wake up soon.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku apologises, looking down. “If it weren’t for me… He would have been — he wasn’t that close to danger, but he jumped in to save me. I’m sorry, Mic-sensei.”

He can’t bring himself to look up at Present Mic. Guilt weighs down on his entire being, consuming him. He can still remember the way Aizawa distractedly pushed Izuku away when he saw the debris falling on him.

“There are two hypocrites in the room,” Ojirou says, and Izuku blinks owlishly at him. “One is unconscious, and the other has green hair.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he replies lightly, but it does lessen the tension on his shoulders. “Thank you.”

Something unreadable flashes in Ojirou’s eyes, gone as soon as it appeared. His classmate shrugs. “You just told me that it took us by surprise, and you’re here blaming yourself. Seriously.”

“That’s Midoriya for ya!” Present Mic grins, “Ready to take the blame anytime, free of charge. Contact now at — ”

“Sensei,” he interjects weakly, “I’m — I’m not that bad, aren’t I?”

No one responds to that. Izuku grimaces, and they all laugh at him.

“We should get going," Todoroki says, turning to Aizawa’s direction. They stay for a while, before finally agreeing to go. They bid Present Mic goodbye, who reciprocates it with a soft smile.

Peering in their classmates’ rooms, they find that none are awake yet. They expected that, but they can’t help but worry. They may all be stable and are said to wake up soon, but the longer the days go by without them even stirring, the more the rest of them become anxious.

Then they reach their last stop — Shinsou’s room.

Ojirou seems hesitant to enter, which is completely understandable. Following the Sports Festival, the two of them have yet to make up. Still, his worry must have overcome his grudge, because he’s the first one to enter.

They’re welcomed by Shinsou’s unconscious figure, bandages around his body. He heard that Shinsou was the one most exposed to the explosion, and he feels bad. Maybe if he pressed Shinsou further to join them, he wouldn’t have been so close there. He could’ve done something. Why did he just… why didn’t he do anything?

“Are you blaming yourself?” Todoroki asks quietly. Izuku shakes his head. “Oh, so you are blaming yourself.”

Izuku laughs, more subdued than his usual as he takes the seat beside Shinsou. “How do you know me so well?”

Todoroki doesn’t respond. Izuku’s hands tremble on his lap as he recalls the attack. He closes his eyes, aware of the worried looks that his friends are sending him.

“You… you look like you’re — at a funeral,” he freezes, knowing whose voice that is. He gapes at Shinsou who still has his eyes closed. “And — since you’re in my room, it feels like my funeral. Stop it.”

“Shinsou!” he and Hagakure exclaim in sync, while Todoroki presses a button. “Do you need water? Do you need anything? Should I go get a nurse?”

“You do know I just called for one, right?” Todoroki says, amused.

“Oh, oh right,” so that’s what that button is for. “Anyway, you’re awake! How are you? Anything hurt? You must be thirsty, right?”

“You sound like a nurse, Deku. Are you one?” Kacchan scoffs. “You aren’t, so fucking calm down. You can’t do shit anyway, just wait.”

“Sorry,” Izuku apologises. He’s just worried.

“It’s f-fine,” Shinsou replies, voice rough and scratchy from disuse, and he tries to sit up. At once, most of them are trying to keep him down, knowing that he’s not in the condition to do so. “I can’t even sit, in my own fucking room?”

“You’re hurt,”

“No way, really.” Shinsou deadpans. “It doesn’t… hurt. I’m fine.”

“Dumbass, it’s the painkillers,” Kacchan says, leaning against the wall. “If you reopen your wounds, that’s on you.”

Shinsou glares at him, but seems to consider his words. As though realising that he should stay in bed, he lies back down, not saying anything until the nurses enter. They check on him, asking him countless questions, and when they leave the room, they once again settle beside Shinsou.

He seems… tired. Exhausted beyond belief. He must be, since he just woke up. And he doesn’t want to bother him anymore, really, but they need something. A culprit. An idea as to what exactly happened to them.

“Shinsou, do you remember anything?” he asks, not for the first time. They’ve all been going around, trying to piece together what they can. “We just...”

Shinsou pauses. His eyes are glazed over, and he’s not moving. He’s staring at the wall, as if in deep thought, and they look at one another unsurely.

“Um, hi?” Hagakure tries. That pulls him out of his trance, and he blinks a few times, gaze darting around but never at any of them.

“Sorry,” Shinsou says, “but I — I remember nothing.”

Izuku clenches his fists, disappointment rising in his chest. He really hoped… he wanted someone to know something, because it’s been three days and they still have no clue as to what actually went down. Not them, not their teachers, no one.

“Oh,” he says sadly, thorns in his throat. “That’s too bad.”

Shinsou purses his lips together, face blank.

“Yeah,” he says, staring out of the window. Lightning crackles within their view, and rain starts to pour down. “Too bad.”

They leave Shinsou’s room when he starts to fall asleep, giving him space. There’s a heavy tension in the air as they head back to their own room, knowing that they haven't made any progress.

But he's hiding something, isn't he? Izuku can read people well, and he knows that Shinsou was lying through his gritted teeth.

Not wanting to voice out his suspicions and risk darkening the mood further, however, Izuku simply pulls out his phone, checking his messages before looking at the time.

“Oh,” he says. It’s already one in the afternoon. “We should go eat. I’ll get us something from the vending machine.”

“Let’s just get food together, there’s one near our room.” Hagakure tells him, pointing in its direction. He scrunches up his nose.

“The food choices are different,” he counters, rubbing the back of his neck.

Todoroki nods in agreement. “I like that better, too. You’re talking about the one in the other hall, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pocketing his phone. They all then head there, conversing about random stuff. Not paying attention, he stumbles as he bumps into someone.

“I’m sorry!” he picks up the fallen paper, handing it to the woman. She’s about to take it but stops, retracting her hand as though she’s been burned. She glares at him — he takes notice of her bright blue eyes, like All Might's — and she crosses her arms in front of her.

Izuku glances at the badge that's barely visible behind the strands of her red hair. A Hero Commission agent.

“You’re from Class 1-A, aren’t you?” the agent asks, as though it would be anyone else considering the fact that she’s on their floor. “Midoriya Izuku.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Kacchan demands, stepping forward. He sends her an apprehensive look, but she barely takes notice of it.

“None of your business,” she says, “Bakugou Katsuki.”

Before anyone else can say anything, Snipe suddenly appears from the other end of the hall and approaches them. He nods at them in acknowledgement, before turning to the woman.

“Watanabe Akemi,” he greets, voice oddly monotonous. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

The two of them walk away, not before sending them one last glare, as though angry at them. And when they’re out of sight, Ojirou exhales in relief.

“What was that?” Hagakure mutters. “That was so weird.”

Izuku furrows his brows, wondering if something’s going on that they’re not aware of. That’s erased from his mind when he remembers what they’re in that hall for.

“In any case, let’s go grab food?”

They all head to the vending machine, not daring to mention what just happened back there.