Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Izuku, food’s ready!”

Inko Midoriya steps back to admire her work, untying her apron with practiced ease before returning it home to its designated hook. Two bowls of katsudon sit before her, having been meticulously prepared to suit the now rare occasion of a shared family lunch.

Well, a family lunch minus Hisashi, she supposes, but pigs would have to fly before he was expected home. Actually, scratch that. In a society filled with quirks, pigs flying was probably far more likely. She stops thinking about her husband.

Her declaration ignored, Inko lifts one bowl in either hand and sets the table, scanning her apartment’s admittedly compact den to discover the source of Izuku’s distraction. Surprisingly enough, he appears to be intently focused not on the news or daily hero update channel as she expected, but some sort of documentary.

His face, which is just visible from her vantage point, displays an intense contemplation, and his entire posture is inclined towards the television. Inko almost feels bad disrupting Izuku’s focus, but quickly thinks better of it. She knows he’ll regret it if he lets his food cool.

“Izuku.” She repeats once more, walking over to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Lunch is on the table.”

Izuku stirs slowly, as if waking from an especially vexing dream, and cranes his neck to face her. “Sorry, mom, what was that?”

Now Inko can’t help but feel a bit concerned. Izuku may be a tad distracted from time to time, but he usually isn’t lethargic. Then again, she does know that his workload has been especially heavy lately. More likely than anything, he’s simply tired from long nights studying.

“Lunch.” She states simply, and is happy to see a spark of recognition light her son’s face.

“Ah, right. I’ll be right over.”

Inko doesn’t take her eyes off Izuku as she returns to the table, watching with cautious interest as he switches off the television. When he turns to join her, she can tell that a bit of color has returned to his face, and allows herself to look away.

“Katsudon?”

“Yep! I thought I might as well go all out and make your favorite considering how sparse these home visitation days are becoming.”

“Oh. Right.” Izuku shakes his head slightly, that same dazed look resting over his face like a veil. “Yeah, for a second I… nevermind.”

“Nevermind what?”

Izuku shrugs and says, “It’s not important.”

Inko’s worry returns full force. Her son doesn’t normally dismiss questions. Is Izuku hiding something from her, or is this just him being dodgy as a result of his newfound independence?

She decides to change the topic.

“What were you watching in there? That didn’t look like one of your usual channels.”

At this, Izuku perks up, obviously engaged. “Oh, that was a documentary about New York! It was on when I came in, and I guess I sort of got invested somehow? It was pretty touristy, but there were some interesting historical bits. It was weird though, supposedly it was filmed around four years ago, but it looked a lot different from when we visited. A lot more modern, I guess? It’s just hard to believe they could do so much construction in a year.”

Inko almost drops her utensils. Instead, she manages a nervous laugh. “Izuku… what do you mean when we visited? Neither of us have ever been to New York. Oh- but didn’t you visit America during that class trip? Maybe that’s what you’re thinking of.”

“No, that wasn’t New York, it was I-Island. I think it’d be pretty hard to mix them up.” Izuku raises an eyebrow. Based on his expression, he thinks she’s joking. “Mom, remember? We went over the Summer when I was eleven. We ate at that same bagel place every morning because it was right across from our hotel, Best Bagels?”

Inko shakes her head helplessly. She has absolutely no idea what her son is talking about.

“Coney Island? The Empire State Building? Do you remember going to Central Park?”

Inko continues to shake her head. No, no, and no.

Izuku is beginning to look a bit lost. “You’re joking, right? I mean, I know it was a few years ago, but… wait!”

Inko hopes her son has finally come to the conclusion that they have, in fact, never taken a family trip to New York, city or state, but of course, she isn't so lucky.

“The purse snatcher! You’ve gotta remember that! I stopped him outside of our hotel, but it caused a huge commotion because civilians aren't supposed to use their-”

Izuku’s voice cuts off mid-sentence, and unlike Inko, he does drop his utensils. He doesn’t even look down as they clatter to the floor. “We… we didn’t go to New York, did we?”

Inko doesn’t jump on the I told you so. “No, we didn’t. Izuku, are you feeling-”

“I should get back to school.” He stands so abruptly that the table shakes, nearly sending both bowls of katsudon sliding towards Inko’s lap. She steadies it just in time.

“But you just got here! Besides, I made lunch today just for you, and I’m not sure when we’ll get another chance to see each other in person. School’s been keeping you so busy lately, and… well, frankly, I’m a little concerned for your health.”

Izuku looks right through her, his eyes roving back and forth the way they tend to when he's overthinking an especially complicated issue.

“Izuku, are you listening to me?”

“Right, yeah.” Izuku dashes back into the living room, grabbing his backpack. With all the grace and consideration of a steamroller, he unzips the frontmost pocket and produces his phone. “I’m sorry to leave so soon mom, but I have a lot of homework, and, well, you know how UA is. There are a lot of high achievers, I’ve gotta keep on top of things if I wanna maintain my class rank.”

“But- you told me just this morning that you’d finished all your homework for the weekend last night!” She sputters.

“Uh, sorry, I forgot some. I promise I’ll stay later next time.” Izuku aggressively punches a number into his phone before slinging his still open backpack over his shoulder. “Love you, mom! Sorry!”

Inko receives one haphazard over the shoulder wave before her son flits out the door. All she can do is stare onward in disbelief, mouth agape.

After she composes herself, she picks up her half empty bowl, appetite ruined. She reaches for Izuku’s as well, but stops midway.

He never even touched his katsudon.

By the time Izuku reaches the dorm complex, he’s feeling much more calm. Okay, well maybe not much more, but… it's a start.

All Might didn’t pick up Izuku’s call, but he did respond to his text. They’re meeting this afternoon, which means that whatever weird new vestige thing this is, it’s definitely going to be resolved soon.

Or at least he assumes it’s a vestige thing. Why else would he have memories of stopping a purse snatcher with black whip? Memories so vivid that he's still having trouble believing he’s never lived them?

Admittedly, his mother’s face had been a bit blurry at first, when he’d been watching the documentary. But a bit of haziness was expected of memories, especially the kind that were five years old. Then, as soon as he’d looked at her, each image had snapped into focus.

Him, enthusiastic and hyperactive, trying his best to use english whenever he ordered food or boarded a taxi, dragging his mother by the hand to every grimy, city-weathered attraction that struck his interest. Her, tired, yet persevering, cautioning him against cutting in line for what felt like the fiftieth time every time, telling him not to pick fights with every suspicious-looking stanger that walked by.

That’s when the dissonance had started. Because he’d never been one to cut in line or start fights, and he certainly hadn’t been energetic enough at age eleven to lead his mother unwillingly across a crowded urban street.

He’d ignored that for a bit though, because it didn’t really seem that far fetched. In fact, after a moment of consideration, it had felt almost too in character. He’d been a confident and gung-ho kid, even to a fault, he was absolutely sure of it.

But when he’d recalled using black whip, well… he knows for certain that he hadn’t had a quirk at age eleven.

So had those been the fifth’s memories? Izuku has to assume as much. But then why had they felt so real? So personal?

He’s seen the first’s memories before, certainly, but that had occurred within the confines of ofa, not passively while watching tv. And he certainly hadn’t confused them with his own past.

Izuku really hopes it was a one time thing. The shock of realizing that your memories aren't really yours isn’t just startling, it's invasive. And alienating. 

He wonders what his mother was thinking, listening to him excitedly recounting a personal family anecdote that neither of them had actually taken part in. 

And she must've noticed when, for a few moments, he'd grappled with the idea that katsudon was his favorite food. He knows he must’ve told her it was at some point, but now, whenever he calls the meal to mind, his opinion begins to vacillate violently between appetizing and nausea inducing.

The last thing he wants to do is make his mother worry. But by now, he knows it’s probably too late for that. She's always been prone to anxiety, and in this case, he can't really blame her.

Izuku doesn’t expect to see anyone in the common area, but is pleasantly surprised to find Momo reading on the couch. She looks up at him as he enters, greeting him with a warm grin.

“How was your home visit?”

“It was good,” Izuku lies. “Did you end up staying in?”

Momo nods. “My parents are out of town, so I decided to use the time to catch up on my reading. I certainly wouldn’t mind a bit of company though, if you’re up to talk.”

“That sounds really nice, actually.” Izuku joins his friend on the couch, returning her bright grin.

He could really use a distraction, and Momo is always interesting to talk to. Maybe he can ask her about her book. She usually has good taste.

“You look a bit stressed. Are you doing alright?”

Izuku startles. He’s always been an open book, far too easy to read. He tries his best to relax his stiff posture, taking a deep breath in, then out. It doesn’t work.

“Yeah, I’m… I’ve got some stuff on my mind. Nothing serious. Actually, it’ll probably resolve itself before too long. I’m overreacting.”

Momo shakes her head. “There are no wrong reasons for being anxious, Midoriya. If it’s upsetting you, then it’s worth talking about. If you’d like to vent or don’t mind receiving some advice, I’d be happy to help.”

“Uh, sure! To the advice thing,” Izuku replies. “Do you know any good ways to distract yourself when you’re stressed? I usually just throw myself into hero analysis or training, but… right now, I think that might just remind me of my problem more than distract me from it.”

“Well, if a distraction is what you’re looking for, I usually find that tasks requiring both focus and muscle memory work best. For instance, I play piano when I’m feeling especially overwhelmed.”

“Oh yeah, I could do that. It actually sounds really relaxing.” Izuku isn’t sure why he didn’t think of it before. He loves playing piano.

“Oh? Really?” For some reason, Momo looks surprised. “Well, if you’d like me to teach you, I suppose I could.”

“Oh no!” Izuku waves his hands dismissively. “I’d never ask you to do that, especially not for free. Don’t worry, I already know how to play. But I’d really appreciate it if you could let me borrow your keyboard.”

Now Momo looks even more surprised, but after a moment of silence, she stands. “Alright, no problem. I’ll go get it then.”

As soon as Momo renters the room, Izuku is next to her, lifting the heavy carrying case from her hands. Then, in what feels like a matter of seconds, he makes his way back to the couch, removes the keyboard from its alcove, and lays out all its necessary accessories on the coffee table.

Momo steps forward to show him the assembling process, but to her evident shock, he seems to have everything under control. With the enthusiasm and deftness of a practiced pianist, Izuku ensures every piece finds its place, stopping only after he props Momo’s favorite music book up on the instrument’s detachable stand.

Simultaneously, students have begun to filter back into the dorms from days spent out, a number of which choose to pause and watch the unlikely scene unfolding in front of Momo. Izuku has never touched an instrument in his life, at least not that they’ve seen. He certainly never enters the soundproof practice rooms UA provides, and no one has heard music wafting out from his dorm.

Izuku thumbs his way through the book for a moment, though based on his expression, he finds it somewhat disappointing. After he’s checked the title of every song, he shuts the book, tucking it safely back in the keyboard case before placing his hands in a starting position.

And then he starts to play.

Momo is immediately floored. Izuku is good. Izuku is really, really good. Actually, no. He isn’t just good. He is, quite possibly, one of the best pianists she’s ever heard.

She knows the song. Trois mouvements de Petrouchka. It’s insanely difficult, ludicrously complicated, and over fifteen minutes long. She’s never even attempted it. And yet Izuku is sailing through it as if he’s done nothing but eat, sleep, breathe, and play piano his entire life.

He does make mistakes. Two, separated sparsely throughout the song’s length. But they’re hardly noticeable. He knows how to recover. She’s not even sure any of her classmates catch them.

By the end of the song, she’s so humbled that she actually considers giving him her keyboard. Then, the rancorous applause shakes her out of her stupor. She joins in.

Izuku, who had previously possessed no awareness of anyone occupying the room aside from himself and Momo, begins to blush profusely. He’s used to playing in front of people, but for whatever reason, this time feels different. Fresh. Almost like it’s his first time playing for a crowd again.

His classmates begin to comment in a chorus, voices clamoring over each other in quick succession.

“Whoa, dude, didn’t know you could play piano! That was crazy!”

“How did you get so good?”

“Yeah, and why haven’t you played for us before?”

“Do you do contemporary music too?”

“Uh… well, you see… I, uh,” Izuku stutters. “Practice? I don’t know? And sure?”

“Alright, stop crowding the talent!” Mina pushes her way to the front of the admittedly unimpressively sized mob, employing all the stoic self-importance of a bouncer. “One at a time! Which means me first!”

Triumphantly, she turns on Izuku, face bearing an enormous smile. “Okay seriously though, why didn’t we hear about this during the school festival? You and Yaomomo could’ve done a cool piano duet or something! Are those a thing? Piano duets?”

Izuku is still obviously incredibly flustered, but this time, he manages a more coherent answer. “Uh, yeah, I guess we could’ve done four hands or duo. I just… really wanted to dance? I guess?”

For the life of him, Izuku can’t remember why he didn’t volunteer to play keyboard during the school festival. He loves piano. He always has. Maybe he didn’t want to be in the spotlight? That sounds like him, he does get stage fright fairly easily, after all. But then again, he’s competed in multiple nationwide competitions, why would a school festival scare him off?

“Hmmm… okay.” Mina leans in close, inspecting Izuku’s face with mock solemnity. “Checks out for now. I respect the right to dance. But you’re like... no offense, Midoriya, keep in mind that I mean this is the absolute nicest way possible, kinda shit at it compared to the piano.”

Okay, that stings a little. But it’s probably true. “Yeah, I mean, piano’s always sort of been a passion. I mean, it wasn’t like I could really do anything outside the house when I was younger, so I had to find something to keep myself busy.”

“Why couldn’t you leave the house?” Kyoka’s tone is equal parts disbelieving and inquisitive, and Izuku can’t help but feel a bit defensive.

“I was sick a lot as a child,” he explained. “I always had a pretty poor constitution, even the most minor illnesses and allergies typically resulted in a hospital visit. Additionally, I had a few chronic illnesses that were fairly dire, but the specifics aren’t really important. The takeaway is that I didn’t get out much.”

“Whoa, dude, I had no idea!” Denki exclaims, and he sounds the part. “How did you end up being able to come to UA and stuff? I mean you seem pretty healthy now, what happened?"

With a sinking feeling, Izuku realizes that he’s always been able to go to UA, at least as far as his health is involved. He’d gone outside pretty regularly as a child, and it wasn’t as though his health was what had discouraged him from interacting with other kids his age.

Does that mean his history with the piano is a lie too? No- it can’t be. He just played it after all, and everyone seems to think he’s done pretty well. So he’d learned it for some other reason, fine, but he’d learned it. Piano is an integral part of who he is, it always has been.

But then, why has nobody seen him play before?

“I need to go,” Izuku blurts. “I have a meeting with All Might soon. To discuss my grades. It’s really urgent. Bye.”

In truth, his meeting with All Might isn’t going to start for another ten minutes or so, not counting the walk. But he isn’t about to tell any of his peers that, not while they're begging him to stay and explain.

Ignoring his classmates' protests, Izuku makes a beeline for the door. Luckily none of them follow him, but someone is waiting for him outside. Katsuki.

“The fuck was that, Deku?” he growls, advancing on Izuku. “I thought we were past hiding shit from each other. I’ve been over to your apartment more times than I can count, and I’ve never seen anything even vaguely resembling a piano. And that bullshit about being sick? Why the fuck would you even lie about that?”

All Izuku can muster is a faint, “So I guess I don’t play piano, then.”

Katsuki reels. “No. No, you do play piano. You crystal fucking clearly play piano. You just decided to hide it from me for fuck knows why.”

“No, Kacchan, you don’t understand-”

“Then explain it to me.”

Izuku tries to piece his thoughts together into something coherent, but nothing seems to fit, because he’s still so sure that he loves to play the piano, and who the hell is Katsuki to tell him whether he was or wasn’t sick as a child when he knows he was, and he thinks that maybe his mom really is wrong about their allegedly nonexistent trip to New York because it definitely happened.

“I think it’s an ofa thing. I’m not sure. I keep remembering all these experiences that I'm absolutely positive are integral to my past, but everyone else says I’ve never lived through them. I’m not trying to lie, but I’m just not sure I know what’s true and what isn’t right now.”

Katsuki's expression is now regretful rather than accusatory, and Izuku can't help but sigh in relief. Someone understands. And it’s even better that that someone is privy to ofa.

"Shit. And I'm guessing All Might never warned you about this?"

Izuku shrugs. "You know everything I do."

"Shit," Katsuki repeats. "I mean if this is completely unprecedented… I don't like the implications of that."

Izuku laughs, but the sound is more than a little strangled. "Yeah, me neither. I mean it's already weird enough right now and it's only been what, a quarter of a day? I don’t know what I’ll do if it gets any worse. When it had just happened once, that was reassuring. I really thought I was overreacting, you know? I mean one false memory isn't a big deal. But if this doesn't stop… I seriously can't tell the difference, Kacchan. What if the false memories start feeling more convincing than the real ones?"

A beat of silence passes.

"You said you had a meeting with All Might, right? I'm going with you." 

Izuku can't help but think of how typical it is for Katsuki to change the subject when it grows too emotional for him. Well, unless that emotion is anger, but either way, the recognition of his friend's old habit is slightly grounding.

And the foundation of memories that led to it are indisputably his.

Katsuki's concern makes him feel horrible, even if his friend does have an unconventional way of conveying the emotion. He's always hated being a burden, even more so since becoming a hero. He tries to assuage his friend's fears, putting on what he hopes isn't too shaky a grin.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. You can forget what I said, earlier, by the way. I'm sure we'll be able to resolve this soon, no problem. All Might will definitely know what to do."

"Yeah." Katsuki's tone makes it evident that he doesn't expect much, and he's engaging in more than one of his nervous habits simultaneously.

Katsuki's reaction doesn't exactly come across as a vote of confidence, and as terrible as Izuku feels for causing his friend anxiety, he can't help but feed off of it a bit. It's a little too easy, considering all the factors at play.

He already has his hands full enough with figuring out his new quirk; even if his memory crisis is resolvable, he’s not certain that he has the time or effort available to properly address it. But he doesn't really want to think on that too hard. Better to stay optimistic.

The two begin their trudge to the main building in silence, though Izuku can feel Katsuki’s concerned gaze burning into the edge of his vision on multiple occasions. This does nothing to improve his mood.

All Might is waiting in the break room just as planned, but oddly enough, he's pacing the floor restlessly rather than sitting on the couch. 

Izuku's text had been vague; he hadn't wanted to alarm his mentor unnecessarily, and texts could be easily intercepted, so he'd stuck to a simple we need to meet as soon as possible rather than the more complex my quirk is acting weird again and it's actually really stressing me the fuck out, can you please help me right now before I end up horribly embarrassing myself again??? that he'd felt like sending at the moment.

Of course, he'd never have phrased it like that, but the tone definitely would have remained intact, at the very least.

Either way, All Might shouldn’t have any reason to worry. As far as he knows now, this is just a regular advisory meeting to discuss his progress with black whip, not their first time discussing an unexpected new problem.

"Midoriya, and I see you've brought Bakugo as well," All Might says by way of greeting. "I know that both of you must be very concerned, but I've been assured that UA is well-fortified enough to hold off any possible assaults. Not that it's likely one will be made in the next few days, even he should require some time to recover from an exertion of that magnitude. Even so, I promise to do my absolute utmost to protect you and your peers from harm."

Izuku shoots Katsuki a confused glance, but his friend is already too busy stepping forward to question whatever considerable jump in logic All Might has employed to notice.

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

Suddenly, All Might looks just as confused as Izuku feels. "Has the information not been publicized yet? Hm… that does make sense, I suppose. Tartarus always has been slow to release information outside of its trusted circle, especially when they feel it won't contribute to civilian safety. Perhaps I've jumped the gun here- but no. You two have a right to know now, there's no point in delaying it."

"Delaying what?" This time, it's Izuku who poses a question. "What happened at Tartarus?"

All Might casts his gaze to the floor. "All For One escaped police captivity earlier this morning. His whereabouts are currently unknown."

Izuku's heart drops in his chest. He isn't ready for another encounter with All For One. He hasn't even mastered One For All yet, much less the seven other quirks he supposedly has in his arsenal. That's not even mentioning whatever's begun altering his memories, and he can't imagine intense self-doubt is an asset on the battlefield. If he has to fight now, well…

"You're fucking kidding me," Katsuki snorts. "There's just no way in Hell that this happens on the same day as Deku's insane memory shit. It's the lousiest fucking coincidence in the history of lousy fucking coincidences."

All Might raises an eyebrow. "What exactly are you referring to, kid?"

"It's why I asked to meet." Izuku tries and fails to filter the growing panic out of his voice. "I've been having these weird moments when I remember things - or, more when I act on the things I remember, I guess - and someone who knows me tells me they aren't real. The memories I'm acting on, I mean. I think one of them belonged to the fifth vestige, and the other… maybe the first? I… don't really know them well enough to say."

"That's definitely new," All Might acknowledges. "And you can't distinguish these memories from your own?"

"No. Not unless someone helps me. And even then, they're… persistent. I'm still struggling to accept that some of them aren't mine."

All Might's mouth tightens into a thin line. "When did this start?"

"Earlier today, I think, but… I can't really say for sure. I mean today is definitely when I noticed first, but the memories seem to be latent. I don't realize they're false unless someone calls me out on them, and I can't be called out unless something inspires me to bring them up around someone who knows enough to dispute the inaccuracies."

"So what you're sayin' is, this could've started a long time ago, and you wouldn'tve had a clue?" Katsuki asks.

"Yes, basically."

He scowls. "Big help that is."

All Might walks over to take a seat on a couch, gesturing for Izuku and Katsuki to occupy the one opposite. They comply.

"Okay kid, I'm going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer with whatever comes most naturally to you. Keep your eyes on me, and don't look away until I tell you to. Bakugo, I want you to nod when Midoriya's answers align with what you know about him, and shake your head when they don't. Do both of you understand?"

Both nod.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen," Izuku answers without pause. "I'll be seventeen next July."

"Where were you born?"

"Shizouka Prefecture. I don't remember the name of the hospital."

"Don't worry, that's detailed enough," All Might assures. "What type of car do you drive?"

"A Prius." Another near-instantaneous response.

"Hm. And finally, what's your favorite color?"

"Yellow."

"Well, that didn't go as poorly as it could've, all things considered." All Might exhales a sigh.

Izuku frowns. "What do you mean? Did I get one wrong?"

"Seriously?" Katsuki scoffs. "Well, for starters, you're sixteen, you fucking moron. You can't legally drive."

"Oh." Izuku blinks. "Oh. How many did I get right then?"

"Two."

Izuku sinks down into the couch. Half wrong. Fifty percent inaccuracy. And he'd thought he owned a car. His mother doesn't even own a car, she rents one.

"I'm sorry, I don't know how I thought that was right. But… could you help me out with the other one?"

"There's no need to apologize.  None of this is your fault," All Might says. "But before Bakugo answers your second question, I have to ask: why is yellow your favorite color?"

"Well, it's the happiest color out there, obviously! A hero's main goal is supposed to be rescuing people in danger, sure, but what's the point if you can't bring a smile to their faces while you're at it? It isn't enough just to save, you need to spread around a sense of joy and security too. Yellow represents that for me."

Sometime during Izuku’s explanation, All Might's face had begun to pale. Now, he looks as white as a sheet.

"Word for word," he mutters in awe. "And exactly the same mannerisms too. The intonation, the expressions… I can't believe it. You're her spitting image."

"Your mentor, Shimura." Izuku's cautious grin rapidly deteriorates into a frown. "She said that, didn't she?"

All Might nods, face still a ghastly white.

"Your favorite color is red. Has been since you were five." Katsuki's voice is monotone, but he's tapping his shoe against the floor like his life depends on it.

Izuku's vision begins to go fuzzy. "No. No, that definitely isn't true. I hate red. It reminds me of blood, and-"

So many people dead. So many he couldn't save, scattered around him, lying mangled, beaten. He should be used to this by now, but there's just so many, more even, in one place, than he saw during the tsunami two years ago, or the attack from the wolf quirk villain that took out an entire town the year before that.

And he's about to be one of them, his bloods already pooling around him, it's gurgling up in his throat, he's choking on it . So why are the footsteps still approaching?

I'm down, he wants to say. I'm already dead, with or without your intervention. Let me die like this, alone. Please. Don't I deserve that much?

But he can't even form a syllable. And then, the ultimate terror. A hand blurs into sight, covered in red, red like the corpses, red like the dirt, red like the gaping wound in his chest, red in his throat, in his lungs, red - and then black.

"Hey, Deku! Snap out of it already, you shitty nerd!"

Izuku is on the floor beneath the coffee table. His heart is racing, and his breath is escaping his mouth in quick, staccato spurts. Every muscle in his body is tense, wound as tight as a coil, and he can't seem to stop himself from shaking.

"I-" he doesn't finish the sentence. It hangs in the air above his head like a deadweight.

"It's gonna be fine. All Might is getting Recovery Girl." Katsuki sinks to the floor next to him. He places what he intends to be a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, but has to yank it back in surprise when Izuku flinches away from the touch.

"Don't." Izuku feels sick to his stomach. All he wants to do is hurl, but instead, painstakingly, he works to steady his breathing.

"I'm sorry," Izuku manages after a few minutes of even heartbeats.

"Stop apologizing, Deku," Katsuki replies. "It's getting old."

Izuku manages to laugh at that, somehow. "Okay. Sorry."

A trip to the nurse's office, a cookie, and an infographic later, Izuku is feeling the most tired he's ever felt in his entire life.

Apparently, he just had a flashback. Recovery girl claims that based on his episode's severity and lasting effects, she's inclined to say it closely resembles experiences undergone by those with ptsd. She seems almost certain that he has it, but in truth, it's a tentative diagnosis, and not one she's legally empowered to officiate.

Izuku desperately hopes there's no correlation. He's seen heroes' careers end because of trauma induced mental disorders more than once, and his hasn't even technically begun yet.

How unfair would it be, if he was unable to go on because of an emotionally scarring event he'd never even experienced? He can't let that happen. He just can't.

Izuku's shoes are gone, but he has no idea who took them. And he's glad, because if he remembers correctly they were… not a nice color. Recovery Girl has given him a replacement pair from the lost and found bin. They don't fit him, but they are yellow. Which, despite the background information at his disposal, he still appreciates.

Katsuki and All Might were chased out by Recovery Girl what Izuku estimates to be around twenty minutes ago, though he certainly hadn't asked them to leave. He wants to call them back in, but unfortunately, his overseer isn't as receptive to the idea.

According to her, he needs to rest and recuperate, which he supposes he has to concede to.He's been desperate to speak to the ofa vestiges since the day's first incident, and it seems that time is only providing further motivation.

So even though Recovery Girl has left to attend to more dire matters, he's still lying compliantly in the same spot where she left him. The room is dark now, lights off and blinds drawn, and lying down on its only bed, it's easy to drift into sleep.

Until his phone starts ringing. Izuku's breath hitches, and he almost chucks the contents of his pockets across the room before he realizes-

"Oh. Mom is calling."

Izuku picks up his phone, trying to calm himself enough to at least sound normal. He accepts the call.

"Hi, mom." His voice sounds hollow, drained. But luckily, for once, his mother doesn't seem to notice at all.

"Izuku, you'll never guess who just called! Go ahead, guess!"

Izuku tries not to flinch away from his phone. Where is his mother's usual volume control?

"Uh, I dunno? That one actor you like? The guy with the… he's tall?" Izuku can't remember names right now. Not that he's confident he'd get them right either way.

"No, better!" His mother replies. "Your father! See, apparently there was this accident, and- well, he couldn't contact us because it was very brutal- Not that I'm happy about that mind you- no it's terrible, and I'm more than a little concerned, but you know, I really thought, for a while, that he was- well it doesn't matter! Point is, he's coming home, Izuku! He'll be back in Japan next week!"

"Wait, seriously?!" Suddenly, Izuku feels a lot less tired. "What did he say exactly? What happened? Was it bad? Did he make a full recovery?"

"He's fine, Izuku, he's fine!" His mother sounds close to tears. "I can't believe it's been so many years… and, then the silence… I worried about him every single day, you know, just like I'm certain you did. And apparently he was worried about us too. When he called, you were the first thing he asked about. He wanted to tell you that-"

His mother's voice breaks. She's definitely crying now, and hard.

"- He cares about you so much, and it killed him that he couldn't contact you. Oh, Izuku, I'm sorry! I shouldn't be getting so emotional, but I was just so worried, and now- well, now, I'm just so, so relieved!"

Izuku is crying too now. He can't help it.

If memory serves - and honestly, he's not sure it does - then he and his father have always been close. Well, in a sense of speaking, at least. 

Izuku can't really remember what his father's face looks like (when he wants to, he relies on pictures), but the two have spoken multiple times a week every week over the phone ever since he'd decided to take a job overseas.

At first, the two had video-called, but that had ended sometime around six or seven years ago. The switch to strictly audible communication had been disappointing at first, though Izuku was assured that it was simply the product of a busier work schedule. Phone Calls could be made while driving, eating, or performing unintensive tasks, so it was much easier for his father to fit them into his schedule.

That’d made sense to Izuku, though he still wasn’t exactly sure why video calls had become completely taboo. America supposedly had longer weekends, and it wasn’t as if there weren’t national holidays. His father couldn’t have been that busy, could he? But as it turned out, as long as the two could talk, the method didn’t really matter. Izuku adjusted to the phone calls, and soon enough, they became the norm.

He and his father had always talked about the expected things of course. Grades, work, health, and on rare occasions, Izuku’s friends. He'd always lied a bit then, the same way he had to his mother. He hadn't wanted either of his parents to worry.

After all the typical pleasantries, however, the talks wandered to far more interesting (and substantially less distressing) subjects. Almost every call without fail, the main focus of the two's conversations eventually turned to quirk analysis.

Izuku had apparently inherited, either through observation or genetics, the same penchant for the subject that his father had, according to his mother, always possessed. Most nights, Izuku would prop open his analysis books, read his latest musing aloud, and receive coaching regarding the applications and weaknesses he'd failed to perceive. It seemed that there was always something substantial he'd failed to notice that his father instantly recognized, and his rationalizations never failed to elicit breakthroughs that Izuku is certain he wouldn't have come to otherwise.

Sometimes, his father would quiz him on new, hypothetical quirks, and others, he would pit against each other in order to explore possible outcomes. Izuku's favorite exercises usually involved the analysis of particular heroes, though, much to his chagrin, his father had never been willing to discuss All Might. Apparently, the hero's quirk was too direct to prove interesting enough for his tastes, though Izuku had tried and failed on multiple occasions to convince him that it was anything but.

Even so, the conversations were as engaging as they were productive, and Izuku had looked forward to them every week.

Until one day, a few months ago, when they had simply stopped. Izuku had waited expectedly during the scheduled time, phone in hand, the day he'd first moved into his dorm room, only to never receive a call that had arrived like clockwork each week prior for as long as he could remember.

So then, he'd called. And no one had answered.

When he'd contacted his mother, she'd simply told him to wait. He always called her after he and Izuku were done talking after all, and if he failed to do that, then he was probably just busy, and would get back to them later.

So they'd waited. But a call never came, not for days that turned into weeks, and then weeks that turned into months.

His mother had tried, early on, to get ahold of someone who could update her on her husband's situation, but had quickly realized just how little information she had regarding his whereabouts. Although she'd swore she had the details written down somewhere, she couldn't for the life of her find an address, city, or even state, linked to her husband or the business that employed him.

With some shock, both she and Izuku had come to the realization that he'd never actually told them his exact location when recounting his routine, just given minor, easily generalized details about his surroundings. Details that could apply to almost every city and state that America had to offer. His mother had no idea why she'd never noticed or questioned the fact, though she eventually concluded that she'd simply never thought to ask.

After some digging, she'd found that the company he worked for either no longer existed, or never had, and that the number he'd been calling from was similarly out of service.

She still received checks in the mail, deposited at the same intervals and containing the same amount of money as they always had, so she'd tried to trace them. And had. To an extent. But after all her work, the avenue only proved to be another dead end.

When she'd called the police, Izuku's mother had had trouble even convincing them to treat the case as a serious one. Her lack of information had led them to believe that she was at first a stalker, and later, after marriage certificate pictures were sent, an unwilling divorcee.

Even after all assumptions had been disproven, and the police were finally spurred into action, they had come up completely empty. Hizashi Midoriya was officially America's least informed missing persons case.

Until now, apparently.

"It's okay, Mom," Izuku manages. "I feel the same way."

"Oh, oh, of course you do, Izuku!" His mother's voice is still strained. "I'm sorry I ever implied otherwise. He wanted to call you too, but… well, he's understandably busy. But just think! In one week, we'll be meeting him in person!"

"Yeah… I… I'm just glad that he's alright, Mom. Even knowing that is enough. And the fact that he hasn't called me is more than okay, I understand completely." 

Izuku is actually a bit relieved. Now, he'll have more time to recuperate and gather his thoughts before he talks to his father again. Which means there's less chance that he'll embarrass himself by means of an incorrectly recalled memory.

Maybe the issue will even be completely resolved by then. At the very least, he's unwilling to discount the possibility.

His mother sniffles. "You're such an amazing son, Izuku. What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"I mean, probably something pretty awful? Didn't you say just last week that I worry you so much that you're afraid I'll send you to an early grave?"

She laughs, and the sound is only slightly waterlogged. "Only because you get into such dangerous situations! The only awful thing I do is encourage you to pursue a career path that ends up hurting you so regularly!"

This conversation is getting far too real for Izuku’s liking. "I have to go Mom, I really need to talk to some of my teachers."

It's not technically a lie. The vestiges do teach him things, and he definitely needs to talk to them.

"Okay, I'll let you go," his mother sighs. "Just please make sure to pace yourself. I'm worried that all this hard work is going to lead to burnout."

"Of course. Love you, Mom!"

"I love you too! Bye!"

Izuku ends the call, falling backwards into the comfort of the nurse's office's bed. For a moment, he'd forgotten all his problems, but now they've returned to assault his psyche with even greater force. But his father is safe, and at the end of the day, that's worth the memory problems, and the traumatic episode, and he absolutely refuses to think about the prison break. So it's fine. He's fine.

Still, despite his best efforts, he can't fall asleep.

He slips on his new, slightly overlarge yellow shoes, and writes a quick note for Recovery Girl.

Couldn't sleep. Went back to dorm. Thank you for the help!

He hopes it's enough, because he's way too out of it to write anything even slightly more elaborate.

On the walk back to his dorm, his head is swimming so much that he can barely piece two thoughts together. So he doesn't. It's much easier to just hum Trois mouvements de Petrouchka.

He decides that when he gets back to his room, he's definitely going to play the piano. And he isn’t going to think about the implications of it at all.

Chapter Text

Izuku opens his eyes. For a moment, nothing is visible save an ever shifting patchwork of inky black, broken only by an occasional blip of cobalt or violet.

Then, one by one, snippets of the darkness begin to coalesce, forming first silhouettes, then, fully manifest figures. Predictably, a number of the outlines remain just as shrouded in shadow as they have been in the past, and All Might’s figure is predictably incomplete, though he does note a few new visitors.

Izuku can't help but be a bit intimidated by the previous holders of ofa, even if he does possess some of their arguably more humanizing memories, and the cold, vast expanse of his dreamscape isn't really doing much to alleviate his anxiety. He tries his best to stand up straight, though he isn't really able to feel his legs.

"Hello again, Midoriya." Nana's expression is serious, but there's something sympathetic in it too. Almost pitying. "I'm sorry that we've been forced to meet on such unfortunate terms, but it seems as though this quirk of ours still has a few secrets to uncover."

Izuku tries to respond vocally, but instead manages to earn himself a quick reminder of his mouth's current nebulous state. As soon as he catches the mistake, he nods, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, in his rush to respond.

"I'm sure you're wondering what has caused your recent… lapses in memory," The First comments. "I can't say that we haven't been asking ourselves the same questions. Unfortunately, we're just as unfamiliar with this phenomenon as you are. It seems that your psysiology's expression of One For All is unique in more ways than we'd anticipated."

Izuku feels a sharp pang of panic at that. If not even the first knows why he's experiencing the vestiges' memories, then what hope does he have of dispelling them?

"Don't worry though kid, we've got some theories." Banjou assures in as gentle a manner as he's capable, leading Izuku to conclude that he must look about as anxious as he feels. "Though I can't really promise that you'll like 'em all that much."

"Banjou," one of the new figures, a man with dual scars and piercing eyes, scolds. "Don't talk like that, you'll only make him more anxious."

"What, I'm just bein' honest, Shinomori!" The fifth user raises his hands defensively. "They're not exactly encouraging!"

The other man, Shinomori, shakes his head in response, though he doesn't look particularly surprised, just disappointed.

"I'm sure you've studied a number of conflicting theories regarding quirks in the past. Considering your… zeal for quirk research, as well as society's considerable fixation, I believe it would honestly be more difficult for you to be uneducated than well-read." The First interjects, and although Izuku can tell he's trying to come across as casual, his gaze is still fairly intense. "Am I right?"

Izuku nods.

"Some state that quirks are biological manifestations, purely physical, while others argue that they exist on another, more spiritual plane. Those who believe in the latter typically connect quirks to identity in some way. Most typically preach that quirks either determine the personality and temperament of their users, or the other way around. But it's very possible that, instead of being linked to personality, quirks may instead bear a link to the very foundation of identity itself: memory.

"A person's experiences are the most influential factor in determining one's behavior save genetics, and even then, psychologists still argue as to which holds more sway. If quirks truly do store some part of the soul as our presences here would suggest, then it doesn't seem all that unlikely that they might be intrinsically linked with memory as well, our very sources of self. If you begin to develop the quirks we held, then what's to stop such a connection from carrying over across generations? If you wield the quirks that stored our experiences, then it isn't all too farfetched to assume that you would have to recall those experiences yourself."

"That's just First's theory though," The second unknown holder states. Izuku can barely make out his face beneath the voluminous collar of his coat, but even so, he can tell that the man has something of a flat affect. "Shimura has one as well."

"Right, thank you, En." Nana sighs, and the sound is almost painfully drawn. 

There's still that vaguely pitying aspect to her expression, and it lays itself over Izuku like a shroud. He knows, almost instinctively, that her explanation will offer no more promise of reprieve than the First's.

"It's a distinction without a difference, really, but I'll share it all the same. It’s also possible that the inverse is true, and One For All has evolved in some way to pass on more than just its users’ quirks in its trek towards singularity. If my theory holds true, then it’s likely that you might even find yourself altering in more respects than memory alone. My apologies for the grim diagnosis. I know that hearing this can’t be easy for you, but it’s important that we prepare for the worst eventuality, should it come to pass.”

Izuku bows his head. If he’s interpreted Nana’s statement correctly, and he’s fairly certain that he has, then things are even more dire than he first believed. It’s almost too surreal. This is his identity they’re discussing, the culmination of every experience he’s ever lived, every relationship he’s taken such careful steps to form, and yet none of the vestiges can offer him more than a regretful tilt of the chin as they muse over the possibility of it being erased indefinitely.

Something must show in his eyes, because the man Izuku now knows as Shinomori is inexplicably prompted to offer up a slightly more optimistic take on the issue at hand.

“While we aren’t certain yet, we believe we may be capable of stymying the onset of these new memories to some degree. If it is possible, then this situation could actually turn out quite favorably for all involved. While we trained for years to perfect the techniques that augmented our quirks’ effectiveness, you may be capable of developing the same mastery in a matter of days via osmosis. 

“And even if regulation is proven to be impossible, we’re still not certain how extensive this condition truly is. It’s still completely possible that you may only receive a few new memories here and there, and otherwise remain completely unaffected. While I’ll admit that such an outcome isn’t exactly ideal, it’s still far more promising than it could be. And no matter the eventual outcome, you’ll doubtlessly receive the benefits of our experience in some form or another.”

Izuku wants that to be an encouraging notion. He really does. But no matter how much he tells himself that his ability to perform in combat is the most important factor, the final aim of obtaining One For all, he can’t convince himself that the ability to effectively fight All For One is worth the complete annihilation of his identity. The thought makes him feel horribly selfish.

“As for the matter of my brother,” The First begins. “I can’t offer any advice more constructive than Yagi’s. Remain at school and focus on your studies. If he tries to pursue you, you’ll be safest there. I know it might be difficult to conceal the truth of One For All considering your current condition, but it’s more important now than ever that you work to maintain your silence. 

“If at any point you fail to present a convincing front and feel the need to attribute your symptoms to something unrelated, don’t hesitate. It’s unlikely that anyone would be capable of linking your current state back to One For All, and no one is going to judge you if you need some help adjusting, especially considering the sort of memories some of us harbor.”

Izuku nods once more, but this time, he tries to imbue the gesture with as much conviction as he can manage. The vestiges don’t think he can handle this, and that just won’t do. He has to show them that he can deal with this issue and come out the other end stronger, because otherwise, he isn’t worth it. One For All, the trust of its holders, his place at UA… and he has to be. There’s simply no alternative. So he can put on a brave face. And maybe if it wears it long enough, eventually it’ll start to feel real.

“Thank you for your understanding. I’m aware that this is a lot of responsibility to place on someone so young, but unfortunately, it doesn’t seem as though we have much choice at the moment.”

The First’s figure begins to flicker and fade around the edges, its permanency dissipating along with the world around it.

“It seems that we’re out of time to speak, at least for this visit. Please remember what we’ve told you, especially in regards to remaining at UA.”

Izuku isn’t sure why The First would single out that particular piece of advice, but unfortunately, he isn’t really given the time to consider it. Somewhere far away, his alarm is blaring, and it seems he doesn’t have any choice but to answer it.

As soon Izuku disappears, Nana turns to face The First, her mein just as melancholy as it had been for the duration of their discussion with the ninth successor. Each of the other vestiges have already departed into the state of nonexistence that she most closely associates with the sensation of sleep, but upon meeting her gaze, his silhouette solidifies, signaling his willingness to remain.

“You didn’t tell him.”

“Would you have, in my position? We were already harsh enough with him considering the circumstances, Why not let him believe at least something is going right for the time being? I’d think you of all people would agree he deserves a bit of happiness, no matter how temporary.”

Nana frowns. “And what if your little act of goodwill backfires? If he ends up hurt because you’ve left him uninformed? Yagi has made similar choices to this in the past, and you know as well as I do that they’ve never had the intended result.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s safe as long as he stays at school, and he’s always had good intuition. Besides, If he does end up meeting my brother sooner than anticipated, my memories will be triggered, won’t they? At least that’s what yesterday would suggest. There’s really no point in me taking the initiative when One For All is sure to do the work for me, eventually.”

“Ah yes, because that won’t be startling at all, will it? I’m right, and you know I am. You just don’t want to be the one to break it to him. You’re worried he’ll resent you, aren’t you?”

He sighs. “Maybe so. But can you blame me? By way of family, well… he’s really all I have left. And to have this opportunity to form a relationship with him, even in death, as it is… you can understand why I don’t want to ruin things.”

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, of course I can. I’d die all over again for even a minute with Tenko. But aren’t you worried that One For All might ruin the opportunity for you, maybe before your brother even gets the chance?”

“Well, put simply, yes. I’m terrified. But if I hadn’t acted as confidently as I had, it would’ve only made matters worse. I’d like to think that we’ll be able to stop this, whatever it is, but in truth, I have no idea. Every time I think I’ve begun to fully understand the intricacies of this quirk, it somehow finds a way to throw me for another loop.”

“It was odd, hearing him speak through my experience, and in front of Yagi, no less. I could tell he was upset. My successor always has been the sentimental type.”

“Not unlike you. I do agree that seeing someone else act based on your past is jarring. Even so, it was wonderful hearing the piano again. I’d almost forgotten how much I loved to play. I’d like to believe that something good could come out of all this, even if it is as insignificant as a new hobby. Hopefully he comes to enjoy the skill as much as I did.”

“If it’s any consolation, I think he already has. I’m not certain he has a choice.” Nana’s eyes narrow. “Midoriya may not have control over all of his actions right now, but you do. Make sure you tell him.”

With that last command given, Nana disappears.

Izuku startles awake in bed, jolting up off his pillow. His pulse is quick, as it always is after a visit to the dreamscape that hosts One For All, and after he clicks off his alarm, he takes a few minutes to slow his breathing before getting dressed.

It’s Monday, so he has work. That means putting on his costume, with all its accessories and their accompanying steps, and he’s happy for the routine to take his mind off more dire matters. He doesn’t want to think about One For All, especially not after his more than slightly concerning meeting with the vestiges, and it's easy to numb his mind when he’s busy with a menial task.

The evening before, when he’d returned back to the dorm, no one he’d passed in the common room had brought up the confusing infodump that had followed his miniature piano recital, an occurrence for which he was infinitely grateful. He’d later found out, when asking Momo once more for temporary possession of her keyboard, that Katsuki had explained everything for him.

Izuku had been shocked, not just by the kindness shown by his friend’s gesture, but by his cover story as well. Once Momo had apologized profusely to him for what she deemed the class’s earlier insensitivity, he’d pressed until she’d decided to elaborate.

Apparently, he had very painful memories tied with his childhood illnesses, which had allegedly led to the flashback that constituted his lengthy trip to the nurse’s office. As unlikely as the story is, it does seem to prevent Izuku’s peers from questioning his lapse in memory, and for that, he can’t help but be grateful.

After showering, Izuku had thrown himself once more into practicing piano, an exercise which had proven just as engrossing as he’d initially expected. He knows quite a few songs, and the majority of them are incredibly fun to play.

Even now, as he dresses for the day, he can’t help but stare longingly across the room at Momo’s keyboard. He loves his career, but at the end of the day, it’s still work.

After Izuku finishes donning his gloves, he realizes, with a shock of confusion, that he’s been avoiding putting on his shoes. Typically, he laces them first following the application of his costume’s most basic layers, but it seems that for whatever reason, he’s been avoiding them.

As soon as he returns to his closet a second time to reach down for a pair, he remembers. 

They’re red . The same color as the stripes on the curtains he took down, and the accents on the posters he covered up, and the border of the rug he turned over, and the lines on the bedding he inverted.

Izuku slams the door shut as quickly as he can and turns, closing his eyes as tightly as he can. Recovery Girl told him it might help to focus on his immediate surroundings, so he does, honing in on the feeling of wood flooring beneath his feet and the low hum of the building's AC in his ears.

His casual shoes are gone, yes, but the ones that he wears for his costume, adjusted to suit shoot style, are still very much there. And, he realizes with a gulp, his belt is the same color.

Will it matter if he omits them from his outfit for one day? There's the topic of branding of course, but that's never really mattered so much to him, and besides, he should just be patrolling today, which really isn't ever too intensive. He'll be fine.

But there's still the matter of his new shoes being just a tad too big. After a moment's consideration, Izuku wads up a few tissues from the pack he keeps stored away for Springtime allergies and shoves them into the toes of either shoe.

It takes some adjustment, but after a few seconds of fussing, both are fixed and ready for wear.

Izuku silently adds new shoes to his mental shopping list right under portable keyboard and memory journal. He shouldn't have any issues paying for them considering his salary. Maybe he'll even be able to find some sneakers in the same style as his old ones. He'd like that.

Almost immediately after opening the door to his dorm room, Izuku is met with the disbelieving double-take of Tokoyami Fumikage. With an overwhelming wave of embarrassment, Izuku realizes that his friend is wearing his school uniform. 

Just like Izuku should be. Because he doesn't have a job. He's a highschooler .

"Midoriya, are you-"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm- I'm a bit out of it this morning. I… I'm going to go get dressed again." Izuku points awkwardly back inside his dorm room with both hands. His face feels hotter than an active stove. "Um… sorry."

As soon as he slams his door shut, he leans against it, slowly sinking to the floor. Of course the memories haven't stopped. Why did he ever think they would?

It takes him a few minutes to muster the energy to get up. And then, as he's getting dressed, he realizes that he really doesn't want to wear his tie. After a few more minutes of debate, he decides to omit it. Maybe, he thinks, Aizawa won't notice.

By the time he's finished, he checks his clock and realizes that he's fifteen minutes late to leave.

After the initial panic, Izuku manages to force himself out the door, maintaining a mixture of speed walking and light jogging as he careens off to class. The first bell rings before he even reaches the main building.

He's out of breath and more than a little disheveled when he finally bursts, unceremoniously, into the classroom, and he isn't honestly sure if it's his appearance or tardiness that earns him one of the most scathing looks he's ever seen Aizawa deliver outside of combat.

"I'm glad you've finally decided to join us," Aizawa states, though his expression would suggest exactly the opposite. "And I see you're out of uniform."

"I-"

"Sit down, Midoriya. I don't want you holding up class any longer than you already have."

Izuku is absolutely mortified. He's never been late to class before, not without a pass. All his classmates are already in their seats, and he hangs his head as he walks through the unendurably silent aisles of desks to join them. Everyone is staring.

After the initial embarrassment of his late entrance wears off, Izuku begins to fall into the pattern of a regular school day. Except something's just a bit off.

It seems that every curriculum for the day is focused around review rather than the introduction of new material, and unfortunately, Izuku is still far too tired from the events of the day prior to pay due attention to his classes' redundant lectures. He feels himself nodding off on multiple occasions, though luckily enough, the habit manages to go unnoticed for the entirety of periods one through three.

Then, during fourth period, Izuku falls asleep directly from a sitting position, head slamming against his desk with a thwack loud enough to, once again, gravitate the entire room's eyes towards him. He tries to recover, sitting up as rigidly as possible in his chair to compensate for his earlier posture, but Midnight has already noticed his lapse in attention, and despite the ever present playful expression that serves as her trademark, he can tell that she isn't happy.

"Midoriya, are you falling asleep in class? That's funny, I don't recall activating my quirk. Am I experiencing amnesia, or is this material just too dull for your liking?"

A few snickers emanate from around the class, and if Izuku had to venture a guess, he'd pin them on Denki, Hanta, and Mineta. He knows they aren't mean-spirited, not really, but even so, he can't help but feel a tad indignant.

"No, I just don't particularly understand why we're covering it."

Midnight raises an eyebrow. "While I'm aware that World History might not be quite as relevant to your future careers as law or heroics, it's still an integral part of this school's core curriculum."

"That isn't what I meant." Izuku frowns. "It's just that I don't understand the purpose of listening to a lecture that only covers material I already know."

This time, instead of poorly concealed snickers, Izuku receives more than a few shocked glances. Is he being unusually blunt? No, that can't be it. He's always communicated like this.

From the seat one row in front of him, Katsuki turns and gives him a wide eyed stare, pointedly swiping a thumb across his throat. Why would Katsuki, of all people, want to stop him from pointing out the repetitive nature of the day's lectures?

And then it hits him.

"Uh, actually-"

"Fine then, Midoriya. I'm sure you wouldn't mind staying over lunch to complete this unit's exam, considering that you already know the material well enough to use my class period as your own personal nap time. Hopefully you can endure a few more minutes of utter boredom before the bell rings."

"Ah- okay, sorry."

After that, Izuku shuts up. He sinks down into his seat, as low as he can, trying in vain to ward off the utterly baffled glances of his peers. He can guess what they're thinking. That he's an arrogant ass. That he's a complete moron. That he's going to fail an entire unit of world history. 

He wants to curl up in a fetal position and die, but unfortunately, he can't, because in about thirty minutes or so, he has an exam to take.

When class finally ends after what feels like a decade, Midnight gestures for Izuku to join her at the teacher's desk. Some of his classmates linger, glancing back at him before heading off to lunch, but a wave of the hand from Midnight sends them scattering without a word.

"You know the drill. Put your phone on the desk and head back to your seat. All questions are open answer, and both pencil and pen are acceptable when it comes to filling out your test copy. Raise your hand when you're finished."

Izuku nods, taking the test materials and returning to his seat. He isn't too optimistic concerning his odds, because really, how well can you perform on a memory-based exam when the majority of your memories regarding said topic are at least over a decade old?

Apparently, the answer, as it turns out, is pretty damn well.

Izuku breezes through the exam without much difficulty, and he's absolutely certain that every answer he jots down is correct. When he raises his hand, Midnight's eyes go almost concerningly wide.

She walks over beside him, plucking up the completed test from his desk without a word. After fingering through each page and reading several answers twice over, she eventually places the stapled stack of paper back down, emblazoning the upper righthand corner with a red inked 100%.

"Geeze kid, you really weren't lying. You know your stuff, and more besides. Some of these answers contain information I wasn't even going to cover in class."

She sighs, giving Izuku a quick once over.

"I was going to pardon you after this, you know. Erase whatever grade you got and revise the exam to give you a second chance. I just thought scaring you a bit might teach you not to speak out in class. We just started this unit, and now that you've got a good grade and earned it, I have no idea what you're expected to do for the next few weeks. Any ideas?"

Izuku shrugs awkwardly. He's been wondering the same thing himself.

"Yeah, I figured." She scowls, though Izuku can tell that the gesture is more an expression of general annoyance than anger. "How the heck did you know all this stuff anyhow? It certainly wouldn’t have been covered by your middle school, that's for damn sure."

"Uh, I'm a history buff?" Izuku ventures, though his answer doesn't seem to be enough for Midnight.

"Really? But only for this unit, huh? Sure." She shakes her head. "If I hadn't been watching you this whole time, I'd probably say you cheated."

Izuku's frown deepens. Did he cheat? Does drawing from the memories of an alumni via a latent stockpile quirk count as cheating? He isn't really sure.

"Go to lunch, Midoriya. You've still got a good fifteen minutes. Maybe that's long enough to finish off a plate."

Izuku nods gratefully and scurries out of the classroom as quickly as he can, not even glancing back over his shoulder as he passes the threshold. Even though he knows that his memories are entirely outside of his control, he can't help but feel a little bit guilty.

Ochako and Iida jump out of their seats the moment he enters the cafeteria, speed walking over to its entrance with trademark Tenya gusto. Shoto follows after them at a considerably lazier pace, but the expression on his face is equally concerned.

Ochako is the first to reach him, and she clasps both of his hands in her own before he even has the time to protest, gazing up into his eyes with startling intensity. The proximity makes Izuku more than a little uncomfortable.

"Oh my gosh, Deku, are you okay? You were really freaking us out there for a minute, picking a fight with a teacher like that! Did you hit your head on the way to class? Is that why you were late? Because you're concussed?"

"No, I just put on the wrong outfit this morning. Tokoyami can vouch for me on that one. And for the record, I wasn't picking a fight, I just… had a temporary lapse in judgement."

Ochako tilts her head quizzically, but she doesn't directly challenge Izuku’s assertion, so he has to at least be grateful for that. Though he really does wish she would back up a bit.

"Your behavior was certainly unbecoming of a student of UA, but considering your past conduct, I'll have to forgive this small exception." Iida asserts, placing a firm hand on Izuku’s shoulder. He flinches, but no one seems to notice. "More importantly, how did you perform on your exam? I trust you passed?"

Izuku isn't sure how to respond. If he tells the truth, will his classmates think he's bragging? Or even worse, lying? But if he does actually lie, then the truth will come out eventually anyways. He supposes honesty is probably the best way to go.

"Um, yeah, I got a perfect score, I guess." He feels his face flush as his friends' jaws drop in shock.

Shoto, who has just reached the group, grins. "Really? Nice. Good job, Midoriya."

"Wow!" Ochako exclaims. "I mean, I knew you were super smart, obviously, but… just wow! This is one of our densest units, I'm already struggling, and we haven't even gotten halfway through yet!"

“Truly, Midoriya is an impressive student," Iida agrees with an exaggerated nod. "Perhaps he could help the three of us study sometime in the near future.”

“Uh, yeah, sounds good, but… could you two please back off a little? Or, like, a lot?” 

Izuku doesn’t mean to sound rude, but he can’t help but let a bit of defensive resentment leak into his voice. He absolutely hates having his personal space invaded. Shouldn’t two of his closest friends know that by now?

And besides that, he’s had to focus so intently on not looking at his classmates’ ties that he can't help but be a little irritable. Every so often, he glances at one out of the corner of his eyes, and well… it isn’t their fault, he supposes, but that doesn’t stop him from growing just that much more anxious.

“Oh, uh, sorry!” Ochako throws her hands up apologetically, taking a few lengthy steps back. Iida follows her lead. “I wasn’t trying to be rude or anything, I was just really concerned!”

Her voice is so fervently contrite that Izuku immediately regrets his tone. This time, he tries to imbue his voice with less venom and more sympathy. “It’s fine, but please don’t do it again if you can. I really don’t like being touched, remember?”

Ochako shares a wordless glance, first with Iida, then with Shoto. Her eyebrows are tilted downward ever so slightly, and Izuku gets the impression that, for whatever reason, she’s very concerned. By the time her eyes meet Izuku’s again, the corners of her mouth have become downturned as well.

“Don’t worry, Deku, we’ll respect your boundaries, but… are you sure nothing weird happened to you today? You’re acting just a bit… off.” Her voice is soft. Cautious. As if she’s speaking to a beaten dog.

Izuku knows he must’ve messed up again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep a lot last night. That's probably it.” He lies, and he’s happy to see her smile return to some degree, even if it is a bit crooked.

Shoto nods, his own expression as unreadable as ever. “Happens to the best of us.”

“Certainly,” Iida agrees, without pause. "But even so, I'd suggest you consider visiting the nurse's office. Insomnia is no joke you know, and it can often be an indicator of more serious underlying issues."

Shoto and Ochako's heads bob up and down in consensus.

They’re obviously patronizing him. The condescension is practically written on their faces in bold print. And for some reason, be it his own or one of the vestige’s, it really doesn’t sit well with him.

“Thanks, yeah I'll consider it. But right now I need to talk with Kacchan,” he states, voice monotone. “I’ll see you guys back in class.”

As soon as he sees Izuku coming, Katsuki rises from his seat, uttering something to Ejiro, Mina, and Hanta before walking over to meet him. “In class, was that…?”

“Yeah, it was.” Izuku tilts his head in the direction of one of the cafeteria’s more secluded corners, and the two make their way over as quickly as they can.

“So, you can pull from All Might’s memories too, huh?” Katsuki asks as soon they’ve put a considerable distance between themselves and the rest of the UA student body.

“Yes, that’d be my guess. I don’t think any of the other holders attended UA, and the material felt way too familiar to come from another school’s preestablished curriculum.”

“Well, that’s pretty fucking unfair,” Katsuki grunts. “We all have to memorize shit until our eyes bleed, and you get constant reference to an infallible mental cheat sheet from one of UA’s valedictorians? How’re we supposed to compete with that?”

That makes Izuku’s blood boil, more than just a bit. “Look, I didn’t ask for any of this. You were there when All Might quizzed me. This condition is way more than just an easy fast track to graduation, Kacchan, I’m literally losing my identity at the hands of something I can’t even detect. I thought you understood; I can’t trust anything anymore, not my own thoughts, or my past experiences, or my preferences, because there’s the apparently very likely chance that none of them are actually mine!

“I spoke with the vestiges last night, and guess what? There’s no solution! Not an immediate one anyways, and by the time that they figure one out, assuming that they ever do, I have absolutely no idea how much of me will be left. I just made Uraraka and Iida feel so alienated that they thought I’d gotten myself a concussion, and I still have absolutely no idea what aspect of my behavior tipped them off! But if I can’t handle this… if I can’t handle this… no, that isn’t an option. I can handle this, I just…”

Izuku feels tears forming in his eyes. He didn’t mean for his rant to spiral this far out of control, he’d just wanted to vent, and then…

“I’m sorry, Kacchan. I know you probably didn’t think before you spoke, and I know that it’s unfair that I have a leg up like this, even if it does come with a harsh penalty. I know I shouldn’t be this terrified, heroes aren’t supposed to show any fear, and they sure as Hell aren’t supposed to be a burden on others. But I just… I just don’t want to be erased.”

When Izuku meets Katsuki’s dry eyes with his blurry ones, he begins to feel even worse, because there's that stupid concern again, and he thinks that maybe, if one more person worries about him today, he might just have to admit to himself how incurably wrong all of this really is.

"You're right," Katsuki concedes. "I wasn't thinking. This seriously isn't the time for me to be competitive, I know that."

That admittance, so close to an apology, is uncharacteristic enough that, for a moment, Izuku almost wonders if he's the only one with messed up memories.

"The bell is going to ring soon." Izuku sighs, wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "We should head back to class."

Katsuki nods, but instead of speeding ahead as expected, waits for Izuku to finish collecting himself before walking alongside him.

"That episode seemed pretty rough yesterday. Have you been okay?"

"Yeah. I mean I'm trying really hard to avoid any potential triggers, and it seems to be working, mostly. Thanks for the concern."

"No problem. I'd have to be a pretty shitty person not to ask, wouldn't I?"

There's a joke in there somewhere, but Izuku isn't really interested in pursuing it.

“So, you like the sneakers?”

Izuku nods. “They’re great. I’d probably never take them off, if they, y’know, actually fit.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Katsuki retorts. “You’re just lucky there were any shoes in the lost and found bin at all, ungrateful ass. I should’a given you some of Kiri’s crocs. Those probably would’ve fit better. Maybe he still has a pair I can borrow, if you wanna keep complaining.”

“That wasn’t supposed to be a complaint,” Izuku sighs. “But just for the record, if something like this ever happens again somehow, please don’t leave crocs as my only footwear option.”

“Sure, whatever. It was All Might's idea to switch your shoes out anyways.” Katsuki shrugs. “It’s funny, I thought I was the only one who ever noticed your stupid old sneakers, but apparently, everyone else did too. Some people asked me why you’d changed shoes, like I’m your fucking keeper or something. I’m just saying, you might wanna come up with an excuse for that.”

Izuku goes quiet. There’s another way he’s messed up. One more thing for people to notice, to question, to scrutinize. And another way he’s already strayed further from himself.

"Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Go ahead."

"You know how I said I can't really trust myself right now? Well, uh, I'd like to think I can trust you. I mean you've always had a great memory, and… do you think you could put together a timeline for me? So I can reference it, y’know, when things get… confusing. It wouldn't have to be too complicated, just the important events, and maybe some preferences too, if you're willing. I mean, I completely understand if you don't have the time though, and you shouldn't feel in any way obli-"

"Digital, or physical?"

"Either is fine! Whatever's most convenient for you!" Izuku answers, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

He didn't expect a yes, especially considering that he would've completely understood had Katsuki declined his request. He's busy after all, and Izuku asking him for what essentially amounts to a scrapbook, of all things, really doesn't seem to be the kind of thing he'd react well to.

"I'll make it physical. You do love your geeky notebooks."

Izuku isn’t really sure how the two things correlate, but considering the fact that Katsuki is already doing him a favor as it is, he doesn't really feel inclined to split hairs.

"Thank you, Kacchan. Don't feel any rush either, it's okay if it takes some time to put together."

"Yeah, I don't half-ass shit, so it might be a bit before you see it. It'll definitely be  premium fucking quality though, so you'd better be grateful."

Izuku can't help but grin. Katsuki may not like showing it, but he really does care. "I know. I wouldn't expect anything less."

The remainder of the day passes much the same, though in his later classes, Izuku is careful to at least appear as though he's paying attention. After a while, he begins to find mentally finishing his teachers' sentences for them somewhat entertaining, and the more interactive classes like Math and English are engaging enough if only because he can actually vocalize the answers he innately knows.

Although it's only a small consolation for the day's prominent lows, Izuku is still glad to have gotten something out of the last eight hours. Or rather he has to be. Optimism is key.

When Izuku gets back to his dorm, the first thing he does is throw himself down, face first, onto his bed. The second thing he does is reach into his pocket for his phone. Unfortunately, the search comes up empty.

"What the-"

He checks his bedside table, then its drawers, and finally, his-

"Shit." Izuku normally tries not to curse, but today has been long and stressful, and honestly, maybe he deserves a swear or two. "Of course I forgot I had a backpack. Why wouldn't I? It's not like I carry it around with me every day or anything."

A little part of him whispers back that no, of course he doesn't carry around a backpack everyday, he has a job, and heroes don't need backpacks. He orders that part of himself to politely shut the fuck up.

The walk back to classroom 1A feels much longer than it actually is, especially because Izuku has to wait for each hallway and subsequent room of the dorm building to clear out before he passes through. He's not in the mood to explain himself, not even moderately. Sneaking around and hiding behind pillars is fun, until it isn't. And it turns out that it isn't after about thirty seconds.

By the time Izuku finds himself standing in front of the classroom door, he's about ready to toss his backpack off the edge of a balcony, but luckily, he's denied the chance.

Because as soon as he puts his hand on the door, he hears his name uttered on the other side. He knows it isn't polite to eavesdrop. But whoever it is is talking about him, which he supposes must count for something.

"-covery Girl said that he had a panic attack yesterday, though she isn't sure of the cause. She told me to just let it go, but I dunno, Shota. I'm kinda worried about the kid."

That voice is Midnight's, Izuku is sure of it. And if she's talking to Aizawa about him, well… that isn't great.

"Of course it would have to be Midoriya, wouldn't it?" Aizawa sighs, and it sounds as if he's talking to himself more than Midnight. "Yes, I certainly agree that he was acting odd. But it's my duty as his homeroom teacher to address it, not yours."

"Oh yes, god forbid I show any concern! I forgot how overprotective you were of your students, Shota. It's kind of sweet, actually. Yamada is right, you really do have a soft side, don't you?"

Aizawa groans audibly. "Not this again. Obviously you aren't that concerned or you wouldn't spend the time you could be using to address the situation mocking me."

"Say what you like, you know I'm right." Izuku can tell based on Midnight's tone of voice that she's most definitely smirking. "But either way, what are you going to do about Midoriya? You are doing something, aren't you?"

"I suppose I'll talk to him," Aizawa responds. "Not that it's any of your business. It's only been a day, that's no cause for alarm. If the behavior persists, I'll see about involving his family, but until then, it's best to assume that Recovery Girl has the issue under control."

"Alright, as long as you're checking up on him, I guess I can't complain. It's just… well, I can't really pin it down, but even without the whole test thing, he just seemed weird."

"Yes, as you've mentioned. Now if you wouldn't mind, I have papers to grade."

"Fine, I'll get out of your hair. Believe it or not, I'm a busy woman; I have work to get done too."

Izuku startles as he hears approaching footsteps through the door. With the most speed he can muster, he dashes back the way he came, turning on his heel as he hears the telltale swish of hinges.

As casually as he can, Izuku begins to walk back towards the door, face bearing an expression of serene indifference.

"Oh, speak of the devil!" Midnight exclaims, stepping out of the classroom. "It seems you have a visitor, Shota!"

She holds the door open for him as he passes, and he dips his head in gratitude.

"Good luck, kid." she stage-whispers, conspiratorially shielding her mouth with one hand. "He's just as grouchy as ever."

"I told you you were dismissed, didn't I?" Aizawa sounds irritable, but Izuku can recognize a bit of banter between good friends when he hears it.

"Yes, and I was just leaving."

Izuku tries to make a quick break for his backpack, but finds that Aizawa has already collected it on his desk.

"Pull up a chair, Problem Child. If you want this back, you and I are going to need to talk first."

Izuku hesitantly complies.

"What did I do?" He asks, though he already knows the answer. "Is this about me being late to class?"

"Partially. I've had a few of your classmates speak to me regarding what they perceive as odd behavior, your late arrival to class and failure to meet dress code regulations were obvious irregularities, and come to find out, you talked back in one class today, and nearly fell asleep in several others. 

"While I wouldn't usually approach you about this so early on, it seems that you have quite a few people in your corner advocating that I take action in some form or another. Considering that self-sacrificial nature of yours, I doubt you'll come clean even if something really is bothering you, but I feel inclined to ask all the same."

Izuku isn't quite sure how to respond to that.

"I'm grateful for everyone's concern, I really am, but I'm fine, seriously. I mean, I'm just really tired, that's all."

Aizawa arches an eyebrow. "Did something happen during your home visitation period?"

"What? No. Why would you ask that?"

Somehow, Aizawa does not look convinced. "It would make sense based on the timetable is all. Are you sure that nothing negatively impactful is happening in your school or family life right now? No big changes?"

Izuku frowns. He desperately wants this conversation to be over. While he knows that it's technically a teacher's job, at least on some level, to look after their students' health, he really wishes that people would stop sticking their noses in his business.

Aside from the matter of privacy, he definitely doesn't want to think that he's the reason the people he cares about are stressing, though obviously, at this point, it really isn't something he can control. Somehow, that just makes it all the more frustrating.

"A few completely unrelated things are going on, yeah." He doesn't mean to come across as short, but by this point, he's more than a little done with today. He hardly has the patience to keep the bite from his voice. "But they really aren't worth mentioning, because like I said, I'm just tired. There isn't anything deeper to look into. Maybe you should spread the information around, because no matter how many times I say it, no one seems to get the memo."

Aizawa looks as taken aback as Izuku’s ever seen him, and he suddenly realizes what must've thrown his friends off earlier, both in class and in the cafeteria. Maybe he really isn't usually this straightforward or short tempered, even allowing for the extra anxiety caused by stressful situations. And what he just said was fairly impolite.

"I'm sorry, that was really rude of me, I don't know what I was-"

Aizawa wordlessly slides Izuku’s backpack across the desk. His expression has altered from evident surprise to complete neutrality, though Izuku knows that that isn't necessarily a good thing.

"You're excused. Go get some rest, Midoriya."

All Izuku can do is nod. Now he knows his parents are going to hear about this, and he hates that they are, because they definitely do not need the stress.

“Thank you, and sorry again!”

This time, Izuku doesn't take the time to wait for rooms to vacate, instead rushing through with as standoffish an expression as possible to deter any possible comments or questions. It's suspicious behavior, sure, but it isn't like everyone he knows isn't already questioning his sanity anyways.

When he finally settles down, Izuku checks his phone. He fails to stifle a groan when he sees the sheer number of missed calls he's received.

After dismissing the notifications from his friends (it isn't that he wants to ignore them per se, but he really can't explain himself right now, and he knows that's what they're asking for), he's left with two that actually warrant immediate address. One from All Might, and one from his father.

Izuku wants to answer his father first. He really does. There's nothing he's wanted more than to speak with him for months now, to ensure that he's okay, to catch up on quirk analysis, to tell him all the things he's accomplished since they last spoke.

But he's also terrified of slipping up, of mentioning a memory that isn't his, of betraying the fact that he feels like his life is falling apart at the seams, no matter how overdramatic it might sound. 

His father has just finished recovering from a serious injury, the last thing he needs is another problem, especially in the form of his admittedly accident prone son.

Of course he doesn't want to inconvenience All Might either, but at the very least he already knows what's going on - not that that makes Izuku’s mental slip ups any less embarrassing, but it does make them less difficult to explain.

All Might picks up the call before the first tone can sound.

"Midoriya, my apologies for calling so soon after your classes have concluded for the day, but I wanted to check in with you regarding yesterday's events. Were you able to contact the former holders?"

Izuku silently recoils. "Yes, uh, but… they don't know what's going on either. They're trying to figure something out though. And they proba- definitely will, so, um, I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"Oh. I'm sorry, my boy, I-"

"No, don't apologize! It isn't a big deal, really!" Izuku can't stand the idea of even one more person worrying over him. Especially after he's already vented to Katsuki. “It’s fine.”

"Alright, if you insist… but even so, are you certain you’ve been doing alright? No recurrences of yesterday's episode?"

"No, I've been fine. I mean I have had a few confusing memories, and… well, some people are definitely starting to notice. But, y'know, on a personal scale, I think I've been holding up pretty well."

If you count a mental breakdown and several mood swings as doing well. Izuku would really like to, but even he can't fake that level of sheer naive optimism.

All Might is clearly at something of a loss for words. "Well, that's good. That you're doing well, I mean. Regarding others noticing your condition, well… I suppose that's unavoidable on some level. But if things begin to grow too dire, you shouldn't hesitate to ask for help, be it from Recovery Girl, young Bakugo, or myself. I can imagine that this affliction is a very difficult burden to shoulder alone, and I wouldn’t want you to feel as though you have to isolate yourself.”

“R-right,” Izuku responds. “I mean I’ve already talked to Bakugo about it a bit, so… yeah. I’ll do that. Oh- but while we’re on the topic of memories… I sort of need your advice on something. So, it seems like I might, um, kinda have some of your memories? Specifically your memories from your time studying at Yuuei? Everything in class today felt like review, and when I took an exam, I got a perfect score even though I never personally learned any of the material. If this keeps up… I just think that might be a bit suspicious, and, well, I’m not really sure what to do about it.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Izuku wonders how All Might must be feeling. He can’t imagine having someone else rooting around in his memories, even if that someone was a person he trusted. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn that his mentor is more than a bit perturbed.

“I might have to speak to Nezu regarding that. It’s possible that, if the issue persists, we may be able to see about altering your curriculum or moving you up a few years, but I’d like to wait before doing anything drastic.”

“Right. Right.” Izuku nods to himself. “This probably won’t last, so until it's over, I’ll just do my work like normal. Makes sense."

Izuku looks down at his feet. He's still wearing his new shoes.

"I need to talk to someone else, so I'll have to be going now, but thank you for checking in, I really appreciate it."

"It's no problem, kid. Be sure to update me if anything changes."

"I will. Bye."

Izuku ends the call. He hasn't stopped looking at his shoes.

Maybe his father won't mind if he texts instead, given he provides an adequate excuse. There's more control that way. More chances to make sure Izuku sounds like himself and not… well, anyone else.

It's worth a try, at least.

Me: Hey, sorry I can't call rn, I'm with some friends, but I can text if it's okay with you!

Dad: There's no need to apologize, I understand completely. In fact, I won't begrudge you any if you'd prefer to postpone this conversation to a later time. I would hate to distract you if you're preoccupied; you shouldn't feel any obligation to ignore your friends on my behalf.

Izuku can't help but grin. That's his father alright, formal and long-winded, even in text.

If he remembers correctly, those traits are ones his mother always cites when recalling anecdotes regarding his father, especially those pertaining to their first few times meeting.

They'd both had tickets to the same classical music concert (Izuku thinks it was a piano concerto, but he can't be certain considering the fact that the first’s memories are still situated firmly in his hippocampus), and by chance, had been seated next to each other in the mezzanine.

His mother had come with friends, though the fact that they themselves were just one outing away from dating had left her in the awkward position of unofficial third wheel. His father had arrived unaccompanied. 

According to his mother, both she and his father had stolen glances at each other more than once during the first movement. Aside from being fairly attractive (a declaration which had caused a younger Izuku to utter a disgusted multisyllabic moooommm! during the story's first telling), she always recalled finding him oddly mysterious in an intriguing sort of way.

That perception had changed, however, during intermission, when she'd decided to strike up a conversation. Apparently, Midoriya Hisashi, despite being otherwise erudite, eloquent, and polite, had been absolutely terrible at flirting.

He'd known quite a few facts about the pieces being played despite never having touched an instrument himself, and had talked about them, whilst blushing profusely, at length. At such length, his mother recounted, that she'd barely been able to get a word in edgewise. Hisashi should consider himself infinitely lucky, she'd often teased, that she'd found the whole thing to be delightfully endearing rather than horribly rude.

After the concert concluded, the two had exchanged numbers, and following three years and a considerable number of dates, there'd been a proposal. The rest was history.

The story makes Izuku smile, and not just because he's pretty sure he remembers it perfectly. It's nice to imagine a time when his parents weren't separated by an ocean and ten thousand kilometers, though soon, he supposes he won't have to imagine.

Me: No it's fine, we're just sitting in the common room, not hanging out or anything!

Dad: Common room?

It occurs to Izuku that if his mother hasn't told him, there's no way his father would know he now lives in UA's recently constructed dorms.

Me: Oh sorry! I'm staying in the UA dorms now, they were built for student safety after the Kamino incident, which was this big raid on a domestic terrorist association that ended pretty poorly. Did you hear about it overseas?

There's a long pause, and for a moment, Izuku is almost afraid that his father has found some reason to leave the conversation.

Dad: Yes, I'm afraid I did. That's certainly unfortunate. I expect you've been visiting your mother regularly regardless?

Me: Yep, I've taken advantage of every visitation day. I'd hate for mom to feel lonely, so I call her pretty often too.

Dad: I'm glad to hear it. Has anything especially interesting happened in my absence aside from large scale villain attacks?

Izuku’s grin widens. His father will be absolutely ecstatic when he hears about his son's new quirk. Or, well, the new facet of his current quirk, he should say. The analysis will definitely be fun.

But he isn't going to tell him quite yet.

There are a few other things he thinks he can talk about, but he has to check his camera roll first to confirm them.

There isn't anything to support him winning first prize in a national music competition, nor any videos of him being interviewed on international news after a huge villain takedown, so he assumes those two are fake.

There is, however, a picture of his provisional hero license along with a photo of him posing with Mirio outside of Night Eye's agency. There are some melancholy memories linked to the latter photo, so he figures it might be better to just mention the first.

Me: A few things have, but I'm waiting until we meet in person to talk to you about some of them. I can tell you that I got my provisional hero license tho!

Dad: That's wonderful, you have my sincere congratulations. Hopefully you'll be willing to recount events in more detail when we next speak.

Me: Definitely! But I totally forgot to ask, how are you doing? I heard you were involved in some kind of accident, was it bad? Did you make a full recovery? And what happened with work? When you disappeared, we were really worried, and mom couldn't find any info to help us locate you! Why was that? Oh, but don't feel like you have to answer if anything is difficult to talk about!

Izuku knows that perhaps he's asking a few too many questions for one text, but he's far too worried and curious to stop himself. 

Dad: I'm doing well, all things considered, and though I'm still receiving treatment, I am expected to make a full recovery. I was in proximity of a villain attack, and was injured by a reacting hero.

Me: That's terrible, but I'm glad you're okay! Heroes really aren't supposed to injure civilians, accidently or not! You would definitely have a case if you decided to sue.

Dad: It's alright, there weren’t any witnesses aside from the villain in question, so I'm sure any legal action I chose to pursue would prove more difficult than it's worth. Besides that, the hero left the scene almost immediately after, and I'm fairly certain he would deny involvement were I to press charges.

Izuku frowns. It's because he admires heroes so much that he absolutely can't stand when they abuse their power, especially in ways they're explicitly trained to avoid. He wonders what kind of hero would injure his father and leave without a second thought. Definitely not the kind he would ever support.

Me: That's even worse! I can't believe a hero would do that, we should really do something to at least make sure he isn't allowed to become a repeat offender. What was his name?

Izuku has already sat himself down in front of his laptop and filled the search bar with American hero by the time he sends the text. Maybe there isn't really anything he can do about what happened, but he at least wants to leave an anonymous tip with the proper authorities. No one should be able to get away with something like that.

Dad: It's fine, Izuku, really, though I'm grateful for the concern, I honestly don't think it matters much at this point. I need to attend to some business, but I'll be sure to speak with you again soon.

Izuku is a bit disappointed at that, but he's never been one to complain. If his father doesn't want to pursue the issue, he supposes there's really nothing else he can do.

Me: Okay, bye dad, I love you! I hope we can talk again soon!

It's only after Izuku has shut down his phone and begun to work on his mind-numbingly simplistic homework that he realizes something. His father never answered his final two questions.

He lets the thought go. His father would never hide anything from him, and even if he did, Izuku is sure it would be for his own good. He probably just forgot to answer, that was all.

Chapter Text

When Izuku wakes up in the morning, an unfamiliar tone blaring in his ears, he feels something immediately wrong with his surroundings. Even before he opens his eyes, he can tell that the give of the pillow beneath his head is just a tad more yielding than it should be, and the weight of the blanket covering his body is marginally heavier than what he’s accustomed to.

He pushes himself up as hastily as he can manage, surveying his surroundings. Everything around him is foreign and new, completely unlike the room he’s woken up in every morning for the past two years.

Has he been kidnapped? No, that can’t be. He isn’t restrained, and based on the room’s decor, it’s hardly a holding cell. Besides, danger sense definitely would’ve warned him if his current scenario had, at any point, posed a personal risk. It’s already hard enough to quiet it as it is, nevermind overnight abductions.

With a slow exhale, he relaxes his posture, scanning his line of sight for the source of the perennial beep that continues to assault his ears. Panicking is never productive, he knows that much from experience, and the unidentified noise is grating his nerves far too much to allow for proper investigation. His first priority should be dispatching it.

His gaze almost immediately settles on a small bedside table, climbing upwards to rest on the alarm that sits on its surface. Oddly enough, the device is topped with a neatly folded piece of notebook paper.

Plucking the paper up off the table, Izuku switches off the alarm, basking for a moment in the room’s newfound silence. His attention slips once more to the slip in his hands, which, following a quick unfolding, proves to be a note.

You don’t have work today, but you do have school. Put on your uniform, and be mindful of the first bell. You can’t be late again.

The script of the note is definitely written in his own handwriting, hasty and cramped, and a surge of recognition envelopes his mind.

He’s in school. In his dorm. This is where he’s supposed to be. Not hiding from All For One in some remote, nondescript location. Not training, day in and day out, to master a power he knows is slowly tearing him apart from the inside.

The realization is a relief, for a moment. And then, he begins to doubt himself.

He’s willing to accept that he’s a student certainly, and these dorms are definitely where he’s meant to have woken up. But what about not having work? Even though he knows he has school, he’s just as equally certain that he’s supposed to be patrolling today. And shouldn’t he really be training? What’s the use of school when he’s working with such a short time limit, when he has the potential of facing such an insurmountable enemy?

No. No.  

He shakes his head. He recalls yesterday, the difficulty with his uniform, the early exam, his friends’ concern, his call with All Might, writing the note that he now holds in his hands…

“You’re Midoriya Izuku,” He mutters to himself, imbuing his voice with as much conviction as he can muster. “You’re a first year student at Yuuei, you’re enrolled in class 1A, and you’re sixteen years old. You aren’t a hero yet, but you’re training to be one, and right now, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

He grins, though the gesture is admittedly a bit hollow. Izuku is sure that what he’s just said is the truth, so sure in fact, that his certainty somehow manages to quiet the conflicting memories fighting for purchase in his mind, leaving it clear and relatively calm.

As calm as it can be, considering the fact that he didn’t recognize his own dorm room. That’s a terrifying thought.

He needs to get dressed.

Everything goes off more or less without a hitch. Izuku finds that if he shuts his eyes as he reaches into his closet, and doesn’t look down as he binds it around his neck, it really isn’t so difficult to put on his tie. He can’t speak to the resulting appearance of the garment, as he’d really rather not examine it in the mirror, but it’s at least on, which he supposes is something.

He makes it to class with time to spare, rendered paranoid by the prior day's late arrival. A few of his classmates are early as well, and he's unsurprised when one walks over to speak with him.

"Hey, dude, I heard you were a bit under the weather yesterday, so I just wanted to do a quick check in." Ejiro's grin is so bright and warm that it's easy to return it. "How are you holding up this morning?"

"I'm fine. Much better than yesterday for sure." Izuku manages to keep his voice even throughout, but he can't stop thinking about his earlier slip in memory.

What if he hadn't reacted calmly to the perceived change in scenery caused by the vestiges' memories? What if he'd burst out of the room in his sleepwear? What if he'd seen one of his peers and forgotten, even for a minute, who they were? What if he hurt someone?

"Great, I'm glad to hear it!" Ejiro smiles full on, showing off a row of sharp, gleaming white teeth, and Izuku can tell the expression is genuine. "Cool shoes by the way, I think it's awesome that you're changing up your look a bit! Not that the old ones were bad, but y'know what I mean."

Izuku tries as hard as he can to maintain his smile. Why does everyone's sole mission seem to be reminding him of his condition?

"Thanks." He nods curtly. "I need to read over some stuff before class, but-"

"Oh yeah, no problem dude, I'll give you some space."

This day's set of classes proves just as dull as the last, making Izuku all the more grateful for the full night's rest he received. He doesn't fall asleep, and he's able to feign attention, to his best estimate, perfectly.

After some classes have come and gone, he begins to think that maybe he really does have his memory situation under control. It's entirely possible that the prior morning was an outlier after all, and despite the fact that he's been using the majority of his attention to scan his mind for conflicting events, he doesn't detect a single memory out of place.

By the time the class gathers outside for a training exercise, he's actually begun to feel a bit confident again. It's been almost a full school day with no public screw ups, and with any luck, he can keep it that way.

Aizawa has some sort of team challenge planned for the day, that much is evident from the presence of the two labeled and slitted boxes that sit before the crowd of eager students.

Aizawa stands at the front of the crowd, and behind him, there's a newly installed landscape, a wide and varied swatch of land about the size of two city blocks that contains what looks to be a myriad of natural terrains.

Izuku is constantly astounded both by the scope and budget of UA's heroics program, but he supposes that by this point, he really shouldn't be. The new arena is located directly astride the campus's uninhabited mock cities, after all.

"Today, you'll be separating into groups of five determined by a series of random drawings. Each group will face off against another in a single round of Capture the Flag. Many of you have likely heard of today's exercise in the past, but I'll explain for those who are unfamiliar.

"Both teams will be given a flag before the exercise begins. Prep time will be alloted to both groups so that they may best position their members in defense of their flag. The goal of the exercise is to steal the opposing team's flag without losing your own. The flag must be placed in one spot before the end of prep time and kept there for the remainder of the match until stolen. You may, however, use whatever methods you see fit to safeguard the objective, given that it isn't buried or covered, and no area within the designated terrain is off limits for placement."

Izuku watches his classmates' faces light up at the conclusion of Aizawa's instructional speech. Team exercises are popular among the students of class 1A, especially when they offer opportunity for stealth and strategy along with the expression of raw power.

Izuku himself is nearly vibrating with anticipation, the challenge posed by this particular exercise is especially exciting in that it will allow him equal opportunity to use each of his quirks. There are so many roles open to him no matter which team he's placed in, primary offense, diversion, mobility… thinking of all the possibilities makes his heart leap in his chest.

He's always loved throwing himself into a good competition, not to mention the rush of adrenaline that always accompanies a good fight. When Aizawa calls the class forward to draw lots, an expression of determined excitement has risen over his face.

The slip of paper Izuku draws displays the marker A2, and after a few seconds of shouting and raised hands, he's able to identify his teammates.

He's grouped with Toru, Mina, Kyoka, and Shoto, which all in all, seems to be a fairly auspicious lot. But then he learns that they're facing off against Momo, Fumikage, Tsuyu, Ejiro, and Denki, and suddenly, their luck isn't quite so apparent.

"Hm, those are some powerful quirks." Shoto remarks. "Two strong offensives, a formidable defense, a maneuverability, and a flawless utility. This definitely isn't going to be easy."

Mina nods in agreement, her shoulders drooping as she examines the opposing team. "Ugh, why'd it have to be Yaomomo? She's, like, the absolute queen of strategy!"

"Yeah, but don't forget we have Midoriya!" Toru responds, her gloves moving to gesture dramatically at Izuku. "He's super incredible too!"

Izuku tries, in vain, to hide an overwhelming blush. This makes several of the girls laugh, though they at least try to stifle it.

"Yeah, man, we'll be countin' on you." Kyoka lightly punches Izuku’s shoulder with a closed hand before offering it out in front of him for a fist-bump. He accepts the gesture.

"I'll, uh, try my best!" He manages to sputter, beaming, as confidently as he can, at his gathered teammates.

"Teams A1 and A2 will be competing first," Aizawa announces, quieting the din of conversing students. "Speakers are positioned throughout the area, and will alert both teams when prep time is up. Cameras have been installed for the sake of observation, and benched teams will be able to observe the active ones until either their turn arrives, or this period concludes. These matches are timed, so ties are possible, but not preferable. You may now head into the field."

Both teams set off into the arena, and it seems as though neither are looking to set up camp within radius of each other. After a good bit of distance has been made, Izuku’s group starts to discuss strategy.

"So, where do you think we should put it?" Mina asks. "Maybe we should go for somewhere in the woods. There's lots of good cover, and we could hide the flag in a tree."

"Yes, but…" Izuku shakes his head. "We're facing off against Tokoyami and Tsuyu. The tree cover would strengthen Dark Shadow, and the branches would help Tsu maneuvered much more quickly. Not to mention that it would be difficult to see approaching opponents, and Yaoyorozu has the ability to produce camo."

"Well, shit," Mina grumbles. "Hm… how about the mountains then?"

"We would have a visual advantage there," Shoto muses. "And the rocks provide a good hiding spot. Not to mention that Kaminari's electricity would have trouble traveling over rock and dirt. I think it's an excellent idea."

"All in favor, raise your hands." Kyoka commands, and the entire team complies. "Seems it's unanimous then."

As Izuku sets off towards the mountains, he gets a decent look at the rest of the arena. It seems the area contains four distinct environments: A large lake hosting several small islands, a vast swatch of temperate forest, a ring of barren desert, and the rocky mountains they're seconds away from mounting.

Luckily for them, the desert surrounds their chosen base for a considerable distance, meaning that they'll be able to clearly detect any approaching enemies. More unfortunately though, it means they have to constantly cover their tracks as they walk, or else risk leading the other team to their flag prematurely.

The group chooses the highest plateau they can find before setting up base, concealing their flag amid an outcropping of tall, irregular rock formations. It's wedged tightly between two boulders, but it's still visible, which technically fulfills Aizawa's requirement.

"Prep time's almost up." Shoto announces, giving the flag one last nudge before rising to face The group. "What's our plan?"

"Well, we're obviously sending Hagakure to scout, aren't we?" Jiro asks. "It'd be pretty stupid not to."

"Oooo, reconissience, my favorite!" Toru's gloves bob up and down in the air, their fingers curled into enthusiastic fists. "Ah- but how am I gonna report back to you guys? It'll take forever to get back to the mountain from the lake or the forest, and they're obviously not in the desert."

"Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you." Kyoka smirks, unclipping something from the previously concealed belt of her costume. "These babies are a new addition to my outfit, support just whipped 'em up a few days ago.”

In her hands, Kyoka holds four miniscule, black walkie-talkies. Each makes up one fourth of the compact oval that she originally removed from her belt, making for an easy to carry accessory with a good deal of utility.

“They’re small, but they work as well as most cellphones. If I plug into one, I can transfer my boosted heartbeat through the receivers of the others. That means that not only can we communicate, but you've got a weapon to use if you find yourself in a pinch."

"That's incredible!" Izuku can't help but interject. "This has to raise your cooperation rating significantly! It's a perfect support item for team-ups, not to mention the increased range it grants your attacks, and now, we’ll all be able to communicate regardless of distance. This gives us a huge leg up on the competition!"

"It really isn't that cool." Kyoka insists, twirling one of her earphone jacks between her fingers. She's very clearly blushing.

"Aw, don't be so humble, you're really helping me out here!" Toru giggles, plucking one of the communicators from Kyoka's hands. "And it's inconspicuous enough for me to keep hidden too! If we win, it'll totally be 'cause of you!"

This declaration only serves to make Kyoka's blush deepen, and she hangs her head as she hands another of the devices to Shoto. Mina takes the last, turning it over in her hands with evident curiosity.

“I’m gonna check out the forest first, it seems the most likely hiding spot based on Tokoyami’s quirk. I’ll check in with you guys for updates when I can. Plus ultra!”

With that, Toru slips off her gloves, dropping them to the dirt below. After a few seconds pass, the group is left to assume that she’s on her way to the woods.

"So, who's staying here to guard?" Mina asks, absentmindedly dusting off Toru’s gloves and setting them on a nearby rock.

"I think you and Todoroki might be best suited to that," Izuku offers. "The mountainside is pretty steep; we almost slipped a few times on the way up. Imagine if it were covered in ice or acid. The only ones who might still be able to make the climb are Tsuyu and Tokoyami, and at least one of them is likely to hang back with the flag. Besides, both of you can hold your own offensively against almost anyone on team A1, so if someone does manage to reach it, you'll have a good chance of dispatching them."

"Oh yeah!" Mina reaches out a hand to Shoto, which he promptly shakes. "Psyched to be working with ya pal, those guys won't know what hit 'em! We’ll totally snag this win!"

Shoto offers her a small grin. “Likewise. But let's not get cocky yet. Our opponents are very formidable.”

“Aw, you’re no fun!” Mina pouts, but the residue of a grin is still present on her face.

“So that leaves me and you to lead the main offensive.” Kyoka muses, tilting her head to one side as if in thought. “We follow behind Hagakure, act on her updates, and provide a distraction while she sneaks up and snatches the flag. I can listen in for approaching opponents that Hagakure misses, and provide combat backup if you end up needing it. Sounds logical enough.”

Izuku nods. “That’s the plan. Should we set off now for a head start?”

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way, Broccoli Boy.”

The two only make it to the foot of the mountain before the speakers start to blast Aizawa’s voice. “Prep time is over. Teams may now take each other's flags without penalty.”

Kyoka shares a dire look with Izuku, and the two pick up their pace. If someone emerges from the forestline before they reach it, the location of their flag will be rendered laughably obvious.

“Jiro, Jiro, come in Jiro!” Toru’s voice rings out from Kyoka’s remaining walkie-talkie. “I just passed Tsu and Kirishima, and it seems they’re headed for the flag! They’re approaching fast, so be on your guard!”

“Got it. You hear that, Todoroki?”

“Yep,” Shoto’s voice answers, calm as can be. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem, just doin’ my job!”

Kyoka lowers the device, allowing a grimace to overtake her features. “Shit. That means we might have company soon.”

“Not necessarily…” Izuku trails off. “I mean, it might disadvantage Todoroki and Mina, at least from a visual standpoint, but I can definitely throw up a smokescreen if you think we’re in danger of entering a fight. We might even be able to turn Tsuyu and Kirishima around a bit on their way to the mountain.”

Kyoka shoots Izuku a quizzical look. “Oh? Did you get some new support items too?”

“No?” Izuku responds, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

His classmate stares at him, wide eyed, for a solid minute before finally shrugging. “Uh, no reason, I guess.”

“So, should I do it? Or do you think we should ask Mina and Todoroki first?”

For some reason, she laughs at that. “I mean hey dude, if you can do it, go ahead and do it. I dunno how you’re gonna manage this, but I’d love to see it.”

Izuku isn’t quite sure how to take that response, but it certainly sounds like a go ahead if he’s ever heard one. He activates his quirk, and the desert immediately begins to fill with a thick expanse of smoke. Izuku is able to make out an incredibly astounded expression from Kyoka before his vision is completely obscured.

“What the actual fuck,” Kyoka’s voice emits from somewhere to Izuku’s left. “What. The. Actual. Fuck. ”

“Um, sorry.” Izuku apologizes, though he can’t really manage to imbue his voice with any guilt. Kyoka asked for this, didn’t she? “I thought that was a yes?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess?” Kyoka wavers. “Um, how did you just do that?”

Now it’s Izuku’s turn to be confused. “I used my quirk?”

“Oh,” She states. “Cool. Cool. You could’ve told us about this in advance, but whatever. After the weird whip things, I guess this is pretty tame. Yeah. Yeah, I’m cool with this.”

Izuku raises an eyebrow, but he knows that Kyoka can’t see it. Why is she reacting to his quirk like this? He’s used it a million times before, hasn’t he?

“So, uh, how are we supposed to get to the woods now? It’s kinda difficult to see.”

Izuku can’t help but be glad that Kyoka finally seems to have gotten back on track. “We’re going to have to fly above it. I know it’s a little awkward, but are you okay with me carrying you? I didn’t suggest it earlier because I was afraid of being spotted, but now, it doesn’t seem like we have much choice.”

“Midoriya, please explain what the fuck you mean by fly to me before you do anything else batshit crazy, or I think I’m gonna short circut.”

Now Izuku is starting to get a bit annoyed. He can’t imagine why Kyoka is reacting like this, especially considering that she’s normally so reasonable and put-together. But maybe he should allow her some grace. Everyone has off days, he knows that firsthand.

“I mean I’m going to pick you up and fly over the smoke so it doesn’t obscure our vision,” Izuku explains. “I was thinking we’d probably do a bridal carry, y’know, for comfort and even weight distribution.”

“Okay, sure, that might as well happen.” He hears her sigh, but the sound speaks more of begrudging acceptance than exasperation. “Get over here and pick me up then.”

Izuku follows Kyoka’s voice through the mist, placing a cautious hand on her smoke-shrouded shoulder before lifting her up to his chest. He’s certain she can’t weigh more than forty kilograms, so he isn’t at all surprised by the ease of the action.

It isn’t difficult at all to activate Float, and before long, the two are gliding together above the densely veiled swath of desert. As they rapidly near the treeline, Izuku hears confused voices below, and he’s certain that Kirishima and Tsuyu have found themselves trapped in the fog.

“What the Hell?!” Kyoka exclaims, and her grip around his shoulders tightens, somewhat uncomfortably. It’s a great time to remember just how much he loves his personal space. “Dude, I thought you meant you were going to jump or something! The fuck is this?!”

Izuku can’t help but sigh at that. “I said fly for a reason, Jiro. Look, I totally understand if you’re afraid of heights, but trust me, we’ll touch down just as quickly as we would if I had lept. See, no reason to be afraid, we’re about to land in the forest.”

Somehow, this does not seem to quell Kyoka’s nerves. Her head snaps over to face his, and now, her eyes are even wider than before. “I’m not afraid of heights, but I sure as Hell don’t appreciate being surprised during a training exercise. Is this some kind of prank or something? Does everyone else know about this but me? Am I on a fucking hidden camera show?”

Izuku is about to respond, but then, the communicator on Kyoka’s belt begins to crackle.

“Uh, hey guys, just checking in to see if everything’s okay. There’s some really weird… mist? Or something? And it started like, right where you were just standing. Oh wait- something is above it now. What is that, Todoroki?” There’s a brief pause. “Yeah, it sort of does look like a person. Do you guys see a flying person, by any chance?”

Kyoka releases one white-knuckled grip on Izuku’s shoulder to reach down for the device. Even as she lifts it to her mouth to respond, the expression of sheer astonishment never leaves her face. “Uh, yeah, Mina, that’d be me and Midoriya. He made the smoke. Somehow. And now we’re flying.”

There’s another pause, this one much longer than the last. “Oh. Cool. Um, keep in touch, I guess.”

Izuku can’t imagine why everyone is responding so unusually to his quirks. For a minute, at least. And then it hits him. If he’s the only one who thinks this is normal, then it probably isn’t. Kyoka was acting completely calm until… shit.

He isn’t supposed to be able to use Smokescreen, is he? Or Float, going off of Kyoka’s stubborn indignance. He’s used Black Whip before, that much is obvious based on her earlier assertion about the ‘weird whip things,’ but… what about Danger Sense? He’s certainly used that before, hasn’t he?

He isn’t quite sure.

And now, he’ll have to explain two new quirks to an entire class full of people. Sure, they bought his explanation for Black Whip eagerly enough, but two new quirks and a possible third on top of that? He really doesn’t want to have that conversation.

Then again though, Aizawa still hasn’t stopped the exercise, so he might as well keep going. Maybe he concluded that Smokescreen was a support item like Kyoka had originally assumed, and as long as there aren’t any cameras near his landing spot… okay, well that one’s a stretch. And it isn’t like he can expect his obviously perturbed classmate to keep her mouth shut.

So yeah. He’s screwed.

Should he apologize to Kyoka for his earlier indifference, or will that only make things worse? He’d acted like she was crazy for questioning something that she clearly had every right to question, but now that he’s committed, he’s certain that altering his approach will only be that much more suspicious.

False ignorance it is then.

“What’s this about mist and flying?” Toru’s voice joins in. “I think I’m getting pretty close to their base, like, I’m hearing voices and everything, but if you guys need backup-”

"No, it’s fine." Izuku interrupts, touching down on solid ground. As soon as he’s landed, Kyoka vaults out of his arms, landing lightly in a patch of grass. “We need to head your way. What direction did you go in?”

“I found a stream near the treeline and followed it further into the forest. If you can’t see it now, have Jiro listen for the sound of running water.”

“There.” Kyoka points a hand to Izuku’s right, and he follows the line it casts. Just as Toru promised, there’s a small brook pooling into a tiny pond at the base of the treeline, though it’s slowly being consumed by a rolling cloud of fog.

“Okay. Guess it’s time to set off then.”

Kyoka casts Izuku another befuddled glance before shrugging, once more, and walking off in the direction of the stream. Izuku follows a short distance behind.

They only make it a few feet before Toru’s voice pops over the com again, this time, in a whisper. “Okay, I found the flag. The stream is more like a river down here, and I’m guessing it comes from the lake, but there’s a little runoff that leads to a pond nearby. It’s a lot bigger than the one by the treeline, if you saw it, and it has a little island in the middle. 

“They’re on it, but the canopy is really dense here, so Dark Shadow is sort of… patrolling? I guess? He’s big, and he’s got the height to keep watch on anything in the clearing. And Kaminari is running some electricity through the water, so I’m not gonna be able to get across. Y’know, not that they wouldn’t see me swimming regardless.”

“Sounds like something Momo would put together.” Kyoka responds, cueing her volume control off Toru’s. “Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon. Does it look like she’s created anything to help with defense?”

“Uhhhh,” Toru trails off. “Yep. There are some obvious ex-holes around the perimeter of the lake. I think she’s put down mines or something. And none of them are standing near the flag, so there might be something tricky guarding it too.”

“Great.” Kyoka deadpans. “Well, doesn’t sound like anything we can’t handle, y’know, considering Midoriya’s insane quirk. I’m not even sure I really need to be here. Like, what am I gonna do? Detect the mines we can totally just fly over?”

Izuku can’t help but let his posture droop a little at that. Not only has he failed his mission to conceal One For All beyond reasonable belief, but he’s made Kyoka feel useless as well. Some day this is turning out to be.

“Not sure what you mean by that, but good luck?” Toru replies, her voice wavering slightly. “Oh, and stop all communications for a bit. I really don’t want these guys to know I’m here.”

Kyoka clips the com back onto her belt, gesturing for Izuku to pick up the pace. “No point in being stealthy, at least not until we reach the pond. We can walk a bit quicker now that we don’t have to worry about snapping twigs.”

The two walk in silence for a bit before Kyoka gestures for Izuku to stop. A little ways ahead, he can clearly make out a stream splitting off from the main river. “That’s what we’re looking for. Stay low.”

She crouches down in the underbrush, taking slow, measured steps as she approaches the stream diagonally. Izuku follows her example.

After a bit of walking, they begin to hear two voices along with the sound of gently lapping water. Stopping behind a dense patch of ferns, Kyoka raises her head just high enough to view what Izuku assumes must be the aforementioned pond. Her broad grin confirms his suspicions.

“Well, I can see the mines Toru was talking about. They’re pretty frequent, so it’ll be tough for me to avoid them without some help. You willing to carry me again?”

Izuku isn’t necessarily enthused by the prospect, but for the sake of the exercise, he nods.

“Cool,” Kyoka whispers. “But- wait a sec. I think they might be talking with Kiri and Tsu. Looks like Momo had the same idea we did. Maybe we should listen in and see how the guard squad is doing before we make ourselves known? I’m kinda curious.”

Izuku nods. His hearing isn’t quite as heightened as his teammate’s, but with a bit of straining, he can make out Momo’s words.

“Are you sure there isn’t any way you can make it up?”

“Uh, probably not?” That’s Ejiro’s voice over the com, infused with uncharacteristic doubt. “I mean trust me, I tried hardening my hands and using them as pickaxes, but Todoroki is just too fast. If I try again, my arms are gonna end up frozen in the side of the mountain. But Tsu’s up there, I just… can’t really see how she’s handling herself right now.”

“That’s great,” Denki groans. “First that random fog turns them around in the desert, and now this? We put way too much into our defense, our attack is completely failing, and the other team hasn’t even shown up yet. This is starting to get on my nerves. Should I go for backup?”

“No,” Momo sighs. “If anything, Tokoyami will be the better choice. I thought perhaps the advantage his quirk gained in the forest would be enough to justify using him defensively, but it appears I underestimated our opponent’s strategy. Still though… will Dark Shadow fare well in the desert? There’s likely to be a good deal of direct sunlight.”

“I can’t say with any certainty,” Fumikage begins. “But the odds are not in our favor.”

“Maybe- but no. It’s too late for Hail Marys. At this point, we’ll just have to put our faith in Tsuyu, or otherwise, hope for a tie. There isn’t much time before this match is over, after all.”

“Copy that,” Ejiro responds. “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”

Kyoka smirks at Izuku. “We’ve got this. All we’ve gotta do is grab their flag before Tsu grabs ours. You ready?”

He holds out his arms to Kyoka with a nod, and she climbs into them as hastily as she can without rustling the brush around them. As soon as she’s settled and secure, Izuku activates Float, shooting high over the bushes, but low enough not to collide with the overhead canopy of branches.

Sure he could use shoot style instead. It would definitely be less conspicuous. But Kyoka has already seen him fly anyway, and everyone on his team has heard about it secondhand. There’s really nothing to be gained from hiding it at this point, and the surprise might stall the opposing team some.

“Hold on.” Izuku orders Kyoka, extending one hand out to shoot a black whip directly towards the opposing team’s bright red flag.

Unfortunately, Fumikage’s reflexes are fast, and it’s only a moment before Dark shadow rises up to block it. Still though, Izuku’s new quirk is causing a bit of a stir. Momo, for one, appears frozen in evident shock, while Denki has stopped electrocuting the surrounding pond entirely.

“I’m going to set you down. Get ready to fight.” He warns, and before Kyoka even has a chance to argue, he summons a tendril of black whip to wrap around her waist. Without pause, the construct pulls her from his open arms and lowers to release her unhurt on the island below.

“What the- Midoriya?” Denki yells, though his next words are silenced as Kyoka unleashes a sonar blast aimed directly at his back. The force sends him tumbling into the pond at his feet, though not before, in a bout of surprise, he releases a powerful shock, this time, with his upper body fully submerged in water. When his head bobs back to the surface, it’s very clear based on his expression that his brain is currently out of commission.

Momo, shaken from her stupor, tackles Kyoka to the ground, shackling her hands with a hurriedly produced pair of cuffs. Kyoka tries to move her legs in a position that will allow their speakers an angle to properly attack her assailant, but unfortunately, she’s swiftly stilled by the injection of what Izuku assumes to be a tranquilizer shot produced from Momo’s leg.

With Denki momentarily out of commission, Toru bursts from her hiding spot in the bushes, and although Izuku can’t detect anything after the initial shifting of foliage, he assumes that she’s carefully edging the perimeters of mines in an attempt to provide backup.

Izuku makes a dive for the flag, simultaneously sending out a flurry of whips from as many directions as possible to join him. Dark Shadow responds just in time, bending in on itself to form a dome over his target. 

Danger sense activates, and at the last minute, Izuku heeds its warning, pulling out of the dive before stopping to hover below the forest's canopy. His earlier attacks glance ineffectively off Dark Shadow’s bulk, and it retracts slightly to reveal Fumikage positioned defensively below.

"Five minutes remain until the end of the exercise. If neither flag is taken before the time limit is reached, this match will result in a tie."

The statement, which emits from the area's surrounding speakers, causes Izuku’s heart to race. He only has five minutes to snatch the flag, or else risk a loss. He has to take out Fumikage, or he'll never be able to secure a win.

Unwilling to forfeit, Izuku lands on the edge of the island, using danger sense to avoid Dark Shadow's attempted attacks. After retracting, the quirk takes a minute to hover over its holder, and Izuku is given a clear shot.

Obviously Black Whip is ineffective against Dark Shadow, but he doubts that even it can withstand a direct hit from One For All. Reeling back his arm, Izuku activates his quirk, poising it for a punch.

Intending to compress the air in front of himself for a long ranged shot, Izuku focuses his quirk into as precise an area as he can. Aim is vital considering the destructive nature of his quirk, even a centimeter off and he knows he could potentially destroy the entire island and the mines that line it in one fell swoop.

A number of things happen in a very short span of time.

As soon as Izuku begins to move his arms, his nerves start to sear with nearly unbearable pain. For whatever reason, it feels as if his arm is submerged in lava. Every inch of its skin is singing out in agony, and he has absolutely no idea why. 

Did Momo attack him somehow? Is his quirk malfunctioning? Why is he in so much pain?

Unable to maintain his focus, Izuku's aim falters, but in his shock, he fails to halt the punch.

Momo realizes, far more quickly than Izuku, that there is a very distinct danger to Fumikage, and leaps in front of him, raising a hastily produced steel shield to block the blow.

It isn't nearly enough.

Both parties are swept up in the force of the punch, which immediately rips out a chunk of the island, displaces a swimming pool's worth of water, and detonates several mines. Momo's shield crumples like aluminum foil, though Fumikage, at the last second, is able to enclose himself entirely within Dark Shadow.

At Izuku's distance, the din of the exploding mines is deafening, and as he reaches to clutch his limp, broken arm, his ears are filled with a sharp, monotone ring.

Trapped in the miasma of shock, all Izuku can do is slowly turn his head, first left, then right, to survey the damage his attack has left in its wake.

Kyoka lays behind him asleep, peaceful as can be, and Denki is sitting cross-legged in the shallow bank of the pond, a look of blissful unawareness resting over his features. Based on Toru’s earlier location, she shouldn't have been caught up in the blast, but as for Momo and Fumikage…

The punch has carved out an enormous half circle in the ground, spanning from the flag's earlier resting place to the grove of now overturned trees that form the barrier of the clearing. He can vaguely perceive the outline of two bodies lying twisted in the rubble, one obviously far more injured than the other.

As his hearing begins to return gradually, Izuku can vaguely make out someone's voice shouting over the speakers, urgent and very clearly instructional. He's too distracted by pain to comprehend any words, but the parts of his brain that are still aware seem to register them as important. Just not as important as his arm… why is his arm hurting so much?

When his gaze lands, once more, on the broken silhouettes sprawled in the rubble, the image draws him abruptly out of shock. He just used One For All on his classmates, head-on, one hundred percent, no buffer. They might be wounded.

No.

They're definitely wounded. There's no question about that. 

They might be dead.

Izuku tries to take a step forward. He has to provide first aid, to help, to fix this, and if he can't, he at least wants to check a pulse, to make sure the worst hasn't come to pass. He lifts his leg.

The pain in his arm flares. He's nauseous, and dizzy, and is currently being assaulted by the absolute worst headache of his life. But he has to make it over to them, it's his responsibility, he did this.

As soon as his foot touches the ground, his leg gives way, and he falls, unceremoniously, into a heap on the dirt.

And then, before he even has the chance to register the motion, he blacks out.

Chapter Text

When Izuku opens his eyes, his vision is immediately flooded with the glare of bright, unrelenting white. The smell of industrial-grade antiseptic permeates the air around him, and the gentle hum of what must be a sizable AC vent can be heard above his head.

Before his eyesight even has time to adjust, he’s already certain of his location. He’s in a hospital, a brand of institution that he’s definitely no stranger to. He wonders for a minute, absentmindedly, what exactly put him there, but quickly abandons his musings before granting them any importance.

There’s a number of reasons why he might be receiving medical treatment, and he doesn’t really want to consider any of them for too long. Dwelling on things only leads to stress and spiraling, and he can’t afford to be anxious when his constitution is already so fragile. It’s much better, he’s learned with experience, just to be grateful that he isn’t home.

Something certainly is different than usual though. His arm is suspended beside his chest, encased in a dense, white cast. For a moment, this detail is confusing, because he can’t think of any opportunities he’d have to dislocate a limb, much less break one.

Until he remembers that he’s a hero, and then, it seems all too plausible. Maybe his arm had been caught between debris during a rescue mission again. Or it might’ve been broken by a villain’s quirk, that one’s happened more than once.

Either way, a broken arm isn’t a serious injury, even if he’s never had one before. Except that he definitely has. Most likely.

Izuku exhales in frustration, shaking his head from side to side. He must be on painkillers. There’s no other logical explanation for the wave of intense disorientation that’s washing over him as he considers his past experiences with injuries. Pain medication always leaves his mind a little muddled. Maybe. Probably.

Funnily enough, his biggest lament as he gauges the limb's damage is the surety of it affecting his ability to play piano. He's been relying on it recently as a distraction from his troubles, and parting with it, even temporarily, sounds nothing short of emotionally damning.

A soft intake of breath can be heard to Izuku’s left, and he startles a bit in his hospital bed. He’d thought he was alone, but apparently, he has company.

When he manages to pull himself up, struggling somewhat with his arm’s suspended sling, he sees, peacefully napping in an armchair situated squarely in the corner of the room, his mother. And he can’t help but feel a bit indignant.

Because she couldn’t stay for the duration of any of his surgeries, or even send a store-bought get well soon card following his numerous close calls with death, but she’s here now, having stayed the night for a broken arm of all things. 

It’s a little late, he thinks, for her to suddenly pretend to care. If it weren’t for universal healthcare and the inevitable judgment she’d be dealt by the neighbors when his corpse was wheeled away, he doubts he’d even be receiving medical treatment.

No- memory problems. He's having memory problems. His mother has always been there for him, always cared, and he isn't about to let his quirk fool him into believing she hasn't, not for a second. 

Because it is his quirk that's causing this, he suddenly recalls, all of this, the conflicting memories, the confusion, the constant, dull ache in the back of his head insisting that something is always just ever so slightly off with his mind, his body, his surroundings, his life … maybe it's his quirk that put him in the hospital too.

He thinks the possibility over, studying his arm with narrowed eyes. What had he been doing the day before? He'd been at work- no. School. He'd been at school and it had been a Tuesday. That meant there'd been training, and…

Izuku thrashes the sheets off his body, freeing his broken arm, rather aggressively, from its sling. He's hit with a wave of vertigo as he stands, but after a second of stumbling, he recovers his balance. 

He doesn't even consider the burgeoning pain in his arm as he hurtles out into the hall, nearly taking out a nurse with a hastily opened door as he goes. He shoots her a haphazard but heartfelt "Sorry!" before sprinting, akilter, in the direction a sign assures leads to an elevator. She yells something at his back, but he's too monofocused to really comprehend it.

The windows he passes on his way reveal a cloudless night sky, robbed of stars by Musutafu's considerable light pollution. How long has he been out? Definitely hours, at the very least.

Hours during which his two injured classmates have either recovered, or… no. There's no use thinking like that. He needs to find their hospital rooms.

There's a map on the furthermost wall of the elevator, which is helpful, but he isn't certain where in the hospital his friends might be residing. Should he check the emergency department? The trauma center?

If it's been as long as Izuku thinks, then they're probably already resting in their own hospital rooms like he was. Maybe even on the same floor he just fled.

As the doors of the elevator start to close, Izuku realizes that his earlier behavior might've been just a tad rash. He isn't given much time to second guess himself though, as a feathered appendage reaches through to fill the gap in the doors before they can fully seal.

"Sorry, mind if I hop on?" A voice asks, airy despite its masculine undertones.

Izuku startles a bit, but responds as quickly as he can. "No, not at all!"

When the elevator opens once more, a man resembling a corvid enters, holding an unopened can of soda in one wing-like hand. An expression of astonished recognition crosses his face for a moment before being hastily replaced by one of polite neutrality.

"You're Midoriya, aren't you? I remember you from the UA Sports Festival. Fumikage only ever has good things to say about you."

Izuku feels his stomach drop. "Uh, does that mean that you're Tokoyami’s…?"

The man's gaze softens. "Father, yes. There's no need to look so out of sorts, young man, Fumikage has assured me that you meant him no harm. Accidents are bound to happen when children are involved; the responsibility of prevention and mitigation falls upon teachers, not students."

Is Fumikage’s father blaming Aizawa for his son's injuries? Izuku would almost rather he'd been yelled at. What had happened during the training exercise was no one's fault but his own, and to blame Aizawa, who had been then, as always, just as responsible and proactive as the situation had allowed seems… unfair, to say the least.

But he has to agree on one point. He still has absolutely no idea why his quirk backfired the way it did, and what he had done was definitely an accident.

"So does that mean that he's awake?"

Fumikage’s father nods, punching in a floor number on the elevator panel. "Yes, luckily enough, he's responded incredibly well to treatment. He's on some serious medication, of course, but I'm sure he'll be back to himself in no time."

Izuku sighs in relief. Fumikage is fine. "That's wonderful to hear. I felt horrible after what happened. Tokoyami is a close friend of mine, and I never would've been able to forgive myself if I had caused any… uh, lasting damage. Do you, um, by any chance, know how Yaoyorozu is doing? I mean, the girl who was also injured. I… I want to check up on her, too."

A shadow falls over the man's face. "Ah, well… I'm not sure it's my place to say."

Izuku’s stomach drops again, and this time, it doesn’t stop falling. "But she's okay, right? I mean- I'm sorry, Sir, I just can't stand the thought of not knowing if... well, what I mean to say is, she's a good friend of mine too, and I care about her very much. If you can tell me anything, anything at all, I'd be extremely grateful."

"Hm… her room is near Fumikage’s on the post-surgery floor. I suppose I could point you in the right direction, if her family is allowing visitors."

Izuku attempts a smile. "Thank you so much, sir, it would really mean a lot to me. I'd like to check in with her first, just to make sure she's okay and everything, but… would it be alright if I stopped by Tokoyami’s room afterward? I'd like to apologize to him in person."

The man's beak curls into an even deeper frown. "Ah, well, as I said, he's a bit loopy right now. I'm not really sure he'd be able to comprehend an apology if you gave one, but-"

"No, it's alright, I understand. Thank you for doing what you can."

Izuku gets the feeling that there might be a few other unspoken reasons for the denial, but he isn't about to contest them. He was the one who put Fumikage in the hospital, after all.

When the elevator opens, Izuku receives the information he needs, bows politely in gratitude, and speed walks to Momo's room. It isn't far away, and he only has to check its exterior plaque once before raising a fist to knock on its door.

Before his knuckles can wrap the wood, the door opens inward, revealing an imposing woman with sleek, raven-black hair. Her eyes narrow for a moment as they sweep over Izuku, but once they reach his face a second time, her expression deteriorates from cautious curiosity to full-on disgust.

" You, " She practically snarls. "Have some nerve showing up here after what you did."

Izuku lifts his hands out in front of him defensively as the woman, Momo's mother, he has to assume, advances forward.

"Ma'am, I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean to put my daughter in a coma? Well, I'd hope not. Your case is already poor enough as it is. But intention doesn't change outcomes, now does it?"

The malice dripping from the woman's voice is enough to bite, but even more painful are her eyes. Mascara forms thin, strangled lines down both of her cheeks, and it's obvious from the raw, puffy pink of her eyelids that she's been crying.

If Izuku remembers correctly, Momo had told him the day before that her parents were out of town for work, which means she must've flown some distance to come see her daughter so quickly. It's obvious that she cares immeasurably, which only makes him feel all the more horrendous for his actions.

Apparently, he hurt Momo enough to put her in a coma, even with Recovery Girl's help and the aid of the hospital's full technology and staff. He should never have gone out on the field when his quirk was acting up, he knows that now, and even if remorse can't fix the situation, he has plenty to spare.

"I can't apologize enough for-"

"I don't want your apologies." Her voice is sharp now. Cold. "Someone like you shouldn't have even been attending the same school as her, much less the same class. Exhibiting so little control over such a destructive quirk? It screams of negligence if not outright arrogance. Power is useless without control, but who are you to care with such an ostentatious quirk?"

The woman's hands grip either side of the doorway, both white-knuckled with strain.

"You are everything that is wrong with the current climate of heroics. An utter disgrace. And I hope they expel you for what you've done if not worse. You certainly deserve it."

Izuku nods. He may not want to be expelled, but he definitely can't argue. Hurting someone with his quirk as he had, even unintentionally, calls for arrest at the very least.

She glowers down at him, spitting her next words. "Get out of my sight. Now ."

His feet can't take him away quickly enough. He doesn't deserve to visit Momo, or Fumikage, he knows that now, and he doesn't give either room a second glance before boarding the closest hospital elevator and sinking to the floor.

He knows it's unsanitary, but he's alone, which means there's no one there to judge him for it. After burying his face in his arms, one stiff within its cast, he feels tears forming in his eyes, and he can't help but be angry with himself.

Self-pity definitely isn't something he should be engaging in, not when others have it so much worse, and because of him to boot. His mind drifts once more to Momo.

Momo, who behaved exactly as she was supposed to. Who jumped in front of Fumikage to save him from Izuku’s attack. Who is in a coma of yet undefined severity, but whose mother's grief speaks volumes.

She might've overstepped a line, speaking to him like that, but he can't blame her. He can only imagine how his mother would've reacted, placed in a similar situation. How much she would've suffered. How much Momo's mother is suffering now.

The elevator dings.

"There you are, Kid. Your mother's been worried sick about you."

Izuku raises his head, trying his best to conceal the tears on his face. "All Might? What are you doing here?"

"Well, I would've come sooner if I hadn't been preoccupied with responding to the Tartarus situation-" All Might's voice cuts off abruptly. "But nevermind that, you've got enough to worry about as it is. I'm… incredibly sorry for what happened today."

Izuku frowns. "Don't apologize, it wasn't your fault. I should've known better than to fight with my quirk acting up. There wasn't anything you could've done to change things."

All Might offers Izuku a hand up, and he takes it. "You would never have used One For All like that I'd it hadn't been for my memories. There's a lot I could've done differently, to prepare you and to prevent you from becoming a danger to yourself. For starters-"

Izuku can't help but interject as they exit the elevator, "what do you mean if it hadn't been for your memories? What's that got to do with One For All malfunctioning?"

Both of All Might's eyebrows raise in unison. "You still don't remember, do you? You can't use One For All at one hundred percent, Kid."

"Now that definitely isn't true." Izuku shakes his head. "I've been operating at one hundred percent for years. What reason would I have to hold back?"

"No," he speaks slowly, clearly enunciating each word. "You haven't. And it's very important that you understand that."

He isn't normally the stubborn type, at least not overtly, but this is something Izuku is willing to stand his ground on. Because he knows that he's right.

"You don't have to lie to me. I'm not going to use it until we've figured out what's wrong anyway. I know my limits."

Based on All Might's expression, there's clearly some unspoken irony to his words. Before he can question it verbally, All Might looks him in the eyes, his gaze so intense and pointed that Izuku freezes in place.

"I'm not lying, and I need to know that you don't just comprehend that, but that you believe it."

Izuku frowns, breaking eye contact to glance down at his cast. He has no idea where the urgency is coming from, he wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't use his quirk. What else could All Might possibly be worried about? Doesn't he trust him?

"I can't say I do."

Izuku can tell that he's disappointed his mentor, but he has no idea how. No- it's worse than disappointment. All Might is concerned .

A dull pain gnaws at Izuku's chest. He's being burdensome again.

"I'm sorry, if I said something wrong-"

"It's alright, you didn't say anything wrong at all." All Might smiles, but it's a smile Izuku recognizes from news footage. The kind he gives to assuage people's fears when things have grown especially dicey, not the kind he produces naturally.

In that instant, It has the opposite effect. Now more than ever, Izuku is incredibly worried.

"Let's get you back to your room, I'm sure your mother wants to speak with you now that you're awake."

Predictably, his mother is there as soon as the door opens, wrapping him into a bear hug. The invasion of personal space is uncomfortable, but he's willing to endure it without complaint for her sake.

"Oh, Izuku, you can't go running off like that, do you want to give your poor mother a heart attack?!"

"No, Mom, I'm sorry for worrying you, but I had to see if Yaoyorozu and Tokoyami were okay."

His mother sobs. "Of course you did! I'm so sorry, Izuku, I should've done something sooner!"

"Done something? What do you-"

"And you!" Unexpectedly, Izuku is thrust from his mother's embrace, left to watch as she approaches All Might in the doorway, pointer finger extended in an undeniably accusatory fashion.

"I asked you to look after him, didn't I? And like the fool I am, I trusted you when you promised you would!" The tears are gone from her eyes now, leaving behind nothing but cold rage in their absence. "As if the constant villain attacks weren't bad enough, he's been working himself to exhaustion every day just to maintain his grades! I hear that he talked back to his teachers yesterday - something he's never done before mind you - and that he had a panic attack? That isn't okay! None of this is okay!"

Not to mention that he's so tired he's reverted back to hurting himself! I don't expect you to understand, but as his mother, there is absolutely no way I'm going back to seeing him come home from school beaten and bruised ever again. And that isn't even mentioning his quirk! It seems as though it's going to keep mutating, and Yuuei obviously isn't properly equipped to deal with it!"

"I-"

"I've been speaking with Izuku’s father, and we've decided. Yuuei obviously isn't safe for Izuku, and no teacher's second opinion is changing my mind on that this time."

Izuku steps forward. "Mom, you can't pull me out of Yuuei, it's-"

"Izuku, please." His mother turns to face him. "I understand that it'll be hard for you, but trust me, it's the right decision in the long run. Your father has found several alternatives to Yuuei, and with your scores, none of them should be difficult to transfer to."

"Is Dad seriously supporting this?"

She sighs. "Please don't blame your father for this, he's dealing with enough already. I suggested the idea and had the final call, so I certainly don't want to hear you giving him any grief over it."

That makes a little more sense, but Izuku is still hurt. Regardless though, he isn't leaving Yuuei, not unless they expel him like Momo's mother hopes they might. But a more logical approach might work better, he's willing to concede to that.

"Mom, think about this rationally," he implores. "I'm safer at Yuuei than anywhere else. No other school is going to have the same level of security or precautions."

"That school is the only reason anyone is trying to hurt you in the first place! This decision is final. You aren't attending Yuuei next semester."

Izuku exchanges a desperate glance with All Might, who looks incredibly nonplussed himself. "If there's anything I can do to-"

"No, there isn't." His mother crosses her arms. "I'd like to speak with my son alone, if that's alright."

All Might nods awkwardly, stepping back to close the room's door. Izuku wants to ask him to stay, because if he does, then there'll at least still be the illusion of a chance that the two of them can change his mother's mind, but before he can speak, his mother has turned to face him again.

"I want you to be happy, Izuku, but ultimately, your safety is just more important. I've been negligent about this for far too long. No good mother should stand by idly while her son hurts himself. Do you know what they told me after they set your arm? That you're lucky you didn't lose it. They said that if something like this happens again, you will."

Izuku feels the fire burning in his chest again, the same one that the vestiges' memories lit before he ran off to check on his classmates. And even though he knows the fire isn't his, he can't help but feel irate at her words.

Of course she'd only care when it inconvenienced him. Why would he ever expect anything different?

But no- her concern is genuine, he knows that. And she has no idea just how much is riding on his continued tenure at Yuuei, how could she? But even so…

"Mom." He clenches his fists. He needs to calm down. Deep breaths. "I can't leave school. I've been having some problems lately that no one outside of Yuuei can help me deal with."

"Izuku, what do you mean?"

He thinks for a moment. His mother needs to know about the memory problems he's experiencing, even if he can't tell her about One For All directly. It shouldn't be too difficult of an issue to talk around though, should it?

"I was hit by a quirk that affects my memories. I think it's got something to do with everything you've heard about me doing this past week and the… outcome of yesterday's training exercise. Remember how I acted at lunch?"

His mother suddenly looks as though she's going to cry again. "And how did this happen?"

Izuku grapples to maintain the fib, but it's tough to really focus while he's devoting so much attention to controlling his emotions. "Um, it was a villain."

"A villain you wouldn't have been fighting if it hadn't been for school." She shakes her head, tears forming in her eyes. "And they obviously haven't done a good job of managing it either. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want you to worry," he says, and it isn't a lie, not really. "And l didn't know if it would resolve itself or not. It didn't seem all that severe until now."

"Well, for starters," his mother begins. "You should never worry about being a burden on me. I'm your mother, and I'm capable of handling a lot more than you seem to think I am. You need to promise me you'll tell me about things like this in the future."

Izuku nods, putting on the most genuine expression he can manage. Even without the vestiges' memories interfering, his mother has never been the person he'd come to first in a truly dire situation. He's always been the one who watches after her, not the other way around.

But he doesn't say that.

"Good." She smiles, but the gesture is melancholy. "Now I need you to tell me more about this quirk so we can find someone to undo it."

Izuku can't stop himself from grimacing then. "Mom, it isn't like that."

"Like what? There are professionals who deal in the removal of long-term quirk effects, and I can guarantee you they're all much more qualified than a hero is likely to be."

He grits his teeth. "Yuuei knows more about the quirk than anyone else. Trust me, I'm not getting any better unless I stay where I am."

"Izuku." His mother looks him in the eye, mouth set in a thin line. "Are you lying to me? If this is some excuse to stay in school-"

"It isn't!" Now Izuku is really exasperated. "I wouldn't lie to you about something this important, you know that."

She raises an eyebrow. "So there is something you would lie to me about?"

"That-" Izuku sputters, breaking eye contact. "That isn't what I meant!"

His mother's gaze shifts, first to Izuku, and then to the cellphone she's clutching in her right hand. She's obviously contemplating something, though it seems as though she doesn't want to be.

After a few moments pass, her gaze fills with resolve. "Izuku, I'm going to have to check your story with Aizawa. It's not that I don't trust you, but-"

"No, it is that you don't trust me." Izuku feels his stomach drop. Aizawa definitely isn't going to corroborate his story because he has no idea that it's partially true. "Aizawa wasn't there, but if you ask All Might-"

"Wouldn't your homeroom teacher have been informed?"

Izuku gulps. He's dug himself a grave, that much is obvious, and worse, he has no idea how he's supposed to climb out.

"I- it happened off-campus?"

His mother shakes her head. Her expression isn't just disappointed, it's hurt. "You've never lied to me like this before."

Izuku isn't sure what he should say to that. So he doesn't say anything at all.

His mother stares at him for a moment that feels like an hour, eyes begging for an apology, an explanation, something .

Then, her gaze drops. She turns away. Izuku opens his mouth, but once again, words evade him.

He can't stop replaying the First's memories - he assumes they're the First's at least - in his head, over and over again. It's something about the hospital, he thinks. Things will be different once his environment changes. They have to be.

"You haven't eaten all day. I'll go get you something from the food court. Stay here and rest."

"But what about-"

"You're not returning to Yuuei," She states, back already turned. "And no amount of arguing is going to change that."

Izuku is left standing, stunned, in the center of the room. He can't leave Yuuei. There are so many reasons he can't leave Yuuei. But he can't explain a single one of them to his mother.

His mother, who now thinks that he blatantly lied to her face. Not that she was wrong, he's been lying to her for some time now, about his middle school life, his quirk, the danger it's put him in… but even so, she'd picked an extremely inopportune lie to catch.

The vestiges specifically ordered him to stay at Yuuei, a suggestion that All Might had enthusiastically seconded. He suddenly feels lightheaded.

There's no way to protect One For All at home, or himself, for that matter. He has no idea how he's meant to stay safe, not with-

Red like the corpses, red like the dirt, red like the gaping wound in his chest, red in his throat, in his lungs, red -

Izuku opens his eyes. He's fallen backwards onto his hospital bed, limbs splayed out in a star around him as his heart hammers in his chest.

He reaches up a hand to wipe his forehead and finds it covered with a dense sheen of sweat. It takes him a moment to process that he's just experienced another episode. He can guess what triggered it.

Exhaustion falls over him all at once as he curls his shivering body inward, trying to think of something, anything, to distract himself from his worries. But he's leaving Yuuei, and Momo is in a coma, and his memories are being rewritten, and his mother thinks he's a liar, and the man who murdered him - no not him, but someone like him - is on the loose, and nothing is okay, not one single thing.

His mother is getting him food, so he should stay awake. But sleep sounds so terribly inviting, and he can't imagine that she'll look unkindly on him for getting some rest, not with a broken arm, anyways.

Using the last of his remaining strength, he wriggles under the bed's topmost blanket, burying his head into its pillow. He closes his eyes, and is, for a moment, vaguely aware of a door clicking open, then shut.

There's the distant sound of footsteps. A hand runs through his hair, but he's already too far gone to bat it away. 

It occurs to him, briefly, that during the entire exchange with his mother, he never cried once. Not even when she had.

Does he normally cry easily? No, his exhaustion-addled brain assures, he doesn't. He isn't a very emotional person, especially not when others are around. 

So why had the observation surprised him?

He considers the thought, turning it over slowly in his mind until it loses all meaning. And then, mercifully, he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Izuku sits in bed, fingers absentmindedly tapping against his mattress to the rhythm of some silent melody. 

He finished school early today (attending online does have its perks as few and far between as they may be), and after rereading a few comic lines (he's read everything on his shelves far too many times to count at this point) and practicing for his upcoming solo (excessive, really, he knows it by heart, forwards and backwards), he's been left with nothing to do besides wait, in static anticipation, for his older brother to return from his own day at school. 

Which he attends In-person, of course. Izuku tries to keep his envy in check most days. It isn't his brother's fault that he's perpetually bedridden, after all. But Hisashi hardly makes it easy.

The few days Izuku has been approved to physically attend school, he's been referred to exclusively as "Shigaraki’s little brother," which, while technically true, still grates on his nerves quite a bit. Hisashi insists that he should be grateful for the distinction, as it's not only a positive social connection (his brother is, of course, extremely popular), but also comes with the added benefit of instantly endearing him to school staff (naturally his brother has perfect grades, not to mention his status as student council president).

Izuku thinks that this is a disadvantage nonetheless, and has told Hisashi as much in no uncertain terms. Even without people handling him with kid gloves as a result of his health, his brother's reputation earns him more than a little unusual treatment.

Especially after how he reacted to the children who tried to bully Izuku back in elementary school. It had taken months for his classmates to stop jumping whenever he entered the room after that. Hisashi had insisted he be grateful for that too. Izuku can never tell when he's joking.

Izuku is startled from his thoughts by a knock at the door, the source of which is most definitely either Hisashi, or his mother. He banks off the former.

"It's unlocked."

The door swings open, and Izuku is relieved to see that his initial guess was correct. His brother's gait is relaxed and even as he approaches, but Izuku doesn't fail to note that he shuts and locks the door before leaving it.

Hisashi tries to protect him from their mother when he can. It's not that she's blatantly aggressive towards Izuku, not really, but the cold indifference she deals him can be just as bad, especially when she's in a mood. It's always safer to be proactive.

"Who's the best brother in the entire world?" Hisashi asks, by way of greeting.

Izuku rolls his eyes. "Wow, I don't know. Probably not you, but considering your ego, I'm sure you've convinced yourself one way or another."

His brother pointedly ignores the response, fishing something out of his backpack as he takes a seat at the foot of Izuku’s bed.

After a few seconds, he produces a wrapped parcel, holding it out to Izuku with a grin. "You're right, it's me. No need to say thank you, I don't do it for the recognition."

Izuku snorts at that, but he can't help but smile as he takes the package. "Like Hell you don't. What is this?"

"Well, the point of wrapping the thing is supposed to be that you're not certain what's inside until you open it. I know you're a shut-in, Yoichi, but I'd think you'd have watched enough television by now to gather that much."

He rolls his eyes again. "Wow, thanks, asshole. Wouldn't have figured it out without the help."

Hisashi has mastered the art of deadpan. "It's what I'm here for."

It takes Izuku a moment to find the seam in the paper, but as soon as he does, the parcel is easy to unravel. His brother used a very weak adhesive, and Izuku can't help but be torn between being mildly offended, and somewhat touched by the gesture.

On the one hand, it's just another way for him to remind Izuku of how weak he is. On the other, he's right. Izuku actually might've had some trouble had he used anything stronger.

The paper peels back to reveal a book encased within a sleeve of plastic, having been given ample space by a generous wrapping job so as not to crease the corners. Izuku immediately recognizes the cover.

"No way," he breathes. "This isn't-"

"Original print, mint condition," Hisashi assures. "Now as I said, there's no need to thank me, but-"

"Where did you get the money for this?" Izuku's tone is accusatory, not grateful, although there is a good reason for the suspicion.

The comic he's currently holding is the first in a line that originally debuted multiple decades ago. It's from the same property that he and his brother used to read back before he abandoned comics in favor of his responsibilities at school, which are nearly as numerous and time-consuming as they are illustrious.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," Izuku replies. "You know it does."

Hisashi doesn't have a job, though he does have a few unsavory hobbies that could reasonably substitute one. Izuku knows that while his brother enjoys the academic benefits of his position on student council, he applied primarily to gain power over his peers.

His brother has always dealt in the currency of favors, and he's used his authority to accumulate yen on more than one occasion. Izuku has always been against it on the grounds of corruption of power, though for Hisashi, that only seems to sweeten the pot.

"I might've twisted Hirota's arm a bit," Hisashi concedes. "But he wouldn't have his position as track club president without my help, and you should trust me when I tell you that he needed it for his university applications. He owed me. It was money fairly earned."

Izuku frowns. That sours the gift more than a bit, even without his suspicions as to its nature. "Do you need something from me, Hisashi?"

His brother raises an eyebrow, still grinning. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, for starters, you're giving me a gift. An expensive gift. And it isn’t a special occasion. It also happens to be a gift that's related to our childhood. Like you're trying to induce nostalgia. Which would, y’know, possibly make me more emotionally open to doing a favor for you, if you wanted me to."

Hisashi actually laughs at that. "Yoichi, I honestly can't think of anything you'd be able to do for me. Have I ever asked you for anything before?"

The answer to that question is a resounding no, but Izuku almost wishes it weren’t. He's seen his brother manipulate his mother so many times (not hard when he's the golden child, but still) and heard enough stories about his exploits at school to be on guard, but he's never been the victim of any shady tactics himself.

When he was younger, he'd taken it as a sign that his brother trusted him, that he was somehow above everyone else in his eyes. Now that he's stopped worshiping him quite so much, Izuku suspects that the treatment might actually be the result of complete and utter disrespect. Like somehow, he isn’t even worth the effort of a con.

"Okay, fair. Why then?"

Hisashi's gaze shifts pointedly to the keyboard in the corner of the room.

" Oh. "

Izuku has a recital coming up. Having placed first at the local level, his next step is regionals. Even though his mother has never watched a single one of his performances, she still insists that he practice far more than the recommended time period each day, and often into the night now that he has, at her insistence, soundproofed his room.

She always says that considering he's good for nothing else (not really true, he has excellent grades, just not quite up to par with Hisashi's) he might as well do something to contribute to the family's success. Sometimes, Izuku wonders if he'd have ever taken up piano if it hadn't been for his mother's influence.

The constant pressure to outdo his brother in something, even knowing he'd never have a metahuman ability or be able to wake up in the morning without downing several prescriptions.

But it's fine, because he enjoys it anyway. Even if it is something of a conscious escape mechanism.

"She's been working you into the ground lately. I tried to convince her to let up, but… well, a gift seemed like the second best thing."

Izuku nods. Now he feels terrible for accusing his brother, especially considering that he will actually come to Izuku’s recital. Even if he has to cancel plans, or lose out on a deal, or miss a student council meeting (even though everyone will forgive the absence, they always do). 

He never fails to support Izuku, even if he is a bit obnoxious about it. "Uh, yeah, thanks. Sorry for the-"

"No worries, all is forgotten." Hisashi does look a bit smug, but Izuku can forgive it, granted he gets in a bit of ribbing.

His brother always finds it hilarious when he's in a position of moral superiority, probably because of how much Izuku hassles him for his lack of ethics.

"Smirk all you like, you still stole from someone to buy me this." He gestures to his new comic book.

Hisashi sighs. "Once again, Yoichi, it wasn't stealing. Theft implies the use of force, or at the very least the absence of dialogue. What I did was, by definition, trading ."

"More like extortion," Izuku mutters, just loudly enough that he's certain Hisashi can hear.

Now it's his brother's turn to roll his eyes. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. You're far too sheltered to comprehend the value of the services I provide."

And there it is again. "I wouldn't expect you to understand" is right up there with "for your own good" on Hisashi's frequently used phrases list. Izuku is a bit tired of hearing both.

"Sure, whatever."

That response seems to upset Hisashi, just a bit. It's a minute change in expression, the twitch of an eyebrow, the slight downturn of the corner of his mouth, but Izuku has gotten pretty good at reading his brother, even when he's trying to be discreet.

"I used The Ability today."

This makes Izuku freeze in place. Hisashi has a metahuman ability. Everyone knows this. But Izuku is the only one who knows it's true nature.

Back when he was little, maybe four or five, Hisashi had been visiting the public park with their parents. Supposedly, back before their father died, times had been different. Different enough that their mother would actually take both of them to the park instead of just Hisashi, taking the time to ensure that a younger Izuku was properly cared for in consideration of his constitution. 

Izuku was too young to actually retain any of it, and he honestly still has trouble believing that part of the story.

Either way, while there, Hisashi had encountered another child his age who had, at the time, possessed a metahuman ability. Fire-breathing.

Even then, as young as he was, Hisashi had liked superhero comics, and thus been rendered insanely jealous (Izuku assumes he was insanely jealous, at least, Hisashi's retellings always omit personal emotions unless they serve a purpose) by the child's exhibitions. Without thinking, he'd reached out and grabbed the boy's hand, and come away with the power once he let go.

Neither of them had known that at the time though. The child had appeared confused when his ability stopped working, went to tell his mother, and the two had promptly left the park. Hisashi hadn't realized what happened until, later that day, he'd set a bowl of soup, along with the family's kitchen table, up in flames.

So his parents had counted their blessings for having a child who was a member of the first metahuman generation in history, and set to work making sure that Hisashi would have every opportunity to use his newfound ability to succeed, not knowing just how powerful it really was.

Izuku doesn’t find it hard to believe that, at such a young age, his brother was already aware enough of the world to keep his real capabilities a secret. He's always been scarily smart.

Hisashi had only ever told Izuku, back during the height of their obsession with heroes and villains, what he was really capable of. Fire-breathing was his metahuman ability, the other was simply referred to as The Ability, dubbed as such, allegedly, to prevent any unwanted questions. It's unsubtle enough that Izuku now suspects Hisashi actually created the moniker out of flair for the dramatic, not any actual desire to remain covert.

Only later did he think to question why his brother had been so certain after only one trial. But he'd never asked Hisashi if he had any other abilities stored away, mainly for fear of losing his trust. Some part of him was also afraid of what his brother's answer might be.

"You did what ?"

"Don't act so shocked. I know you're intelligent enough to have figured it out by now. Or did you really think I was considerate enough not to use it?"

Izuku frowns. "I'd hoped you were. Why are you telling me this now? You know I'll have to do something about it. I don't have plausible deniability anymore."

Hisashi's eyes narrow, but his grin doesn't falter. "As if anyone would believe you. Besides, both parties agreed to the terms of the exchange. We made a mutually beneficial deal, and if, for any reason, I asked her to sign a contract to prove its legitimacy, I'm certain she would. There was nothing immoral about the exchange, much less illegal."

"No one knows that what you can do is even possible, or I'm sure it would be," Izuku counters. "What did you give her in exchange?"

"Nothing." Hisashi smirks. "And before you get up in arms about it, she didn't want the ability in the first place. Apparently it drew the wrong kind of attention."

"What is it?" Izuku knows he's taking the bait, but he can't help but be curious.

"Teleportation. The military was knocking on her door constantly, trying to recruit her for studies and experiments, or otherwise enlist her as a special operative. She got the feeling that if she didn't agree soon, they'd make her."

He locks eyes with Izuku. 

"Was that a bad thing, me giving her the option to escape compulsory enlistment? Even with agreement, even with fair exchange, is it still unforgivable in your eyes?"

Izuku holds his ground. "You don't know what taking away her ability will do to her; there's every chance there could be side-effects or unforeseen consequences. And even if she agreed now, with the military breathing down her neck, who's to say she won't regret it later? How will the recruiters even know that she's normal now?"

Hisashi shrugs. "I think they'll figure it out eventually, Yoichi. Either way, it really isn't my problem anymore. She made her decision knowing the potential consequences, and now she'll have to live with them."

There's a tangible lapse in the conversation.

"How many times have you done this, Hisashi?"

"These abilities are fairly rare, at least as of now. I've currently amassed ten."

Izuku reels. "And you'd have more, if there were more around?"

"If their owners agreed to give them up willingly? Certainly."

He's staring at Izuku expectantly, almost as if he's hoping he'll validate his actions. It's bittersweet, the realization that the gift had ultimately been a manipulation tactic, at least partially.

Hisashi never lies, not to Izuku. But he does omit the truth, when it suits him.

"And if they didn't?"

His brother averts his gaze. "That depends."

"On what?"

"How valuable the ability in question is."

Izuku shakes his head. Sometimes he has absolutely no idea how to communicate with Hisashi. "You get how that's wrong, don't you? Because if you don't, then I have no clue how I'm supposed to go about explaining it."

Hisashi shrugs. "I understand how you could perceive it as wrong, which essentially amounts to the same thing."

"You're impossible."

"It's obviously genetic."

Izuku sighs. "Look, can you just promise me that you won't let this get out of hand? I have no idea what you think you need all these abilities for, but I really can't imagine any reason being good enough to justify this."

"Certainly," Hisashi replies, leading Izuku to question what exactly his brother defines as going overboard. "But my reason is a sound one."

"Do tell."

"You've realized, haven't you, that the first generation of metahuman individuals is nearing adulthood?"

"I live with you. I think it'd be pretty difficult not to."

"Have you considered how such a development might alter the socioeconomic climate of Japan?"

Izuku begrudgingly nods. "Things will definitely be different."

"Yes, they will. Can you imagine many individuals with strong offensive abilities being satisfied with mundane office jobs when they've been raised on stories of heroes and villains? What's preventing them from using their power to usurp the current political order?"

"The law," Izuku responds, though his tone is noncommittal.

"And do you think the military or police force can combat metahuman individuals with modern weaponry alone? There's a reason the government has been seeking out individuals like the girl I mentioned. The peace we've experienced for decades isn't a stable one, Yoichi."

"Okay. So, what's your point?"

"I'm doing what I can to ensure our continued security. When things inevitably take a turn for the worse, I'll be able to prevent anyone from hurting you, not to mention secure the items necessary to maintain your health. Wouldn't you agree that that's a good cause?"

Izuku fiddles with a strand of his hair. He doesn’t care much for his own wellbeing, that much is true, but if the change his brother predicts does come to pass, well… it wouldn't be so bad to have a bit of firepower on their side. Granted, only if he were actually willing to just stop at that.

"You talk about people acting to change the current world order like you wouldn't do so yourself," Izuku remarks. "I think you'd probably be the first to make a power grab, all things considered."

Hisashi grins, and the expression,  though obviously intended to be friendly, sends shivers down Izuku’s spine. "And what would be so bad about that? There are advantages, I'd imagine, to being to the brother of the most powerful person in Japan."

"Not any that I'd want." Izuku allows some genuine fear to creep into his voice. He can't imagine that his brother is beyond empathy. "Please tell me you're joking. You're legitimately scaring me right now, Hisashi."

Something flashes across Hisashi's face (Izuku thinks it's either disappointment, resentment, or resolve, though he can't be certain which) before it returns to a mask of friendly, even tempered neutrality.

"Alright, I'm joking." 

Izuku detects the use of the loophole, though he doesn't address it aloud. It seems he can't convince his brother of anything, so he figures he might as well just keep quiet. It'll be easier to sabotage Hisashi in the future if he thinks Izuku is compliant.

But it won't ever come to that. At least he seriously hopes it won't.

"Glad to hear it."

There's a knock at the door. "Yoichi, I don't hear you practicing. I'd suggest you get to it unless you'd rather I give you another pursuit to occupy your time."

When Izuku had, once, refused to practice in his youth, his mother had put him to performing taxing physical tasks around the house. These had included painting the siding, trimming the tree in their front yard, and washing her car, all of which had proven extremely grueling with his weak constitution. She'd only let him stop when, eventually, he'd fainted.

"You should go." Izuku suggests.

Hisashi rises, but not without glaring at the closed door first. It's a terrifying expression, and one Izuku rarely has the displeasure of seeing, luckily enough.

"We'll continue this discussion later."

Izuku isn't sure how to take that assertion, especially considering that he feels he's already said everything that warrants saying on the topic of Hisashi's recent exploits in ability allocation. But he doesn't stop him as he leaves, so he supposes the conversation is over either way.

Izuku wakes up to the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him out of sleep and back into awareness.

"I'm sorry to ruin your nap, Izuku, but the staff say it's time for you to be discharged. They don't want to rush you out, but they are a bit short on rooms at the moment, and we've already overstayed our welcome by a bit."

He sits up in bed, attempting to blink some of the after-nap disorientation from his blurry eyes. It takes him a moment to recognize the hospital, and even longer to remember why he's there, but once he does, he immediately wishes he were back asleep.

Or at least he would, if it weren’t for that odd dream.

It had been a bit more in line with what he was familiar with, viewing the vestiges' memories while dormant rather than awake. But there had been a few distinct differences as well, some of which had been more than a little disturbing.

He'd viewed the memory from the direct perspective of The First, of course, but even odder had been his mind's choice of facial substitution.

When One For All altered his memories, it had caused him to recall his own mother's appearance where the mothers of the vestiges were involved. Which made sense, because each filled the same familial roles within each respective individual's life.

But replacing All For One with his father? Izuku can hardly think of an adequate justification for that. But even so, the appearance of the teenager in his dream matched old photos he's seen of his father exactly, and the voices were undeniably the same.

They have some similarities based on what Izuku had seen in the memory, sure. Their speech patterns, posture, and expressions were nearly identical. 

But he highly doubts that they truly share so many traits; assuming so much would pass the threshold of believable coincidence. It's far more likely that any resemblance beyond the superficial had been generated by his brain to fill in the gaps between two very disparate identities, or perhaps to make up for missing info The First can't actively recall.

Either way, he hopes the connection doesn't stick. He doesn't want anyone he cares about to be associated with All For One, especially not someone he's likely to see on a daily basis.

His new condition has already begun to affect his relationship with his mother, if it extends to his father as well, he's not sure how he's meant to react. Just another anxiety to add to his growing collection.

"It's okay," Izuku assures, though he doesn't say anything more than that.

He notices his mother's brow crease with worry, but he doesn't make any effort to console her. There's enough reasons, both real and projected, to be upset with her, that he doesn't really want to.

A nurse gives him the usual speech about broken bones. He's supposed to keep his cast dry, which he already knows. He shouldn't scratch under it, even though his arm will be itchy during healing, which he also knows. He has to wear the cast until his bones fuse back together. Yes, obviously. Does he look like an idiot?

After the third assurance, Izuku actually verbally snaps at the nurse, and both he and his mother look so taken aback that he immediately apologizes afterward. Both parties maintain their concerned expressions.

It's only later, after both of them have silently piled into her rental car and pulled out of the parking lot, that she says anything about it.

"Have you been spending more time with Bakugo lately?"

The question catches Izuku off-guard. "No. About the same amount I usually do. What made you ask that?"

"Oh." A drop of rain hits the windshield. "Well, it's just that back in there, when the nurse was giving instructions, well… you sounded exactly like him."

Izuku narrows his eyes, sinking down into the passenger seat. "Kacchan isn't the only person on Earth who's allowed to get pissed off. She was being fucking annoying."

His mother's head swings around, her expression wide-eyed. The gaze lands and lingers for a few moments before a horn honks somewhere behind them.

As her eyes return to the road, his mother slams on the breaks, reacting, just in time, to an upcoming red light. 

Izuku's head nearly collides with the glove box before he braces his uninjured arm out to prevent the motion, though his seatbelt still digs uncomfortably into his chest before he's thrown back against his seat.

"Fucking shit, the Hell was that?"

Now his mother's expression has gone from surprised to distressed. "Your father and I did not raise you to speak like that, Izuku! I understand that you're upset with my decision, but that's no excuse to be vulgar!"

Izuku frowns. He hadn't been trying to be rude, just honest. He's always blunt. And besides, his mother's never cared about his cursing before. But it isn't a difficult habit to correct, not for one car ride, at least.

Still, he figures, it can't hurt to be a little sardonic.

"Okay. No more swearing or you send us into oncoming traffic. Got it. There's no need to be such a bitch about it." 

Izuku realizes his mistake almost immediately. Unfortunately, so does his mother.

The turn signal is on so fast that Izuku doesn't even see his mother flip it. And then, suddenly, they're parked in the back of a largely abandoned commercial lot. 

The rain outside has rapidly evolved from a dribble to a torrent, and it fills what would otherwise be the pregnant silence of the car with its thrum.

The two sit for a few minutes, like that, before his mother steeples her hands against the wheel, bowing her head atop them with a deep exhale.

"I'm sorry, Izuku, I really am. I know this is the first place you've ever really felt accepted. I'm not stupid, I saw what was going on at Aldera, bruises and all. I contacted your teachers multiple times, then your principal… at one point, I even went to the school board. It was never enough to change things. I still regret that I never did more."

"Mom, I-"

"Which is why, even though you're doing so much better at Yuuei, I refuse to stand by and let a problem like this continue to develop. I talked to All Might and he promised that he'd fix things, but he hasn't. And this time, I'm not going to wait for two more failed attempts at communication before I take direct action."

Izuku frowns. He is miffed about the fact that his mother is pulling him out of Yuuei, but he understands why she's doing it. He never said he didn't. So why is she reacting like this, out of nowhere? Did he do something uncharacteristic?

He has absolutely no idea.

"Yeah, I know," he replies. "I'm just a bit on edge, sorry."

Hopefully, that explanation is enough to justify whatever he did to raise a red flag. 

He watches as his mother lifts her head. There are tears in her eyes, sure, but she isn't bawling. That's a good sign.

She wipes her eyes. "Alright. As long as you understand… just please don't shock me like that again. Especially not while I'm driving."

Izuku nods, but he has no idea what he's agreeing to. What about his behavior shocked her?

"I was going to head straight home tonight, but… if you'd like to get a few things from your dorm first, I'm sure your teachers wouldn't be opposed."

This is an olive branch. His mother is offering him another opportunity to speak to his friends before…. well, he doesn't want to be negative, but it's very unlikely that Izuku will be able to see his former classmates often considering Yuuei's schedule.

He's not sure he wants to see them after what happened the day before (how will he even look them in the eyes?), but there are a few things he wants to get.

He checks the clock on the car's dashboard. It's 24:00, which means that most of his peers are very likely to be asleep, if not otherwise holed up in their dorms for the night.

"That sounds nice."

As soon as they park, his mother makes it clear that she's going to let him go in alone, which he's grateful for. He could alert Aizawa before reentering campus, but the way he sees it, the fewer people who know about his visit, the better.

He isn't even certain that his mother has the authority to withdraw him from the dorms so suddenly, much less school, and he wouldn't be surprised to hear that Principal Nezu wants to keep him at Yuuei for as long as possible considering what he knows about One For All. But that would cause a confrontation, and Izuku would really rather avoid sparking any arguments if he can, at least for the time being.

He's more or less reached his limit of stressful situations for one day.

The gate lets him in without issue upon sensing his ID card, which he's happy to discover is still very much valid.

He stops when he reaches the entrance to the 1A common rooms, hand poised above the doorknob. Someone might be in there, enjoying their night, completely mentally unprepared for the awkward arrival of an unexpected classmate. But then again, it's just as likely that no one is.

The door swings open to reveal Jiro, Denki, and Mina seated in a close-knit chain on the room's largest couch. They appear to be playing cards.

Izuku shuts the door as softly as he can, hoping that no one will notice if he sneaks by. He isn't so lucky.

"Midoriya?"

The voice is Mina's, but it's Jiro who stands up and turns to face him. Denki places a hand on her arm as if to calm her, but she almost immediately bats it away.

"What the Hell happened out there?"

Her voice trembles with outrage, and Izuku nearly flinches as it reaches him. Of course she’s angry, she has every right to be. And she definitely deserves an answer. Izuku wishes he could think of a good one. 

"I don't know."

Tears begin to run down her cheeks, but before they grow any more intense, Jiro raises an arm to block her eyes, storming off in the direction of the nearest stairwell. After she's disappeared from sight for a few moments, Izuku hears a door slam.

"I should-" Denki points in the direction of her departure, receiving a quick nod from Mina before rushing off to follow.

Izuku can't do anything but stare after them. "I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone would still be up, or I wouldn't have come."

Mina shakes her head, using a hand to gesture him over. "No need to apologize. We all know you'd never do what you did on purpose. Jiro is just so close to Momo y’know, and she blames herself, a little bit, for what happened. She really doesn't want to make you feel any worse, you just… reminded her of things, I think."

That makes sense. Izuku imagines that cards are a good distraction, granted the person who caused the event you're trying to push into the back of your mind doesn't walk in on the game like a complete idiot.

He declines Mina's invitation with a shake of his head. "It's okay, I'm just dropping in to get some things."

"Get some things? What do you mean?"

Izuku fiddles with a strand of loose string on his shirt hem. "I'm leaving Yuuei. Permanently. I need to get some stuff from my dorm first though."

Mina's eyes widen. "No way. Tell me you're making a really stupid and insensitive joke right now, please. There's no way they're expelling you for this."

"They aren't. That I know of. My parents are pulling me out."

"You can't leave," She states, voice hoarse. "We already don't know when Momo is coming back. It- it won't even be like class without you."

All Izuku can do is shrug. "I'm going to try to change their minds. I think I might have a chance."

That doesn't sound convincing, not even to him. Mina's gaze turns downcast.

"Oh," is the only thing she says in response.

Izuku is hit with another wave of guilt, intense and dreadful, and suddenly, he wants to run.

"I'm so, so sorry." When Izuku feels his throat start to seize up, he shoves down his emotions. No crying, crying shows weakness, and he isn't weak.

Before Mina can say anything in response, he turns and rushes off towards his room, infinitely grateful that the boy's side of the dorm has its own separate set of stairs from the girl's.

He shoves what he needs into his backpack, his laptop, notebooks, toothbrush and toothpaste, and a couple of his casual outfits, before slinging it over his shoulder. He gives his dorm room one last once over and can’t help but feel a tad nostalgic. Then, he shakes his head. He’ll be back for the rest of his things later. Right now, he should be focusing on leaving.

Mercifully, no one, including Mina, is in the common rooms during his departure, and he’s able to make it through the grounds and back to his mother’s rental car without interruption.

“How’d it go?” She asks, voice faint as he opens a door to toss in his backpack. He knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s a bit resentful that she gave him the option to visit. Not that she could’ve known how terrible it would make him feel. Not even he had been able to predict that. But even so.

“Fine,” Izuku responds. 

He doesn’t sit in the passenger’s seat.

Chapter Text

The drive home is fairly uneventful, albeit more than a bit awkward.

Inko attempts to talk with Izuku more than once, first asking after the status of his arm and later offering him an emotional outlet in the case he might need one. No matter how genuine her words, all her son offers in return are cold and clipped one-syllable responses.

She knows she should punish him in some way for his earlier behavior. That's what most parents do when their children lie, or curse, or act out at school. It's certainly how Mitsuki handles her son's less savory behavior.

But Inko isn't Mitsuki, and Izuku definitely isn't Katsuki. Unlike her friend, Inko has never been good with discipline, and despite how imposing she knows he can seem on occasion, neither has Hisashi. Fortunately (or perhaps, Inko is now beginning to think, unfortunately) their careers as parents had never called for the skill during Izuku’s childhood.

Sweet and compliant as could be, Izuku had previously never done anything to warrant a glare much less a grounding, and on more than one occasion during his youth, she'd considered the idea that her son might've been far more mature than she was. Now that Izuku is finally rebelling against one of her decisions, she has no idea how she's meant to react.

Besides, she can't help but think, he has been through something very traumatic, hasn’t he? Hospitalizing two of one's friends and being pulled from school on the same day can't be an easy hand to be dealt. So maybe it's fine if he rebels a bit, especially if it offers him some catharsis. 

So she doesn't say a thing when, upon arriving home, Izuku slams one of the car's backseat doors and disappears up their apartment's designated exterior stairwell. Nor does she comment when she enters to find the two's shared space empty, and her son's door locked.

He needs his space. That's typical for a teenage boy. Even if it isn't really typical for Izuku. It isn't anything worrying, certainly. But even if there is absolutely nothing wrong, it can't hurt to put a pot of calming herbal tea on the stove.

You don't have to be anxious to want some camomile, after all. Or to pace the room. Inko is just restless because she's been immobile in the car for so long, she's sure of it. And it isn’t like her hands only shake when she's stressed. She does tend to get a bit anemic when she forgets to take her multivitamins.

It's only once she's poured herself a mug and nestled into the couch that she finally acknowledges the fact that she's completely and hopelessly out of her element. 

The decision she's made is the right one, of that much she's certain. Not only has she been considering the option for some time now (the sports festival scared her half to death, then the horrifying predicament during Summer camp, and she doesn't even want to consider his part in taking down a prominent drug cartel) but when she ran the idea by Hisashi, she had been granted enthusiastic and unwavering support as well.

That factor had been instrumental in her final decision; not only was Hisashi historically impartial and logical when she asked for his advice on difficult situations, but he was wholly devoted to Izuku's best interest as well. If he gave her the go-ahead, then the choice must be the right one, she’s absolutely certain of it.

It had actually been his words that had brought the idea back to her attention in the first place. She'd been sitting in a hospital waiting room, tears running down her cheeks as she updated her husband on their son's most recent predicament.

Hisashi had been concerned of course, asking all the questions that Inko hadn't proactively answered and delivering heartfelt assurances that Izuku would recover, that the situation wasn't her fault. After she'd calmed down (as much as she was capable of considering the circumstances), he'd made a comment that had really stuck with her. That he'd hoped that after so many repeated incidents, Yuuei would've learned how to properly prevent one easily managed student from gravely injuring themselves under school supervision.

It was something she'd thought often enough herself, but to hear someone else affirm her concerns had been far more validating than she'd expected. Not to mention that her husband's voice had contained a thin layer of malice, malice that she'd felt, but never given a platform to for fear of upsetting Izuku (except for once, and of course she'd backed down, she always did).

Izuku, who worshipped Yuuei. Izuku, who wanted to be a hero so badly that even when he wore several new scars and fresh bandages home on his visitation days, still maintained a bright smile and positive outlook. Izuku, who had never given up on anything in his life, even when it hurt him terribly.

So she'd shared her concerns for her son's mental wellbeing along with stories of his most recent brushes with mortal peril, only posing the question regarding Izuku’s academic relocation once she'd made her own opinions clear. Her husband's agreement had been all she'd needed to pull the trigger.

Inko has always been rather indecisive, a trait which she's certain stems in large part from a lack of self confidence. Hisashi is the opposite, always so self-assured and stable, and as much as she envies his temperament, she's often glad for the difference, mainly because she suspects it plays a large role in their compatibility.

While Inko detests the pressure of choice, Hisashi revels in it, and she almost always finds herself asking for his opinion before making any big decisions. And although Hisashi is never forceful with his advice, Inko always finds herself taking it, usually on the grounds that a single one of his suggestions had yet to provide a dissatisfactory outcome.

Except when he'd advised her to discourage Izuku from applying to Yuuei, she supposes. But now it seems as though even that had been the proper call.

He's never said so directly, especially never to Izuku, but Inko can tell her husband disapproves of their son's choice of career. She assumes that his silence stems from the same place as hers; Izuku has made it clear on multiple occasions that no other future appeals to him, and the very idea of it seems to make him happier than anything else in the world.

Which is why she has yet to tell him that she doesn't just want him to quit attending Yuuei. That she'd rather he gave up his dreams of heroics entirely. In truth, she has no idea how she's supposed to break the news. 

Some part of her hopes that Hisashi will be willing to do it for her. He'd offered to take the blame for Inko’s first controversial decision, after all. But he and Izuku are so close, and she'd rather not do anything to drive a wedge between them. If someone has to be the bad guy, better it be her, who's been physically present enough in Izuku’s life to easily recover from any disagreements than Hisashi, who hasn't.

Inko takes a sip of tea, using her free hand to switch on the television. The program is something brainless, a cooking show with several elimination rounds and a generous cash prize for the remaining contestant, the kind of entertainment she can watch without really comprehending.

She's two episodes in, engrossed in a heated rivalry between two very competitive pastry chefs, when she hears footsteps behind her. Instinctively, she dials down the television's volume, turning slightly to greet Izuku. It's only when she meets his gaze, still dark and stormy, that she recalls how irritable he is.

Still, he might be more responsive now. There's no harm in trying. "I didn't expect to see you up so late, don't you usually go to bed around ten or so?"

There's no malice in Inko’s voice, she's simply trying to make conversation, but even so, Izuku avoids her gaze.

"Yes, because of school." There's a pointed pause after that. "Do you want me to go to sleep?"

His tone is curt, not angry, but there's something boiling below its surface. Inko knows her son well enough to deduce that much.

"No, Dear, it's fine if you'd rather stay up. I was just checking in. Are you doing okay?"

Izuku shrugs, causing something to rustle with the movement. It's then that Inko notices a trash bag slung over his shoulder, held in place by his good hand. Through the plastic, Inko can make out the outline of a few All Might action figures. Alarm bells begin to ring in her head.

"What's in there?" She asks, trying not to let her worry show. If Izuku is disposing of his All Might merchandise, then she isn't just worried for her son. She'll need to start preparing for the apocalypse.

"Um, it's some stuff from my room. I'm just moving it for now. It was taking up a lot of space."

She isn't sure whether she buys that explanation or not, but she's at least relieved to know that nothing is being thrown away.

"Feel free to put it in the spare room. I think there's an empty shelf in the closet."

Izuku nods gravely, heading off, with purpose, in the direction of the apartment's guest room. Inko takes another sip of tea, and her hands tremble as she lowers the mug back onto its coaster.

Then, her phone begins to buzz.

"Who could that be at this time of night?" She questions the empty room absentmindedly, plucking the device from its place beside her mug.

She frantically rushes to answer as soon as she lays eyes on the caller ID, almost dropping the phone twice in the process. "Hello, Hisashi? Why are you calling so late? Did something go wrong? Are you still going to be able to make it on time?"

"Yes, everything's fine." Inko relaxes, almost reflexively. His voice is calm, which means nothing has gone horribly wrong with the healing process. Not that she was expecting that kind of outcome, but she's always been something of a pessimist. "In fact, I have some good news to share."

Inko grins in relief. "Well, don't keep it to yourself, Heaven knows I could use some good news right now."

"Hm, I don't like what that's implying. Is Izuku doing alright?"

She can't stop herself from sighing. "Well, physically he seems to be fine, but emotionally… I'm sure some of it is because he's so concerned for his friends, but moving schools can be very difficult as well, especially for someone his age. He's been understandably resentful."

"Really? That's unlike him. Have you tried talking things over? He's typically very receptive to discussion."

"Yes, usually but…" Inko glances over her shoulder at the hallway. "I think he's taking things much harder than he has in the past. Izuku has been brushing me off since we left the hospital, and when we were in the car, he actually swore at me. He's never reacted like this to anything before."

"That's certainly concerning," Hisashi responds, and then, in a lower voice, likely more for his benefit than Inko’s, he adds "It's far more dire than I'd anticipated."

"Mhm," She hums, nodding her head despite the lack of a present audience. "I had no idea he'd react like this either. Well, I suppose I could've guessed, but… Hisashi, do you really think we're making the right call here?"

"Definitely," he assures. "It will be difficult for him now, but I'm certain he'll come to appreciate the change in the long term. His health will thank him for it, at the very least. Has he done anything else especially unusual recently?"

Inko thinks for a moment. "He acted a bit off during his last visitation period two days ago, but it wasn't anything seriously concerning. Oh, and I suppose he switched shoes, which was a bit odd, and just a few minutes ago he decided to relocate what looked to be most of his room's All Might decor. And of course you already know about everything that happened in class yesterday."

Now it's Hisashi's turn to sigh. "Alright, that settles it then. I'll be flying home tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Inko sputters. "But I thought you needed a full week to properly recover?"

"In theory, yes, but you'd be surprised what medical advances are possible with the right tools. Besides, I can hardly leave you to deal with this situation alone, especially after being absent for as long as I have. I've been unfair to both of you these past few years, but I plan to do everything in my power to rectify it."

"There's no need to feel guilty," Inko chides. "You know how grateful I am for your devotion to your work, even if I do miss you dearly when you're away. It's because of you that Izuku and I never have to worry about money. And our child has been a joy to raise, even if he has become a bit of a handful in his teenage years. As much as I would've loved to watch him grow alongside you, I completely understand why you've been away. There's nothing to make up for."

"Thank you for your understanding," Hisashi responds, and Inko has to stop herself from laughing. As endearing as she finds Hisashi's near-perpetual formality, she has to remind herself not to tease him for it in more serious moments.

"So, is your changed time of arrival the only good news you've got for me, or do I have something else to look forward to?"

"As a matter of fact, it isn't. The job I'll be taking on in Japan is quite a ways away from our apartment, so for the time being, I've been approved to work from home."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Inko can't help but grin. "I can't wait to tell Izuku, he'll be so excited!"

"Actually, I was wondering if you might keep this information between you and I for the time being, especially regarding my earlier departure. I'd like to surprise him, if possible."

"Certainly! I hope it's enough to cheer him up, I'd hate for him to be this despondent when you get home tomorrow."

"I'm sure his emotional state will improve with time. As I've said before, you've made all the right decisions, and I'm sure Izuku will come to realize that soon. All you can do until then is maintain a positive outlook."

"Right," Inko nods her head, her own resolution restored. "I know you're busy, so I certainly don't want to keep you too long. Have a restful night, and don't push yourself any getting ready for tomorrow! I'll be sad if you cancel on me, but I'll feel much worse if I find out you've injured yourself trying to get here on time."

"I'll keep that in mind." Inko can hear the smile in her husband's voice at that. "I hope you have a good night as well. I love you."

"I love you too," Inko says, and against her better judgment, she feels tears begin to form in her eyes, because it's the first time she's had the luxury of saying it casually since a time when she wasn't certain she'd ever be able to say it again. "Goodbye. Until tomorrow."

She hangs up as quickly as she can, because she knows that if she doesn't do it immediately, she might never. It's difficult to say goodbye, especially after learning, all too intimately, that every goodbye she shares with her husband could very well be the last.

After she's composed herself (a process that includes finishing a long-paused episode of a trivial cooking show as well as an entire mug of chamomile tea), Inko treads as lightly as she can into the hallway bordering her son's room. She's pleased to see that no light peeks out from between the floor and Izuku’s door, and when she presses her ear to it, she hears nothing but white noise and deep, rhythmic breathing.

Sighing in relief, she walks the short distance to the apartment's spare room, curious to see what exactly her son has decided to relocate. When she flips the light switch, her eyes almost immediately go wide.

She'd expected to only see the garbage bag Izuku had previously been toting, maybe an additional two or three figures at most, but much to her shock, the room's previously empty floor space now hosts a set of haphazardly arranged red shoes, a neatly folded All Might themed bedspread, several rolled and rubber-band bound posters, and a generous smattering of full trash bags.

For a moment, all she can do is stare in utter confusion. Did All Might and Izuku have some sort of disagreement? Is he being blamed, in part, for Izuku’s removal from Yuuei? Or is it just that Izuku’s sense of style has changed? And why the shoes, of all things?

She shuts the door, repeating Hisashi's advice in her head. Maintain a positive outlook. Right. She can definitely do that. 

After all, she only has to hold out alone until tomorrow.

"Can I go to the mall?"

Izuku watches as his mother cranes her neck to look at the kitchen clock. It's the first time he's initiated a conversation with her since she decided to pull him out of Yuuei, and he can tell that she's concealing hope behind her contemplative frown.

"Hm... if you're back before dinner, then I suppose it isn't a problem. Do you want me to drive you?"

"No," Izuku answers a bit too quickly, causing his mother's expression to turn hastily from happy to hurt. "I can take public transit. You won't have to buy gas, and we're already paying for a train pass anyway. It'd be stupid not to use it."

His mother's frown deepens. "Well, if you're sure… do you need any money?"

Izuku begins to shake his head, but then thinks better of it. One of the reasons he's upset is because he's being pulled from school. The reason he was in school is because he's too young to have a dedicated job. Therefore, no matter how much his mind protests, it's very unlikely that he has the personal funds to buy everything on his shopping list.

He's found, since waking up that morning and almost shattering his window in a panic, that aside from notes and written reminders, the best way to keep in touch with reality is logic and reasoning. If he focuses on the things he knows for certain and works outward, then he's much more likely to come to reasonable conclusions.

It's a relief that, at the very least, the high-grade sleep-aid medication he used the night before did its work in delivering an entirely dreamless night's rest. He doesn’t want any other visions of the past substituting the people he thinks he knows with the ones he actually does, especially not if the people in the former category are villains.

"Yes, if you're okay with giving me some."

She nods, reaching one hand into her purse. "What all do you plan on buying?"

"A few things. Some shoes, a notebook, a new bedspread, and a keyboard."

His mother's hand abruptly freezes halfway through retrieving her wallet. "Izuku, that's… quite a bit. I'm not saying that you can't buy all the things you've listed, but some of them are fairly expensive. I understand the notebook, but, um… do you think you could explain the others?"

Izuku frowns. He hadn't planned on actually telling his mother what he was going to buy, but that had been before he'd realized that he was financially dependent on her. He has no idea how he's meant to explain that his shoes send him into spiraling panic attacks on occasion, or that having an All Might themed room makes him feel incredibly uncomfortable and conceited, or that he thinks playing the piano is the only way he's going to maintain even a semblance of decent mental health going forward. So he lies.

"My shoes don't fit anymore. I think maybe I'm about to hit a growth spurt. The bedspread thing… well, don't you think I'm a little old for all the All Might stuff now?"

His mother shrugs, looking about as lost as Izuku feels. "If you think you are, then I'm not going to argue. But what about the keyboard?"

"I picked up a new hobby at school. I was borrowing Yao- uh, a friend's keyboard in the dorms to practice, but I obviously don't have access to it here."

Although it was unintentional, Izuku can tell that his mention of Yaoyorozu has struck a chord with his mother. She hands him her debit card without another word of questioning, and he feels so guilty that he almost gives it back.

"Be safe," She orders. "And don't go to the Musutafu Central Mall, please. I don't feel comfortable sending you there after what happened during your last visit."

Izuku nods, suddenly remembering that a very dangerous criminal is on the loose, and worse, specifically targeting him. "Um, Mom, actually… could you drive me? Just this once?"

His mother's face lights up. "Of course! I was actually about to head to the supermarket anyway, so I'll be out of your hair before you even notice I'm there!"

Izuku offers a small grin in return. He hopes she can’t tell how forced it is. "Sounds good."

The ride is still fairly awkward despite his mother's initial excitement, and once she pulls around the front of the mall complex, he rushes to exit the car as quickly as he can.

For whatever reason, the impression of his mother that he'd gotten at the hospital, built on memories that he now knows to be The First's, has stuck with him, even after a good night's sleep. He doesn’t want to think about how worrying that is.

As soon as Izulu leaves the car, he realizes that the trip is going to be far calmer than he'd bargained for. It's a workday, so the mall is relatively empty aside from a few stay-at-home parents and their children, with no large crowds around to jostle or create excess noise. Strolling around the mall is almost relaxing until he sees, sitting beside a woman on a bench, a very familiar-looking toddler.

"Kotaro." The name is out of his mouth before he can stop himself. 

He knows it isn't Kotaro, of course he does. He made sure that Kotaro was relocated to a home far, far away, where there wouldn't even be a chance of him finding some familiar street and trying to make a run for his old home. He'd threatened to do that, when Izuku had first broken the news to him.

But this child has the same spiky, black hair that he does, and it doesn't even matter that the eyes are different, not one bit, because Izuku is already remembering how he used to pick Kotaro up to fly laps around the front yard (never too high, Izuku knew better, just at a nice, low hover), and how he'd taken him to the lake to teach him how to fish (he hadn't caught anything, he hadn't been patient enough, but it had been so cute when he'd tried), and when they'd shopped for shoes for the first time (he'd insisted on the most garish pair of light up sneakers imaginable, and of course Izuku had caved and bought them).

And suddenly, in spite of himself, Izuku is crying, wildly, uncontrollably, and that makes it even more embarrassing when the child's mother notices him staring and hustles them away, shooting dirty glances over her shoulder all the while.

Izuku heads to the bathroom to compose himself, and after using a whole stack of paper towels in the process of wiping his face, finally stops bawling long enough to maintain at least the facsimile of a normal mien. After that, he decides that walking aimlessly and enjoying the day really isn't worth the potential emotional turmoil. He heads straight to a shoe store.

He finds a set of shoes he likes easily enough; it's essentially the same as the pair he's been wearing, but in the correct size and a few minor design alterations. Everything seems as if it's going fine until he reaches the counter. Of course he would have to pick the store with an All Might promotional campaign currently underway.

Even in retirement, All Might is still ridiculously popular, and Izuku knows enough from memories that he can actually tell aren't his that the brand deals his agency set up prior to the incident in Kamino are still very much viable. Even if this ad campaign wasn't formed prior to All Might's retirement, it's still very possible that his advertisement team is still actively working to wrack up royalties.

It's not so much that the poster makes him feel conceited the way his bedroom decor had as it makes his brain run in convoluted, headache-inducing circles. Because he remembers posing for that photoshoot, but at the same time, he knows he wasn't there. Except he was. But he definitely wasn't. Still though-

"Hello, sir? Do you want a bag for these, or not?"

Shaken from his stupor, all Izuku can do is nod. A bit of lingering miasma still clouds his thoughts as he exits the outlet, and it remains even as he's checking out at the mall's only music store.

The cashier asks him some questions regarding his experience and music preference, and he answers completely on autopilot. He isn't sure whether anything he responds with is actually from his own memory bank, or the vestiges', so it's less stressful to speak without processing his own words. Maybe he was always a fan of alternative rock, and maybe he wasn't. In the face of his other memory malfunctions, he doesn't really think it matters.

When he reaches the department store, he purchases the first bedding set of the proper size he comes across, which just happens to be a dull, uninspiring beige variant. He can't really bring himself to care; after his earlier breakdown, all he wants to do is go home.

He decides to wait until later to purchase the journal as soon as he realizes that the mall's office supply store's theme relies heavily on the color red.

It's a relief when he finally settles down on a bench, dropping a myriad of oversized shopping bags to lie at his feet. He's athletic, of course, but the blood circulation in his good arm is definitely starting to curse his most recent life choices.

When he fishes through his pockets for his phone, he's left completely exasperated to find that it is, once more, absolutely nowhere to be found. In his rush to escape an awkward conversation with his mother, he must’ve left it behind in the car.

"Well, fuck." Izuku mutters darkly, already gathering his things to enter the nearest store. 

If he doesn't have a phone, he supposes he can always borrow one. Izuku catches his reflection on the surface of the outlet’s glass doors mid-push, and freezes solidly in place.

Everything about the person looking back at him is wrong. He's supposed to be taller- no, shorter, or maybe- and he doesn’t have freckles, or curly hair, or green eyes, but at the same time-

"Hey, Kid, move it. Some people actually want to use the doors instead of just admiring them."

Izuku wordlessly steps aside, eyes still locked, unmoving, on the stranger in the glass that all known laws of physics say should be him, but very clearly isn't.

"No apology? Figures."

The man (Izuku realizes now that it was a man) pushes past, causing the reflection to sway from side to side as he jostles the door. Izuku is snapped from his trance.

He sprints for the mall's exit, not minding the people who grunt or grumble in annoyance as he speeds by. His mother will realize he left his phone, he reasons. He doesn’t need to ask anyone for help. 

And he definitely doesn't need to pass any more reflective surfaces.

But even so, as he stands alone outside the mall's entrance, he can't stop himself from thinking about his appearance. How wrong it looked. How disturbed, and uncomfortable, and alien it made him feel. And even worse, how he has absolutely no idea what he's actually supposed to look like in the first place. How all his mind can conjure in place of a proper face is an amalgam of shifting features, each right and wrong in unique yet equally distressing ways.

At one point, he looks down to adjust the position of a bag on his arm and catches sight of his hand in his peripheral vision. He's painfully aware that it isn't supposed to be scarred like it is, or touched by small smatterings of freckles at the knuckles, and that it's definitely either larger or smaller than it's meant to be. He adjusts his grip so that plastic encases the appendage entirely, casting his gaze far off into the parking lot.

He doesn't know how much time passes before his mother arrives, but when she exits the car to help place his items in the backseat, she's obviously distraught. She scolds him, noncommittally, for being careless, and for overworking himself, and for making her worry. 

For the entire duration of the tirade, all he does is stand and stare. He thinks that makes her worry more, and he isn't sure whether that makes him feel guilty or not.

It's only after they've both sat down that Izuku manages to speak.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

His voice sounds dead even to him. It's monotone, and drained, and dull, and based on his mother's expression, he has to assume that it isn't at all normal for him.

"It's fine. I know you didn't mean to." 

His mother's voice, like his, is lost. But unlike his, it's also apologetic.

She hands him his phone. "Someone kept calling you, but I didn't want to be nosy, so I didn't check the ID. I'm guessing it's probably one of your friends."

Izuku braces himself as he turns on his phone, sliding down the notification bar with eyes glued shut. When he opens them, he's more than a little shocked.

It seems as though nearly everyone he knows has tried to contact him in some form or fashion, and he isn't really all that surprised to find out that All Might has contacted him more times than anyone else. What gives him pause is the two runners up, Aizawa (whose number he was given with the specific instruction that it was to be used in emergencies only), and oddly enough, Mirio (they do text sometimes, though they absolutely never call, and even then they never really do more than exchange the occasional meme or plan Eri's babysitting schedule). Even more disconcerting, all three seem to have left him text messages following his initial failure to respond.

After a moment of indecision, he decides to open Aizawa's text first. He hasn't even read halfway through before his blood begins to run cold.

Aizawa: Eri was visited last night by a stranger whose appearance matches that of the villain from the Kamino Incident. She's unharmed, but her quirk doesn't appear to be functioning, and the villain in question is still at large. We aren’t done assessing the situation, so this information isn't yet available to the public, but I thought you would appreciate being one of the first to know considering how close the two of you are.

Listlessly, Izuku exits the screen, switching to view All Might's texts. He's sent several.

All Might: All For One is confirmed to have visited Yuuei last night, and we're fairly certain he stole Eri's quirk. Please respond as soon as you can, I need to know that you're safe.

All Might: I'm trying to stay optimistic, but I'd really appreciate a reply soon if you can manage one. Call or text is fine, just please send an update.

All Might: I'm really starting to worry here, Kid. Please text back.

Izuku fumbles to type out a reply, thumbs completely numb. The car radio is drowned out by the hammering of blood in his ears.

Me: Sorry, was at the mall. Forgot my phone in the car. I'm fine, don't worry about me. Is Eri okay?

The response is near-instantaneous.

All Might: She seems to be alright, just a bit shaken up. My apologies for overreacting, I should've known you'd be busy today. 

All Might: All For One has never been this direct before, and I was concerned that he might try to locate you. I'm not sure if he's still in Musutafu, but it's best to be on your guard. Try to stay at home if you can, I've already asked some friends in the police force to patrol the area for suspicious activity. I'm afraid that's all I can do for now.

Me: Thank you, and don't apologize, I'm grateful for the concern. I'll be as vigilant as I can.

Suddenly, Izuku feels someone watching him and turns. His mother is glancing at him during the lull allowed to her by a stoplight, her expression brimming with concern. As soon as he meets her eyes, she averts her gaze, obviously trying to hide the behavior.

She probably thinks he's upset over friendship drama or his upcoming change in schools. He doesn’t particularly feel inclined to correct her. Knowing the truth will only worry her more, and besides, it isn't as though there's anything she could do to better the situation. He swaps over to texting Mirio.

Mirio: Hey Midoriya, Aizawa said he'd tell you what happened, but I just wanted to give you a bit more detail! Eri is totally cool and very much uninjured, apparently whatever happened wasn't super traumatic or violent or anything. The most she has to say is that some weird-looking guy came to see her last night, touched her forehead once, and then left. Her quirk seems to be dormant or something, but I’m sure you agree that that’s a much better outcome than if anything violent had happened. She'll be sleeping in the same room as Aizawa for the foreseeable future, so it seems like things'll be ok.

Mirio: She wanted me to tell you hi, and also send you this pic of you she drew. The little green things in the foreground are bunnies, and apparently, it's very important that you know that. Seriously dude, if you text back a response for her DO NOT call them bushes. She'll tell you that you have no artistic vision, and it will make you cry. I say this from experience :(

Izuku doesn’t open the attachment. He knows that no matter what the picture looks like, all he'll be able to think about is how it doesn't look like him. Eri's drawings are never incredibly accurate, she is seven after all, but they are usually colored correctly.

Me: Thanks for the warning. Tell her I love it, and that I'm very proud of her for being so brave! I'm sorry I can't be there to help out.

Mirio: It's no sweat, you're in a tough situation rn and everyone completely understands. Well I guess Eri doesn't really, but you know what I mean. It seems like your teachers are gonna try convincing your parents to let you back tho, just a heads up. Fingers crossed that things go well.

Izuku shuts off his phone without sending another text. He's never seen his mother as set on anything as she seems to be regarding his academic relocation. The fact that she hasn't gone back on her word yet definitely isn't a good sign. Though, of course, he has far more important things to worry about.

All For One isn't just out of prison. He's somewhere nearby. And for whatever reason, he has Rewind. Which means that not only is Izuku in a staggering amount of personal danger, but that all the progress they've made towards restoring Mirio's quirk is completely void as well.

He must've known that when he texted Izuku, yet he was still so cheerful and optimistic regardless. It makes Izuku feel inadequate knowing that Mirio, who is going through arguably just as difficult a situation as he is, has managed to remain positive and upbeat while Izuku has already begun to fall apart.

It's moments like these that Izuku questions why he was the one who ended up with One For All instead of Mirio. Maybe, if his mother doesn't change her mind soon, Mirio will end up receiving it after all.

If Izuku lives long enough to give it to him, that is.

When his mother pulls into her designated parking spot in their apartment's community lot, her expression transforms from dejected to excited almost on a dime, and it takes a moment for Izuku to realize why. The parking spot next to her's, which is usually reserved for his father, is currently occupied.

"He said he wasn't getting home until dinnertime!" She scoffs, though she doesn't really sound angry. "Of course he'd try and surprise me too. I didn't even finish tidying up the living room."

"Dad's home?"

His mother nods, and suddenly, Izuku is actually glad to be where he is. Maybe his day, as chaotic as it's been, actually does have a silver lining.

His father will definitely understand why he needs to go back to Yuuei, he’s always been on the same wavelength of Izuku. Izuku and his father will convince his mother of what needs to be done, and he’ll return to school, and All Might and Gran Torino will help him get whatever is happening with his memory under control, and then they'll take care of All For One, and everything will finally just be normal again. He knows it's an extremely optimistic outlook, but he's sticking to it, because right now, it's all he has. 

Even if it doesn't work out exactly like that, at the very least he'll be able to see his father, which he thinks is a very good consolation prize. Unless his memory decides to act up again, that is. He'll definitely have to avoid mirrors.

"Well, we'd better hurry up. We don't want to keep him waiting, now do we?"

Izuku nods, gathering up his purchases before helping his mother adjust her own grocery bags. Because they're so weighed down, their progress up the stairs is slow, and by the time they reach the front door, Izuku is jittery with anticipation.

His mother opens the door, and the two enter the building. She sees his father before he does.

"Hisashi!" She exclaims, and Izuku turns towards the noise. Inexplicably, he feels adrenaline begin to course through his veins. 

And then, his mind lights on fire.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s senses are heightened, every muscle in his body as tense as a coiled spring. His mind screams at him to act, to run, to hide, to fight, to do anything , but then the memories begin to assault him, crawling their way into the crevices of his brain and flashing, quickly, too quickly to process, too quickly to deny or accept.

He's frozen, frozen by the image of his own gory death, the deaths of countless others, the years of training, of fighting, of hurting, endlessly in loop. He needs to run- no, he needs to fight. He needs to fight, but he can't, because as furious as he is, he's equally terrified, and he can't die, not until he's found someone else to receive his quirk, and there's no one suitable here.

Running is his only option. But his legs are shaking, and his breath is spasming, and his thoughts are a jumbled, adrenaline-fueled mess. He manages to release the death grip he's held on whatever is in his hand (he can't look down, not enough time, hesitation means death), before darting back, never turning, to clutch a hand on the doorknob behind him.

His fingers, far too frantic in their haste, make a mad scramble for their target, but only manage to scratch the wood around it. He's losing seconds, precious seconds, so he turns (there's no choice) to give a visual guide to his ineffective clawing. His hand closes around the doorknob, and for a moment, hope wells up in his chest. He might survive, might escape, there's a chance-

A hand settles on his shoulder. But his heart doesn't jump. In fact, its pace begins to slow.

Over the course of seconds, a blanket of serene, inexplicable calm drapes itself over Izuku.

The change comes gradually at first, then all at once. His body drops its tension, and once the ringing in his ears dies down, he can feel the stream of adrenaline powering his movements cut off.

"It's alright, you aren't in any danger. No one is going to hurt you."

When Izuku looks up at his father, the alarm bells in his head begin to go off once more, but this time, the anxiety is drastically muted. If he doesn't focus on it, he quickly finds, then it becomes background noise as opposed to its earlier status as a wailing siren. No less present, but far easier to ignore.

Once Izuku regains the ability to think in more complex terms than fight or flight, he realizes, with no shortage of mortification, what must've just occurred to provoke his outburst. The dream he'd had in the hospital had formed a lasting link between his father and All For One, merging the two's identities in his memory bank in the waking world as well. 

His mind and body had only been reacting accordingly, working to protect One For All from what they'd incorrectly perceived as the ultimate threat to its continuity. It's an issue, certainly, but also something of a relief. No matter how much his subconscious might protest, Izuku is safe.

"Izuku!" His mother rushes over in the moments between his father's assurances and his own hurried conclusions, reaching out to grab his free hand in both of hers. "Are you alright? Was that one of those panic attacks your teachers told me about?"

Izuku nods, his breath still somewhat uneven. "Yeah. Don't worry about it though, it's over now. It really isn't a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" His mother scoffs. "You've hurt yourself! And besides that, seeing you so frightened… I know you don't like to call attention to them, Dear, but your emotions matter."

"Hurt?" 

Izuku follows his mother's gaze down to his hand. In the process of clawing blindly at the door, he seems to have uprooted two of his nails. As soon as he examines them, he feels them begin to sting, glaringly sharp. The wood of the door now boasts two deep gouges to match.

"Oh. It's no problem, I've had much worse. I'm more worried about how the landlord is going to take this, to be honest."

His mother's frown grows even more concerned. "I'll go get the first aid kit. Hisashi, take care of Izuku for me in the meantime."

"Of course."

The fact suddenly hits Izuku that his father, who he hasn't seen in months and previously believed to be dead or worse, is standing right in front of him for the first time since he was learning to read, and he still hasn't said hello.

"Hi, Dad. It's good to see you." Izuku says, and then, because that greeting seems so woefully understated, he punctuates the sentence with a smile. A lopsided, conflicted sort of smile, but a smile, nonetheless.

And then, without warning, Izuku is pulled into a very tight embrace. After a second of shock, he returns the gesture, and whatever is working to quell the assault of jumbled memories in his brain, be it pure rationality or the vestiges' interference as Izuku suspects, does its job well enough that he's able to forget, for a moment, that his mind has confused his father with what it perceives to be his centuries-long worst enemy.

He remembers, during his childhood, having hugged his father just like this every day before he left for work, refusing to let go until he was promised, more than once, that he'd be home before he knew it. Izuku had only been tall enough to latch onto his leg then, and even now his father has to stoop down to properly embrace him. 

It's that fact that finally forces Izuku to fight back tears, because despite the fact that some things really do never change, the fact that he's grown so much in the meantime makes it abundantly clear how long his father has been away.

"Hello, Izuku. It's good to see you too." His father responds, and from the way his voice catches, it's obvious that he means it.

The hug lasts a bit longer than most, but for once, Izuku is surprised to find that he doesn't really mind much at all.

When his father straightens his posture, Izuku is finally able to get a good look at his face, unaffected, at least in part, by his earlier panic. His father looks the same as he remembers. Actually, Izuku thinks, his father looks exactly like he remembers, which is more than a bit odd considering how many years it's been.

His mother has always joked that she hoped Izuku would inherit his father's almost supernatural ward against aging, but he'd always assumed she'd been exaggerating. Now, it seems almost glaringly apparent that she hadn't. 

It reminds him of a certain someone. Maybe that trait had been fuel for his new mental connection, no matter how unimportant. It's very possible that every similarity counts.

"You should sit down," his father suggests, steering him over to the den's couch. "Anxiety attacks like the one you just experienced are typically draining."

Izuku nods. He can definitely attest to that. It's only after he's sunken into the couch that he's able to assess his father's expression. Standing far enough away to grant Izuku a considerable bubble of personal space, yet close enough to quickly assist him if the need arises, his father appears to be scrutinizing his face with all the focus of a trained sniper.

The expression is gone as soon as Izuku registers its presence, but it still manages to stir the voices in the back of his head. All For One had always looked at him like that when he'd been worried by a headache or coughing fit. Like he was the world's most fragile puzzle: weak and pitiful, an especially vexing problem to be solved rather than a person. In spite of himself, Izuku grimaces.

"You haven't asked about the panic attack yet, so I'm assuming Mom updated you?" Izuku tries to keep the bite out of his voice. He mostly succeeds.

"She did. Would you mind telling me what's going on, Izuku? The symptoms you're displaying suggest a condition far exceeding simple stress, and I have a feeling you know more than you're telling your mother."

There's an experimental tinge to his father's voice, the one it only takes on when he's intentionally probing for a reaction. Except that isn't his father's habit, Izuku has to remind himself. It's All For One's. His father is just voicing a logical conclusion based on the information he's been given; he's showing concern, not conducting an interrogation.

"I, uh, already sort of told Mom, but she didn't really believe me, so I guess she never passed the information on to you. I've been having some problems with my memory via a quirk, and it's caused the majority of the past few days' incidents, including the one you just witnessed."

Izuku startles. He hadn't been meaning to say that, or at the very least he hadn't planned on it beforehand. It isn't a bad thing that he did, per se, but he'd already more or less resigned himself to suffering in silence. Now he'll have to relive the emotional pain of a parent's distrust and subsequent denial all over again.

He wonders what triggered the confession. After a moment, he decides that it was probably the phantom wave of serenity that had decided to pool, almost suffocatingly, around his head following the conclusion of his most recent panic attack. It's easy to let something slip when you've sunk so far into ease. 

Not that Izuku isn't grateful, but he'll have to speak with the vestiges about managing whatever trick they're pulling later. He doesn't enjoy feeling as though he can't control his own emotions.

The corner of his father's mouth twitches. "Really? That would explain why you've been acting so odd. Why didn't your mother believe you?"

"She thought I was trying to convince her to let me stay in school. I told her that I could only get the help I needed to recover at Yuuei, and-"

"Sorry it took so long, I forgot I moved my medical supplies to the closet last house cleaning."

Izuku's mother reenters the room, now carrying the family's compact first-aid kit in one hand. Kneeling down in front of Izuku, she gets to work washing out his now exposed nail beds with saline, silencing the protests that build in his throat with a tense, focused expression.

He winces, but doesn't interrupt the process, watching with mild disinterest as the ends of his fingers are capped with adhesive bandages.

"I could've done that myself, you know," he mutters, voice imbued with irritation. He's learned his lesson well enough by now that he doesn't throw in a curse, but he does roll his eyes a bit as he flexes his hand.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he catches his mother exchanging a pointed glance with his father. There's certainly a good deal of concern in her expression, but there's also vindication. His father's eyes narrow.

As soon as Izuku looks at the two head-on, any suspicious emotion dissipates. Because of course they don't think he can handle their silent judgment. He grimaces.

If either of his parents catch the gesture, they give no indication, diverting their attention away from Izuku entirely. It's obvious that his mother wants to initiate a subject change.

Wordlessly, she begins to gather up the grocery bags she dropped on the floor (likely in her haste to react to Izuku's outburst), and her husband follows her lead.

"I was going to start dinner as soon as I got home so you would have something to eat after I picked you up from the airport, but seeing as you lied about your time of arrival, I think I might have to sentence you to some kitchen duty. The punishment should fit the crime, after all," his mother announces, brandishing a grocery bag at his father.

She's met with a mock sigh. "But Inko, you forget, this is a very different kitchen from the one I left. I have absolutely no idea how I'll navigate it alone."

Her act slips a bit upon hearing her husband's pantomime of despair, a grin threatening to break her poorly constructed mask of stern accusation. "Well, no helping it, I suppose. We'll just have to cook together then, won't we?"

"Yes, it appears it's unavoidable."

"And you'll do all the boring parts like boiling the water and cleaning the produce, won't you?"

"I don't know how I'll stand watching you chop the vegetables without me, but it's the price I pay for dishonesty."

"It's tragic, really."

Izuku can't help but smile a bit in spite of himself, overhearing his parents' back and forth. They've already slipped back into the same rhythm they used to inhabit back before his father's work had first separated them so many years ago, just as cohesive as Izuku assumes they were in their honeymoon phase. 

All For One definitely doesn't have the empathy required to care about anyone as much as his father does his mother. The First’s memories jump to react to the thought, but Izuku pushes them back. He'd like to think it's not because he's afraid they'll refute him. They're just generally intrusive, that's all.

Pots and pans clang in the kitchen, and Izuku is reminded of yet another childhood pastime. Back before his father left, the Midoriyas would always cook as a family, Izuku included. He was only ever really competent enough to measure out spices or sprinkle salt and pepper in the past, but now, with his extensive cooking experience, he's certain he can manage to turn his desire to help into something more impactful.

Assuming there's a way to help with a broken arm and two missing fingernails, that is.

"Hey, Mom, what are you making tonight?"

His mother beams as he approaches the kitchen, obviously happy to have drawn his interest. "I was planning on making some curry."

Izuku inspects the ingredients laid out across the counter. "Oh, so you're starting from scratch, huh? And using a tomato base instead of coconut milk. That'll work, but you'll have to add something sweet to bring down the acidity a bit, especially considering the amount of chilies you seem to be working with. And no ginger?"

His mother shakes her head, her expression slightly taken aback. "I've got some ground ginger in the pantry, but it isn't fresh."

"I mean it isn't necessary per se, but it'd really help with the flavor profile of the seasoning."

"Since when were you so opinionated regarding your mother's cooking?" His father asks, and although there's a bit of humor in his voice, the tilt of his eyebrows carries the same meticulous suspicion Izuku had sensed in the den.

Izuku works back from what he knows. He remembers learning how to cook out of necessity; living alone and lacking in friends, there had never really been any other meal options open to him. Besides, cooking was economical, and past a certain point, the food he made tasted about the same as what was served in most restaurants anyways.

But he's here, in the apartment he shares with his parents, both of whom know how to cook more than adequately, and suddenly, he finds himself doubting that he's ever made scratch curry seasoning himself. Is it safer to assume that he has a basic knowledge of cooking, or that he doesn't? He decides on the latter.

"I, uh, learned a few things about food prep when I was living in the dorms. A lot of my classmates were pretty good at it."

"Oh, right," his mother exclaims. "Katsuki is a wonderful chef, isn't he, Izuku? He'd always try to help me with meals when he came to visit, it was absolutely adorable! Mitsuki says that he's even better now. Did he help teach you?"

"Uh, yeah." Izuku nods, trying his best not to physically cringe at what he imagines Katsuki's cooking lessons might entail. Yelling, cursing, and a good deal of backseat driving, doubtlessly.

Izuku checks his father's expression as surreptitiously as he can manage, searching for affirmation regarding his excuse. Oddly enough, he seems to be quietly seething.

Maybe, Izuku briefly considers, he has something against Mitsuki. He can't imagine his father's reserved decorum meshing well with the Bakugo Family's explosive incivility. The mental image is almost comical.

"Hisashi, I need your help. I'm not tall enough to reach the measuring cabinet," His mother announces, and seamlessly, his father's expression slides back into gentle adoration.

"How did you ever survive without me?"

"Well, for starters, I had a step ladder."

Izuku allows his posture to relax, happy to have escaped suspicion. It isn't as though he hasn't already suggested to his father that a memory quirk may be at play, but for whatever reason, he now finds himself inexplicably driven to divert attention away from any supporting behavior.

He knows he can trust his father, of course, but… for some reason, the suit he's wearing is really putting Izuku on edge. Because as reasonable as it is for him to be formally dressed after coming home from an overseas work trip, Izuku is almost certain that his father wears the same style of suit as All For One. Which may not be odd, depending on the popularity of the brand. Izuku is sure it's very common.

The rest of the dinner preparations go far more smoothly, with Izuku watching from the sidelines rather than actively participating to avoid any further displays of undue experience. He throws a comment in occasionally, though never regarding his parents' cooking techniques, and after a while, he almost manages to forget his current predicament. Almost.

Until the table is set, at least.

"So, Dear," Inko opens, taking a seat at the table. "I didn't want to ask earlier for fear of stirring unpleasant memories, and you still shouldn't feel any pressure to answer if this question is linked to anything you'd rather not relive, but I can't help my curiosity. What exactly were you doing overseas, and why weren't we able to find you more easily? It was… concerning, to realize that I really don't know much at all about what you do for a living."

"Hm, I'm certain we've discussed it before," Hisashi muses. "But if you insist. I hold an upper management position within an international conglomerate that focuses on a wide array of products and services, with the most prominent being experimental medical technology, and quirk assessment and application. I oversee the organization's assets, both human and capital, and intervene using my own expertise when necessary."

Inko nods reluctantly. "Yes, I'm sure you've told me all that before, but… aren't you being a bit vague? I mean without a name or definite specialization, it's a little hard to track. Not to mention the fact that I was never contacted when you were injured. I don’t ever want a repeat of these last few months, Hisashi. Izuku and I… well, to be quite frank, we were terrified. Can you give me more to work with?"

"It would be difficult to name one specific division; as I've said, I regularly alternate between a number of institutions with shared interests. But I can promise you that this incident will never happen again. Usually one of my coworkers would've been tasked with informing you of my absence, but he was otherwise indisposed. Because of some changes in management that occurred prior to the incident, my colleagues weren't organized enough to properly address the situation at hand. 

"Several assumed that another, more qualified individual had already dealt with the broad strokes of the issue and neglected to pick up slack. That's why you were still receiving the usual monetary transfers. The medical treatment I underwent was provided by a facility within the conglomerate, once again operating under the assumption that my emergency contacts had already been notified.

"I've dealt with the individuals responsible for the oversights, and I can say with certainty that they will not be given the opportunity to mishandle any future situations. Their replacements are far more competent. Either way, I don't plan to travel overseas for work anytime in the future, so it's doubtful that they'd even be given the chance to make mistakes."

Inko smiles, her curiosity evidently satisfied. "Okay, as long as you're sure it won't happen again. Your safety is what's most important."

Izuku chokes mid-drink, placing down his glass of water before it's shattered by the ensuing coughing fit. His eyes have been trained on the wall ever since his father initiated his extremely nonspecific exposition dump.

"Izuku, are you alright?"

He nods into his elbow by way of response, eyes unmoving.

Izuku’s disquiet partially stems from the fact that every detail his father has mentioned in no way conflicts with the activities undergone by a criminal overlord, but equally distressing are The First’s memories nagging at the back of his mind. Apparently Hisashi- no, All For One, Izuku reminds himself, the distinction is very, very important- used to use convoluted explanations, on occasion, to deter his brother's interest from sensitive topics. Namely his criminal activities.

"I'm fine," Izuku assures after a few moments of struggle, voice hoarse. "Just swallowed something wrong. I think I might be a little out of it, actually. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. Is it okay if I go to bed?"

"It's alright with me," His mother says, but she shares another look with his father. "But are you sure? We were going to rent a movie."

"Yep, I'm sure," he confirms, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "You two have fun though."

As soon as Izuku enters the hallway, all his anxiety returns in full force, every barrier between himself and the vestiges' memories completely eradicated. He doesn’t like the implications of that discovery, but he likes the intense onslaught of confusion and fear that overwhelms him even less.

Izuku locks the door to his room as soon as it's been shut, mind reeling. His father was injured around the same time as the Kamino Ward Incident, he knows that. And he had called home the same day All For One escaped from prison.

Both facts, even paired together, are far more likely to be an odd coincidence than anything else. After all, what are the odds that All Might would unknowingly request that his worst nemesis's son become his successor?

If it weren’t for the memories, Izuku wouldn't even be entertaining the idea. Even with them, he's still questioning it. It seems far too surreal a possibility to be worthy of consideration, much less actual belief.

And besides, his father isn't a bad person. Sure, he had some strong opinions, but he genuinely cares about his family. He always has. And he's certainly never done anything illegal.

Besides, the vestiges would've known, wouldn't they? They'd all seen All For One prior to his fight with All Might, and they definitely would’ve warned him if he'd been the son of their worst enemy, wouldn't they have?

He racks his brain. Had All For One sounded like his father during the Kamino Incident? They both had fairly deep voices, Izuku recalls that much from the fight, but without a recording on hand, it's difficult to perform a fair comparison.

Izuku boots up his computer, poising to search up footage from the incident. As soon as he logs on, however, it becomes very evident that for whatever reason, he has no wifi.

He tries to connect twice, but both attempts are met with the same error message. Apparently, the router password has changed. Maybe his mother had to reset it. It's happened before, the neighbors guessing her admittedly simple access codes and using up far too much bandwidth to be ignored. 

It probably has nothing to do with a supervillain intent on cutting off his communication with the outside world. Definitely not.

"Shit," Izuku groans, remembering that, for the third time since his memory problems began, he has left his phone somewhere it really has no right being. He wonders, briefly, if one of the vestiges has somehow passed down an incredibly inconvenient habit.

"Stay calm," Izuku instructs himself, pacing the room. "It's just your dad. You have absolutely no proof that he's All For One. See, even saying it sounds ridiculous. Don't let the memories get to you."

He freezes in place, thoughts interrupted by the sharp, sudden flare of Danger Sense. He hears the sound of faint footsteps from the hallway, broken by the rustling of plastic, then resuming once more before fading away entirely.

Izuku inches towards the door, unlocking it with practiced wariness. He sticks his head out into the hall, scanning it for potential threats before checking to see what his visitor left him. The bags from the day's shopping lay at his feet, but unfortunately, his phone is nowhere to be found.

Still, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Izuku gathers up the items, swiftly placing them inside the threshold of his room before once again sequestering himself inside.

Izuku stares at the bags, expression blank. One of his parents just activated Danger Sense, and he's fairly certain it wasn't his mother. If he had to guess, he'd say that the only thing preventing the quirk from giving him debilitating migraines before he departed dinner was whatever odd calm had washed over him.

He's assuming it must've been the work of a quirk. Or the vestiges. It still very much could've been the vestiges. He certainly doesn't want to rule out the possibility. But just in case…

Izuku rummages through the plastic bags, scanning each individual item for abnormalities. It's only once he's made his way through the first parcel that he begins to feel completely ridiculous.

Not only is he seriously considering the all too improbable possibility of his completely normal and caring father being the country's most prominent supervillain, but he's also assuming that said supervillain would need to bug his room despite possessing a vast wealth of quirks and, if the first theory holds true, absolute authority over Izuku’s privileges and freedoms.

That thought calls to mind a flood of memories: heated arguments, waves of all-consuming claustrophobia, the gnaw of relentless hunger, sleep deprivation, each day just like the last, a bottomless sense of hopelessness, of desperation-

Izuku realizes, distantly, that he is hyperventilating. He needs to do something. Anything.

He grabs his new sheets and gets to work dressing his bed. It's a slow and methodical task when one only has a single arm at their disposal, and puts all that he has into losing himself in it. Maybe, he thinks as he unfolds a pillowcase, the vestiges can set his mind at ease.

It'll be embarrassing to admit that he's entertained such an absurd fear, but if he doesn't at least ask, then he's not sure he'll be able to stop himself from having a full-on emotional meltdown.

After he tucks in his new comforter, he flips off the lights. If he wants anything to be sorted out, he's going to need to sleep. And it certainly isn't as though he's not tired.

"If you'd just told him sooner-"

"I tried! You saw me try! I thought it would be enough! And last night, he didn't exactly give me a choice, did he? Those were some strong sleeping meds. Not that I'm blaming him per se, but-"

"Well, you should be! How dense does he have to be to completely ignore direct-to-brain video evidence? Obviously, he isn't half as intelligent as you seem so keen on insisting."

"He's in denial, and wouldn't you be too? It's a terrifying realization, and an unlikely one at that. Besides, he's only a child. We can't expect him to always remain rational in situations like these."

" You're defending him, of all people? I thought you would understand more acutely than any of us just how dire this situation really is. When allowances are made, people die."

"Whoa now, that's takin' it a little too far, don't you think?"

"No, to be completely fucking honest, I don't! You all know the risks same as I do, and-"

Izuku opens his eyes, and the din of argument, which he'd only been peripherally conscious of prior, cuts off into silence.

"Sorry!" Izuku blurts, eyes scanning the semicircle of vestiges around him. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but I, uh, have a question to ask?"

Almost immediately after closing his mouth, Izuku notices a few odd occurrences. For One thing, he has a mouth to close, which certainly hasn't been a constant when dealing with the mysterious One For All mindscape.

For another, the mindscape's appearance has drastically changed. Where there was once nothing but blank, seemingly endless void, there now exists a crumbling room, boasting only three fully-fledged walls and a cavernous gap in its ceiling. Behind the vestiges, who seem to have acquired some fairly ostentatious chairs, is a singular door. Even more curious, the two vestiges who were once nothing more than silhouettes have taken on full forms.

Every One For All holder present, the two new additions included, is staring unabashedly at Izuku, varying degrees of shock present on their faces. It's Banjo who speaks first.

"Uh… he isn't supposed to be able to force himself in like that, is he? I could’ve sworn we usually have to contact him first."

En shrugs. "Usually. There aren't exactly rules though. Could be normal."

"His mastery of One For All has progressed as a result of our memories, that much is obvious based on his appearance," Shinomori comments. "It's possible that this progression has given him the ability to enter as he pleases."

"Or it could be something else."

The last interjection, spoken by one of the newly unveiled vestiges, is imbued with a distinctly spiteful suspicion that makes Izuku’s eyes narrow. What is he insinuating?

"Hello, Midoriya," Shimura cuts in, shooting the last speaker a cautionary frown. "We'd be happy to answer whatever questions you might have, but first, we have some important matters to discuss."

She angles her gaze to land on The First. Izuku notices that her expression is somewhat accusatory, mouth still locked in a thin frown. "Do you want to handle this, or should I?"

The other vestige can't seem to meet her eyes. "I'll take care of it, thanks."

"Take care of what?" Izuku asks, and he can hear the rising panic in his voice, sharp and frenzied.

"This is something I really should've told you a long time ago," The First's voice wavers a bit. "But I was worried that the information might, um, negatively impact your emotional state. Regardless, there's no holding it off any longer, so-"

"Stop," Izuku interjects. "I think I know what you're about to say, but there has to be some way that you're wrong. I mean sure the similarities are there, and I'll admit, the coincidences are strange but… you definitely would've told me sooner if he was… who I think he might be? Right?"

The First winces at that. "I, uh, might not have thought it was relevant? Until recently, that is, and even then, I thought I should give you time to recover emotionally before hitting you with more bad news. It seemed like we still had at least a week before, um... your father would be an issue. He definitely kept the date of his return from you for a reason."

Izuku’s mind reels. "That- that wasn't a confirmation, was it?"

The First looks at the vestige beside him, the new arrival with spiky, close-cropped hair and piercing eyes, with a pleading expression. His target scoffs.

"You got yourself into this mess, and now you have to talk yourself out of it. I've been very clear about my desire to remain uninvolved."

"That wasn't a confirmation, was it?" Izuku repeats dumbly, ignoring the brief exchange. It's difficult to really focus on anything other than receiving a refutation.

"Midoriya, I know it’s hard to believe, but-"

"You must be wrong. You have to be. I mean I'll admit my dad might be a bit shady, but he isn't a criminal. He's never even raised his voice at me before, and he'd do anything for Mom."

The First's expression turns from uncomfortable to pitying. "He can definitely be agreeable when he wants to be. He's never had any shortage of followers."

Izuku notes The First's unspoken addition. That he's never actually cared about any of his interpersonal connections beyond their usefulness to him. Which is why All For One can't be the same person as his father.

"He called every week. More than once, when he could, even before I got One For All. And he always sent checks home. Mom never specified the amount, but we've always had extra money when we needed it. He isn't a bad person, and he definitely isn't All For One."

Izuku hears his voice shaking, and he knows he's being immature, and willfully ignorant, and rude, but all he's only asking for is this one thing. In what's shaping up to be a week-long series of disasters, he's only asking that his father, who he has always loved and trusted unconditionally, isn't the same person who killed him, and imprisoned him, and just generally made his life a living Hell for decades on end. He doesn’t want that to be too much to ask.

"I'm so sorry you had to find out like this. I know how difficult this must be for you to hear, especially considering how important your family is to you. No one is judging you for reacting emotionally." Shimura's voice is more gentle than the others, imbued with an understanding and warmth that Izuku hasn't heard in a very long time. 

She'd used it often enough with him, back when the two of them trained together regularly, but he hadn't really considered how much he missed it until now.

It's enough to even out his heart rate, just a bit.

"That being said, it's very important that you listen to what I'm about to tell you and acknowledge it as true. By some coincidence, your father is All For One. While all of us may have our own personal biases regarding this fact, none of us have the insight to make any assumptions regarding his motives or personal feelings towards you and your mother."

At this, Shimura glances, pointedly, over to the two most recently materialized vestiges, one of whom looks down, somewhat apologetically, while the other raises his eyebrows as if completely unaffected.

"Unfortunately, no matter what your stance on the situation may be, our inaction has left us incredibly disadvantaged. It would be incredibly negligent of us to assume that All For One isn't going to take advantage of this situation where he can, and we can't allow you to go into this unprepared. I'm only asking you to trust us, Midoriya. Can you do that for me?"

Izuku nods, his expression listless and drawn. If the vestiges are to be believed, then this revelation recontextualizes his entire childhood. No- not just his childhood. His entire life .

The vague career descriptions, the largely unexplained absences, the network of experts his father seemed to have accessible for any situation, the fascination with quirks, the obvious disdain for All Might…

It's almost a little funny, in a terrifying sort of way, recalling how many times he's tried to convince his father of All Might's merit. Thinking back, the first time he'd really put any effort into it, compiling an essay's worth of arguments and analysis to back his opinion, had occurred not long after the fight that had originally limited his mentor's use of One For All. Consequently, that would've been the same confrontation that very nearly killed his father.

The laugh that forces Its way out of Izuku’s throat sounds more than a little hysterical. The vestiges react by sharing reasonably concerned glances.

"I'm asleep right now. Completely defenseless. In the same apartment as him. My door is locked, but that doesn’t matter. It wouldn't be difficult at all for him to force his way in. If he wants me dead, I'm dead, and if he wants One For All, all he has to do is take it."

"Midoriya-"

"He could've done it so long ago though. He knows where I live, he has known for my entire life. So why keep up the charade? Why not send someone to kidnap me, or better yet, take my quirk himself when my guard is at its lowest? He's had every opportunity. And why did he continue to speak to me? It wasn't like I was giving him any information on One For All or All Might, and everything I told him about Yuuei was publicly accessible."

"Please, could you-"

"Either he's a very talented actor or he cares about Mom- no scratch that, he's always been an excellent actor but I've never seen him lie quite like that. And the money… he never gives out personal funds like that unless it's for a long-term investment, but what could he possibly have to gain from maintaining a relationship with an unemployed housewife? Why start it in the first place? Unless he-"

"Hey, Kid, your ears materialized a long time ago, didn't they? Shut the fuck up!"

The exclamation, yelled by one of the dreamscape's two new faces, is enough to snap Izuku back to reality, halting his ramblings mid-sentence. He'd been muttering again, hadn't he? He feels his face flush with embarrassment (he knows how annoying his tangents can be), but when he looks up, he's a little shocked to see that the interloper, be they second or third, is more than exasperated.

He's angry.

And seated beside him, The First looks extremely pale, and perhaps a little nauseous. He'd been the one, Izuku realizes, who'd interjected the first two times during his musings.

It takes a second for Izuku to put the pieces together. His father mutters like that too, sometimes, when he's engaged in quirk analysis. Which is something Izuku- no, The First- was subjected to fairly often during his period of nearly solitary confinement.

"I'm so sorry, I should've known better. I don't ever do it consciously, and-"

"No, no," The First assures, though his posture is now noticeably more closed off. "You didn’t mean anything by it. It's alright."

"No, it isn't," the man beside him scoffs. "You've all let this go on long enough. The Ninth clearly isn't in any place to be protecting One For All. He's already defended his father twice despite the obvious threat he poses, and his emotional state is a complete wreck.

"He's a prime target for manipulation, and when it comes down to it, do you really think he's going to have the resolve necessary to kill All For One? He's obviously unsuitable."

"It's a bit hypocritical," The opposite vestige interjects. "For you to judge The Ninth based on his relation to All For One when you and Yoichi are so close, don't you think?"

"Aren't you supposed to be on my side here? You know that isn't what this is about. Yoichi doesn't have a dangerously strong emotional connection to his brother, and he definitely didn't inherit-"

"You two would do best to keep in mind that we have an audience." The First's eyes narrow, his usually affable mien wiped away to reveal something far more serious. "While I understand your concerns, they're misplaced. Midoriya has proven on multiple occasions that he's worthy of this power, and by extension, our trust. If you believe I'm biased towards my nephew, then I feel inclined to remind you. Whether or not you think he's the proper choice, no one else currently alive is a physically suitable vessel for One For All."

Izuku nearly jumps. "What?"

"Another thing we'd hoped to discuss under better circumstances." The First sighs, resting his head on one hand. "This quirk has grown progressively stronger across generations just as any other quirk theoretically would, but it's rate of development has been far more rapid due to the addition of Stockpile. Based on what we've observed, it's grown far too powerful to be wielded safely by anyone already in possession of a quirk. Whether knowingly or not, All Might struck gold with you."

Izuku tries to swallow, but his mouth is far too dry. "Right, that makes sense, but… why me specifically? Not- not that I want to give away One For All, I'd never try to escape my responsibilities like that! But, um, is there another reason? Or is that all?"

The First frowns. It's obvious that he knows what Izuku is thinking. That if he can't pass off his quirk to someone else, and if the vestiges can't find a way to fix whatever is messing with his memories, he'll be stuck in whatever form his condition progresses to, a shell of his former self.

But he also must know then, that Izuku will do what he can to fulfill the purpose of One For All regardless. That he knows he's a hero, and that heroes don't give up just because a course of action promises to be detrimental to them on a personal scale. Heroes are selfless, regardless of the odds stacked against them. Izuku wants to embody that.

He will embody that.

"Nevermind," Izuku interrupts, speaking before The First can open his mouth to respond. "This is my power now, and if you're placing your trust in me, then I'm ready to do whatever I have to. I won't doubt myself."

For whatever reason, this makes The First's expression grow guilty rather than assured. "Thank you for your dedication."

He turns to the more outspoken of the two unknown vestiges. "Now, can I trust you to respect Midoriya's position as a wielder of One For All?"

The man narrows his eyes, frown undeterred. "For now? Sure. What you said is true, no matter how much I hate to admit it. Until the time comes when he slips up, I really don't have a leg to stand on."

Izuku gulps. Not if he slips up. When . Like it's a sure thing. That's encouraging.

The First raises an eyebrow. "Well, that'll have to do for the time being. Now, on to more pressing matters. Any ideas on how to help Midoriya out of his current situation?"

"Well, obviously he's gotta get out of that apartment, right?" Banjo asks. "He's way too vulnerable there. Honestly, even visiting us right now is a huge risk for him."

"He needs to be back in his dorm." En asserts. "It's safest there, with trained heroes. And he can update Yagi. He'll help."

"Easier said than done." Shimura taps a finger against the arm of her chair, resting her head heavily on one closed hand. "His mother won't approve of that, and we know for certain that his father won't allow it."

A dark look passes over her face as she refers to All For One, no longer kept at bay by her concern for Izuku. It carries the purest rage he's ever seen from her, cold and dark, and it occurs to Izuku that the only emotion he's allowed himself to respond to in reference to All For One on the basis of the vestiges' memories is fear. 

Fear so potent that he was rendered completely unable to think of anything other than escape. How will he react, he wonders, when he’s able to dwell on their anger as well?

Shinomori's voice draws Izuku from his thoughts. "Yes, and running away isn't likely to work, considering All For One's possession of Search. What I'm wondering is why he hasn't tried to move against us already. It seems as though he's genuinely concerned with Midoriya Inko's opinion."

The First grimaces. "And for some unfathomable reason, she's completely smitten with him. Still, if he really does care what she thinks, then we at least know Midoriya is somewhat safe for the time being. Hurting her son would definitely upset her."

Izuku grits his teeth. He's still having trouble reconciling the fact that his father and All For One are the same person, so much so that he almost feels inclined to defend him from the vestiges' implied insults. 

His older memories seem to be much sturdier than his more recent ones, especially when associated with prevailing people, situations, and concepts. That means that his memories of his father are trustworthy (or at least as trustworthy as they can be), and Izuku can't recall a time where he ever seemed as though he didn't genuinely care for his family's wellbeing.

It's odd to hear the vestiges not only insist that his father is one of Japan's most prominent villains, but also imply that he views his family as nothing more than a tool in the process. He might, of course. Izuku's memories of All For One certainly support that theory. But his memories of his father don't.

For the time being, he'd rather avoid thinking about him altogether. As irrational as it is, he wishes the past holders would make doing so a little less of a challenge.

"As nice as all this speculation is, we still need a solid game plan," Shimura sighs. "I'm aware that your cellphone is probably confiscated, but can you think of any other way to contact Yagi? I know home phones are becoming increasingly rare, but...?"

Izuku jumps a little at being directly addressed. It occurs to him that the majority of the conversation has featured the vestiges talking about him rather than to him, but quickly dismisses the observation. He’s certain it’s a habit picked up from his former lack of response capability, and not a sign of disrespect like the back of his brain keeps insisting. With one exception, of course.

“We don’t have a home phone.” 

Izuku wants to suggest some alternative plan, but his thoughts are too loud to ignore. Talking about possible methods of escape has led his mind back to how desperately trapped he is, a concerningly defenseless fish in a frighteningly accessible barrel. Memories flash across his consciousness, frenzied and forceful, and he has to fight to keep his face from betraying his fears.

Shimura opens her mouth, but Izuku doesn’t get to hear whatever it is she plans on saying. Because then, it hits him for the third time that day. Danger Sense.

Izuku can tell that the vestiges feel it too. It’s obvious from the way their eyes widen, the speed with which their posture stiffens. They look to each other, hurriedly, then, all at once, to Izuku.

He wakes up.

Chapter Text

The first thing he hears is the sound of footsteps. The second is the sound of his desk chair scraping against the floor.

Izuku clenches his eyes further shut, muscles tense as a loaded spring. Pinpoints of lights dance behind his eyelids, fading in and out of existence. Although he can't see them, he knows the knuckles on his free hand are pale, his intact nails digging slim, sharp crescents into his palms.

He needs to control his breathing. He needs to run. He needs to fight. He needs to pretend he's asleep. He needs-

"You can open your eyes, Izuku. I know you're awake."

A shiver runs down his spine. That's All For One's voice. It's also his father's voice. And now, he has no excuses to explain away the resemblance between the two.

He takes a deep breath. He needs to keep his cool, that much is paramount. If he breaks down now, it's all over. He almost wishes that whatever quirk had been used on him earlier was still active. Almost.

He doesn't open his eyes.

"Why are you here?"

There's a pause.

"Well, that's rather open-ended, isn't it? Could you be a bit more specific?"

"Why," Izuku manages to choke out through clenched teeth. "Are you in my room?"

All For One is talking, that's good. Because every second he spends speaking is another one he isn't spending maiming Izuku. It's also another one in which Izulu can brainstorm a plan.

Unfortunately, his brain doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. His inclinations teeter rapidly between fight and flight, this time far more evenly matched than the last. Because while most of his memories paint All For One as a threat to be feared, very nearly all of them insist that more important than whatever fear Izuku must feel is his loathing. And he wants revenge.

For all of the family members he's lost. For all of the mentors he's watched die. For all the civilians he couldn't save. For all the lives he so very nearly lived, that he could've lived, if it hadn't been for one singular individual working against him at every turn.

His nails draw blood.

All For One sighs, the sound somehow simultaneously malicious and melancholy. "It's a rare occasion when I despise being proven right. They really have sunk their claws into you, haven't they?"

Izuku opens his eyes at the introduction of the non sequitur. He wants to see All For One's face purely for the purpose of reading his expressions, but at the same time, knows that if he looks, he might not be able to stop himself from acting. On which impulse, he isn’t sure. He still doesn't have a plan.

He doesn't turn his head, keeping both eyes trained squarely on the ceiling.

"You're avoiding the question."

"I'm here to help you, Izuku, though I somehow doubt you'll believe it."

All For One's words disquiet Izuku for more reasons than one. Historically, what the villain considers helpful has never even come close to approximating his own definition of the word.

He'd almost rather have been blatantly told that All For One's motivation was to steal his quirk, or threaten him, or injure him, or kill him. At least those explanations would've been expected. Straightforward. Reasonable. And they would forecast a predictable outcome. As things stand, Izuku has absolutely no idea what to expect.

Even worse, there's no sarcasm to the villain’s words, no projected duel meaning or obvious threat. In fact, his tone suggests quite the opposite. For whatever reason, All For One wants to appear non-threatening. Somehow, that's more terrifying than anything else.

"You're right. I don't think I do." Izuku tries to focus on the minute textural details of the ceiling rather than the crushing dread that's begun to weigh more heavily on his chest with each passing moment. "Why show up now, of all times? You knew I inherited One For All months ago, and I would've been a much easier target before I moved to Yuuei. You could’ve just killed me then and been done with it."

He tries not to let any emotion show in his voice. Just because he knows that his father is All For One doesn't somehow erase the fact that he's his father. There are good memories there, completely disconnected from the ones he associates with All For One, and it's difficult not to feel intensely betrayed when he realizes how one-sided they all must've been.

"Izuku, please. You know I'd never hurt you."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Izuku can't help but snort at that. "Really? You've always been a good liar, but that's some especially convincing delivery. Ever consider becoming an actor instead of a villain? You'd still get to spew melodramatic ego-fueled monologues, if that helps sell the pitch."

He immediately regrets taking such a sardonic tone. He's lying down, completely defenseless, in the same room as his killer (no, not his killer, he isn’t dead), and somehow, he has the gall to make snide remarks. As much as Izuku hates All For One, now is definitely not the time to needlessly aggravate him.

"Well, that's certainly disturbing. Still, I'm hardly surprised that Yoichi has found such an effective way to ensure that his immaturity outlives him," The villain mutters to himself. "Let it never be said that he wasn't resourceful."

Izuku barely picks up the words, but once he does, he has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from firing back an equally caustic retort. All For One definitely isn't in any place to be making statements regarding maturity.

"Considering the lengths to which your condition has progressed, I believe it might be in both our best interests if you allowed me to calm your nerves."

"Using the same quirk from earlier, right? I'm guessing it requires physical contact. Otherwise you wouldn't have waited so long to activate it in the foyer."

"Correct. I would've applied its effects before waking you, but I was afraid that if the contact proved enough to do so prematurely, your response might be more… aggressive than necessary. I would like to have arranged a more pragmatic quirk for this meeting, but unfortunately, considering the time constraints set by One For All, my options were fairly limited."

Izuku inches further away from the villain's voice. "So, you knew about One For All's memory stockpiling before you saw me today? Have you been watching me?"

"Don't sound so surprised. It's only natural that I'd be worried about your health, especially considering the company you've chosen to keep. I thought it would be obvious to you by now that All Might doesn't have your best interests at heart, but it seems I've grievously underestimated the lengths of your blind devotion."

When All For One snarls All Might's name, it sounds less like a denotation and more like a profanity. Izuku has never heard the word spoken with such abject disgust, a considerable feat when he recalls just how many villains have held it in contempt. He shrinks down further into his mattress.

He'd known, to a degree, that All For One had the ability to keep tabs on him via Search, but he really hadn't ever wanted to consider the possibility too deeply. It wasn't something he could change after all, and the thought only ever served to make him anxious and unfocused, effects that he couldn't allow to impact his training. 

The fact that his suspicions have been confirmed, and after discovering the unfortunate identity of his father no less, makes the negative emotions associated with them flood back all at once. 

"But none of that matters anymore," All For One continues. "Because we're going to undo the damage he's done now, before its effects can become permanent. Now, if you can agree to hold out your hand-"

"No." Izuku draws his free arm to his chest in one swift motion, focusing briefly on the movement's kinetic energy. "Definitely not."

All For One sighs. "I'm asking now because I respect your autonomy, but if you continue to be difficult, then I'm not entirely opposed to using force. I won't injure you, of course, but ultimately, you'll only be briefly prolonging the inevitable. Now, let's try again. May I see your hand?"

Izuku could point out the irony of All For One claiming to support his autonomy while threatening him with an authoritarian ultimatum. He could also laugh at the ridiculous notion that the villain has any moderately moral reason to ensure he remains unhurt.

But with enough adrenaline coursing through his veins to give a small child a heart attack, all he can manage is a forceful shake of the head as he mentally readies himself for combat.

He needs to reposition himself to gain a better view of his opponent, but he really doesn't want to. Because if he does, he'll be looking at his father, and he definitely hasn't had enough time to work through the emotions tied to that realization yet.

While Izuku knows that One For All is technically the only quirk that can resist repossession via All For One, the word technically is key. Every time he's had to resist the quirk in the past, it's taken a considerable mental toll, and he's never been quite so vulnerable during an attempt. If the struggle can be unbalanced by differences in physical condition or strength of will, then Izuku is at an evident disadvantage.

Although the manner of quirk theft Ragdoll underwent seemed to require a good deal of preparation, what occurred during the transfer of Rewind didn't, meaning that avoiding direct contact is paramount until Izuku is given the chance to observe All For One's current limits directly and draw his own conclusions. This means that an altercation is all but unavoidable.

Izuku only has knowledge of a very small portion of the quirks All For One has had dozens of decades to amass, and while it's possible that there's a limit to the number he can possess at one time, he's had at least a day to plan and prepare for the encounter currently underway. Whatever quirks he's prepped for use are likely very well-suited for a clash with One For All, even as changed as it is.

Although Izuku would like to think there's a slim chance he might manage to win, or at the very least escape, his odds certainly don't look good, especially not with a broken arm.

But he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

"Disappointing, but not surprising. Do try to keep collateral damage to a minimum. I'd really rather prevent eviction, if possible."

Izuku pushes up off his mattress to assume a more advantageous stance, but before his feet can hit the floor, Danger Sense sharpens to a needlepoint. He barely manages to dodge All For One's outstretched hand, activating Fa Jin to achieve the necessary speed.

The total energy stored within the quirk is paltry, only lasting him what he assumes to be, at the very most, half a second before falling away entirely. He needs to use One For All, but doing so runs the heavy risk of injury, at least if his last big disaster is anything to go off of.

He isn't granted the time to weigh the action’s pros and cons, however, as he receives another isolated warning pang not a second after the first.

In an act of desperate substitution, Izuku anchors a black whip to the room's far wall, aiming to shoot himself towards it before the next attempt at contact can land. Black Whip is, unfortunately, not nearly as quick as Fa Jin or pure One For All, however, a fact which is made startlingly evident to Izuku as a hand, accelerated through the use of what Izuku knows to be a combination of quirks, catches his arm.

As his heart rate begins to slow, Izuku is left to watch black whip's singular extension dissolve, unceremoniously, into thin air. He tries to rekindle the anxiety and anger fueling it only seconds before, but to no avail. Whatever quirk All For One is employing is stronger this time than it was the last, reducing Izuku’s emotional output from erratic to apathetic in the span of a blink.

"There, now that wasn’t so difficult, was it? Seeing as you've settled down a bit, do you think the two of us could continue our conversation?"

Though All For One's voice is placid, the fact that his hand has yet to release Izuku’s arm implies an unspoken threat.

Without Black Whip or One For All to draw from, Fa Jin is rendered nearly entirely ineffective, leaving Float and Smokescreen as his only remaining options. While neither quirk is suboptimal for fleeing in an open environment, both are very poorly suited to indoor use.

Izuku is effectively trapped, and both he and All For One know it.

"Yes," he answers simply, returning to sit on his bed. He hangs his head the whole way, more in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the villain than express the sense of defeat that rests, muted, on the far peripherals of his mental state.

"Thank you." Izuku, eyes still trained pointedly on the floor, watches as All For One returns to his seat at the room's desk. "As you've surmised, I was made aware of One For All's most recent functional development through remote observation. I'm assuming you've also realized that it served as the driving motivation for my return."

Izuku bobs his head. "You've implied as much. What you haven't touched on is why."

"Actually, I have. But for whatever reason, you seem dead set on ignoring my explanations."

He wrinkles his nose. "To help me? That's too vague."

"In conjunction with my previous assertion? No, it really isn't."

"You want to stop my memories from being altered?" Izuku ventures, voice uncertain. Based on everything the villain has said previously, that would appear to be his underlying goal.

But Izuku can hardly imagine any way such an endeavor could personally benefit All For One. Not unless it was accompanied by the removal of Izuku’s quirk, at least.

"From being corrupted, yes." Once again, a streak of bitter, unbridled contempt worms its way into All For One's voice. "I always planned on returning here once my goals had come to fruition. I just never expected for All Might of all people to interfere with my family beforehand."

"If it's any consolation, he doesn't know."

"Of course he doesn't," the villain growls. "As intelligent as he purportedly appears on paper, that man possesses all the logic and reasoning skills of an especially inanimate rock."

Izuku is sure he would take that insult very personally were he not cocooned in a dense layer of compulsory calm.

"You say you planned on coming back. Why? You don't expect me to believe you actually cared about us, do you?"

"I've never done anything to imply the contrary."

"Really?" Even with the quirk gripping his amygdala in a chokehold, Izuku’s voice still manages to catch. "Not when you vaulted me, or maimed me, or killed my husband, or… well, did anything you did to Tenko."

The quirk doubles down, shoving his emotions aside with all the grace of a steamroller. Izuku thinks, distantly, that it must have the capacity to be controlled remotely following initial contact.

"I never did any of those things to you, Izuku. Think for a moment. You've been free to go where you please for the entirety of your teenage years. You're uninjured, aside from your arm, which I'm sure you remember breaking yourself. You've never been married, and-"

"Don't lie to me. I know who you are, and I know what you're trying to do. You don't get to tell me what is and isn't real."

All For One releases a slow, measured breath. "You can't possibly enjoy being in a state of constant confusion and uncertainty. I saw how you reacted in the kitchen when you realized you'd said something unexpected. Don't you want this to end? Aren't you afraid?"

Izuku is terrified. But he can't let All For One know that.

"I'm fine. I'm doing fine."

The emotions start to creep back in, one at a time. But now, instead of rage composing the forefront, there's dread.

"So, set on lying, are we? I'd say that All Might was the one who taught you to be so grotesquely self-sacrificial, but I suppose you've always been one to suffer in silence, haven't you?"

Izuku shifts under the villain’s pointed gaze. Just as Danger Sense begins to stab into his psyche, All For One intensifies the effects of his unnamed quirk once more, easing away Izuku’s headache.

"Despite what your heroes might tell you, there's no glory in playing a martyr. The suffering you're enduring right now isn't noble, it's senseless. And entirely preventable."

"You can cut the bullshit. I'm never giving you One For All, and no amount of lecturing is going to change that."

"You really believe that's all this is about?" All For One's voice almost sounds convincingly hurt. Almost. "I didn't think you were so far gone that you'd already forgotten your childhood. What motive would I have had for being so involved if not genuine attachment?"

Izuku has asked himself the same question many times already, but he still hasn't found an answer. His father had always been present in some form or another, even in the period occurring after Izuku had been diagnosed as quirkless and before he had received One For All.

What use had he been then, with absolutely nothing to give aside from familial affection and admiration? All For One certainly could've been planning to use him as a nomu (a thought which makes him very nearly nauseous), but if that was true, there would've been no need to waste time building an emotional connection with him first.

Besides, the constant discussions regarding quirk analysis would suggest that whatever designs All For One had for him included the full use of his mental faculties. It's possible that he planned on giving Izuku a quirk when he was older, exploiting his loyalty to produce an unquestioning yet rational tool. But if that's the case, then Izuku can't justify why All For One had never provided him with combat training or taught him any of the skills required for a more logistics-focused villain to function.

There's also the comparative case of the treatment of Tenko (Izuku absolutely refuses to call him Tomura, and especially not Shigaraki), who All For One appears to have generally kept at arm's length. If he had to guess, Izuku would assume that a variable-ratio schedule of reinforcement had been employed in the alleged new Symbol of Fear's conditioning, with affection being shown on a sporadic, results-oriented basis rather than the steady, unconditional one that was prevalent throughout his own childhood.

The disparities don't add up, especially not when considering All For One's modus operandi, which reliably prioritizes results and efficiency over ethics.

"You can't think of one, can you? Has it occurred to you that there may be a reason for that?"

"Briefly," Izuku admits. "But I know you well enough to know that there's a catch. Obviously I haven't looked at this from enough angles."

He'd defended his father from the vestiges' insults, certainly, but that had been before they'd been proven correct beyond a reasonable doubt. Now, aside from betrayal, Izuku has no idea what to feel.

While he desperately wants to believe that his father really cared about him all those years, he's certain that whatever caring constitutes for All For One is something he wants absolutely no part in. There's also the fact to consider, of course, that regardless of how his father views him, Izuku will eventually have to kill him.

When he tries to decipher whether that's an especially unpleasant thought, the vestiges' memories begin to clamor for purchase through the haze of calm, bringing with them the beginnings of a migraine. It's probably better to work through those feelings when he's alone either way.

"You aren't drawing from your own memories to come to that conclusion. I've never been anything aside from perfectly honest with you."

Izuku laughs bitterly. "Through omission, maybe, but I'm honestly hesitant to give you even that much credit. I know for a fact that you've lied to Mom."

"On occasion, though you're not exempt from that yourself. I think we both agree that there are some things she simply isn't emotionally equipped to handle. Not that that's a bad thing, mind you. Her empathy is very endearing when it isn't causing her undue stress."

As much as he wants to, Izuku can’t argue with that. Not without being horribly hypocritical, at least.

"Let's get back to the topic at hand. Even assuming that you do actually care about my health and mental wellbeing, which I still don't buy, by the way, that doesn't change the fact that you're a despicable human being. I could never give you additional power and keep a good conscience, willingly or unwillingly."

"I knew you'd say that, of course, but it stings nonetheless. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that you have very little choice in the matter. Sometimes, a parent has to do what's best for their child, even knowing that they'll resent them for it."

All For One's earlier statement regarding Izuku’s autonomy is called to mind, but Izuku is too on edge to revisit it.

"You can't take One For All without explicit permission. You've tried before, and you've obviously never succeeded." He tries to mask the doubt in his voice with defiance. The act isn’t especially convincing.

"It's true that I haven't succeeded before. But these are unique circumstances, and I've never been given such a compelling motive." All For One tilts his head to one side. Izuku is certain that if he looked, the villain’s eyes would hold that same scrutinizing sharpness from before. "Still, if I can't devise some way to remove that atrocity through direct use of All For One, I've already begun exploring other methods. They're still in their testing phases, but some simulations have yielded promising results."

Izuku's posture stiffens. "That's a bluff."

"Believe what you will, but as I've told you, I'm very dedicated to keeping our relationship honest. Still, I can always hope that you’ll come to your senses and accept my help willingly before your condition progresses further. We are working against the clock, after all."

"Not likely, but thanks for the offer. Now that that's settled, can we be done here?"

"Certainly, but there are a few things that I'd like to make you aware of before I go. Running is, to put it lightly, highly inadvisable considering the combination of quirks I have at my disposal. If you attempt to do so, not only will I retrieve you, but I may also feel the need to relocate you somewhere more secure until your mental state improves.

"Though I don't plan on returning your mobile phone until you've proven that you can be trusted with it, it does occur to me that you may attempt other methods of communication. I'm sure you're aware of how foolish requesting rescue would be, especially from someone as defenseless as All Might. I don't want to hurt anyone you're especially attached to, but keeping you from losing yourself is my top priority, and I'm not confident I can accomplish that without your presence here.

"As for your mother, I'm sure you've noticed that she's already questioning your behavior quite a bit. Were you to suggest the idea that I might be a villain, well… I doubt the claim would bolster your credibility, to say the least. With that in mind, I would appreciate it if you could keep this revelation between us."

Izuku takes a moment to consider before giving a begrudging nod, fighting back the anxiety pricking dully at the edge of his consciousness. All For One is right. He's cornered.

"I'm glad we understand each other. Though your memories may convince you otherwise, I truly do hold your best interests at heart. Have a restful night."

The villain pauses for a moment, almost as though he expects a parting word in kind. Then, he rises, wordlessly, and exits the room.

It's only when the sound of footsteps recedes completely that Izuku sinks back down into his bed, releasing a strangled breath he'd had no idea he was holding.

He's been left with a lot to process. Too much to process, if he's being entirely honest with himself. His brain whirls, emotions and memories slinging against each other like rocks in a cement mixer as calm gives way to chaos.

Either the emotional regulation quirk requires physical proximity, or All For One has withdrawn it. Regardless, Izuku is now able to linger on just how royally screwed he is, and if he's being completely honest with himself, he really isn't taking it all too well.

"C'mon," He mutters to himself, tapping his fingers absentmindedly against his bed frame. "You're a hero. You're trained to deal with stressful situations like this. Calm down."

He tries to be productive. To brainstorm ideas. To think of a plan. But he can't focus, and as the minutes tick by, he only becomes more and more aware of how small his room is. How small his apartment is. How small his chances of escape are.

Should he sleep, or is that too close to admitting defeat? He isn't resigning himself to captivity, not again, not even symbolically. But other than sleep, what else can he do?

Eventually, he settles on pacing his room, braindead and blank-faced, until cracks of light begin to slip in through the blinds covering his window.

Only then does he manage to crawl back into bed, allowing exhaustion to drag him, resentfully, to sleep.

Chapter Text

“That was… difficult to watch.”

The First leans heavily against one armrest, eyes partially obscured by a sleek curtain of bone-white hair. The expression he wears supports his claim, portraying an evident mix of long-held concern and anxious discomfort.

“This entire ordeal has been difficult to watch,” The Second shoots back resentfully, face buried in a hand. “In fact, I’d argue that your use of the word difficult paints a misrepresentation of the situation so flagrant as to be offensive. You heard your brother, didn’t you? Even putting it lightly, we’re completely fucked.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic.” The Third’s obvious attempt at confidence fails, his tone carrying far more wavering notes of doubt than the even undercurrents of resolution he desires. “We’ll find some way out of this. We’ve been in far tougher scrapes in the past, and we’ve always managed to overcome them together. Have a little faith.”

“I’m being a realist, not a pessimist. In case all of this-” The Second gestures broadly to the ring of primarily empty chairs that encircle his pacing route, movements notably lacking in consideration or grace. “Hasn’t tipped you off, we fail more often than we succeed. Seven ghosts and two survivors, one of whom is currently powerless while the other is the son of the very man we’ve sworn to destroy, not to mention that he-”

“Don’t. You know bringing that up again isn’t going to do you any good.” The First dons an exasperated frown. “You aren’t changing my opinion on Midoriya’s fitness as a wielder of One For All; you’ve tried and failed several times already. We’re focusing on the future now, not the past.”

“Fine then. If we’re talking in terms of the future, does your brother know? Is there any chance of him finding out?”

The Third freezes still as a statue, eyes going wide and mouth forming into the shape of a strangled oval. His attention darts over to The First, eyebrows raised to serve as the precursor to an obviously pressing question.

“He… he doesn’t already know , does he? I mean there’s no way he could, right? We didn’t even know until, well… you know.”

The First’s eyes shift uncomfortably, their focus evidently set on landing anywhere aside from his two fellow vestiges. He knits and unknits his fingers with a nervous sort of precision, shoulders lifting into a minute, noncommittal shrug.

“I don’t believe so, but I’m not exactly equipped to make any generalized statements regarding my brother’s awareness. Hisashi never displayed any of the usual indicators when we were children, and he obviously had no sure method of confirmation in my case, as unique as it was. Unless he’s developed some new theory or technology that we’re unaware of, this secret should be safe with us.”

The Second heaves out a languid sigh, eyes flashing haphazardly towards the vault door that looms, ominously, over the bulk of the vestiges’ makeshift meeting space. After less than a second of lingering, they return, dual orange irises falling to rest on The First.

“Alright, that’ll have to be enough for now. Assuming you don't attempt to inform Ninth, of course.”

“You know there’s no risk of that. He already has enough to worry about as it is.” A beat of silence. “He’ll find out eventually, you know. We may be able to control what he recalls now, at least to a degree, but it can’t last. Not if this keeps progressing at a consistent rate.”

“We may not have to worry. Assuming that your brother fails to initiate whatever plan he’s threatening Ninth with, by the time he’s learned enough for it to matter…” The Third mutters gravely, chin resting on two folded hands. “It’s very likely that he’ll be more us than him.”

The neutral set of The First’s mouth twists into a perturbed frown, nervous fingers shifting to move with even greater urgency. “That won’t happen. We won’t let it.”

The Second scoffs.

“I don't recall agreeing to that. Assuming he becomes functional when his consciousness fully catches up with ours, well… the more experience the better, I think, and with no chance of betrayal-”

“There isn’t any chance of betrayal as it is,” The First bites back, voice very nearly a growl. “We aren’t gambling with my nephew’s life.”

“Technically…” The Third raises a reluctant hand. “He would still be alive . Just… different. Extrapolating on your gambling metaphor, we aren’t exactly betting low here. An entire nation hangs in the balance, possibly the entire world, and as much as I understand your endearment towards your nephew, don’t you think that some sacrifices might be required here? He really is the last reliable vessel available for One For All, and if worst comes to worst and we discover that he’s incapable of doing what needs to be done… Yoichi, what if it’s him or the world? Can we trust you to make the right decision?”

“You think I’d side with my brother ?”

“If it meant saving the kid? Maybe.” The Second raises an accusatory eyebrow, stilling his feet just shy of The First’s chair. “You, Seventh, Eighth… you’re all incredibly strong of character, no one’s denying that, but your empathy does lend itself to a certain sentimentality, on occasion. The difference is that when it came down to Seventh’s kid, she was willing to sacrifice. If you don’t think you would do the same-”

“I’ve said all I intend to say. It won’t ever come to that .”

“Stop deflecting. This isn’t a difficult question. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.”

“I thought you trusted me enough to avoid these kinds of confrontations, or do my genetics matter more to you than you’ve let on?”

“You know that isn’t what this is about.”

“Do I? Is your faith in me real, or did you only help me all those years ago because you thought I was too weak to pose a real threat? You've always been good at making investments. Is that all I was to you?”

“Now isn’t the time for your insecurities to resurface, Yoichi.”

“I could say the same to you.”

The two hold each other's glares, the nonexistent air of the void somehow sparking with volatile energy. The scene remains, frozen, for a full beat, before The Third steps in to de-escalate, rising to place a gentle hand on each of the warring party’s shoulders. Both flinch, but neither shake him, and after a moment, he has their attention pinned on his yet unspoken words.

“I’m sorry, Yoichi. We’ve overstepped ourselves, and you have every right to be upset. I can completely understand how the two of us questioning your loyalty might reopen old wounds, and your concern for your nephew is only natural. That being said though, you have to make an effort to see things from our perspective too. Tensions are high here, and while hurting you is never our goal, we have an equal duty to ensure the safety of the citizens of Japan. Sometimes an idea may appear pragmatic, but if it hurts the people we’re trying to protect, then it obviously isn’t worth our time. I know you two care about each other, and I definitely know that you aren’t going to jeopardize a century-old relationship over a petty proxy argument.”

As The First lowers his head in silent consideration, The Third locks a set of narrowed eyes with the remaining vestige, imparting an unspoken message. 

“We need to exchange apologies and come to a compromise regarding this issue. No intentionally sacrificing Ninth, and no advising him to indulge in All For One’s methods, regardless of the risks otherwise. Are we in agreement?”

“Sure.” The Second’s eyes linger on The Third’s as he responds, granting his partner a drawn blink. “I’m sorry, Yoichi. You’re right. Ninth is a holder of One For All, and that means it’s our duty to help him achieve his full potential. Regardless of what you might say, you know that I trust you implicitly and love you enduringly. If you don’t want to hurt the kid, we won’t.”

“Thank you.” The First’s expression softens, taking on a hesitantly contrite quality. “I apologize if I ever did anything to suggest I would betray the two of you. I sincerely hope you're aware that I never would.”

The two nod in genuine agreement, eliciting a soft smile from the gestures' recipient.

“I need some time to myself, I think, to cool down and consider potential solutions. I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

“It’s fine.” The Second grants him a rare grin. “It happens to the best of us.”

"Thank you for your understanding."

With that, The First disappears, leaving the other two vestiges alone.

“Did that look mean what I think it did?”

“Quite possibly. While I agree that keeping Ninth… well, Ninth is ideal for Yoichi’s emotional health, it isn’t necessarily realistic at this point. The others are going to do what they can to hold back the progression of his condition regardless, so it’s unclear whether our intervention would even truly impact its development in a noticeable way. I don’t think we have much to lose. If we get the opportunity to plant some memories here and there, induce a few dreams encouraging the pursuit of the greater good for a night or two, well… all of us know how difficult this sort of thing is to control.”

“Not to mention that the kid is already so self-sacrificial besides. And if we were to speak to him directly, we already possess his near implicit trust. At the very least, we have his respect.”

“And what Yoichi doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Exactly.” The Second nods deliberately, eyes narrowed in evident contemplation. He’s hatching the beginnings of a plan. “In fact, it may even be fair to say that it’ll save him.”

When Izuku manages to drag himself out of bed the next morning following another worsening episode (and swept the head of a broken bedpost beneath his boxsprings, covering what remaining evidence he can, poorly, with a baseball cap) he reads his bedside clock to discover that the day is already half-gone.

He can’t help but imagine his coworkers – no, his friends –  patrolling – no, studying – without him. Until he remembers that he doesn’t have friends. Or a job. And he’s already graduated from school. Unless he hasn’t. Doesn’t he live in the wilderness? A world in shambles? He’s part of a resistance effort isn’t he? One with responsibilities that he must be failing to fulfill? Or perhaps-

Izuku takes several deep breaths, counting the beats between each. Rationalize. He needs to rationalize. He works through the particulars of where he is, the steps that led him there and the emotions tied to them. The events of the night before.

He’s at home, he knows that much, home in an apartment, not a cabin, or a suburban two-story, or a vault. A home that certainly isn’t his dorm (he’s a highschooler, or at least that’s what the ID in his wallet would suggest), because his well-meaning mother pulled him out of Yuuei (the broken arm, there’s lots of unpleasant memories there), where he’s (almost) certain he studied. 

Last night was important because a close relative he hasn’t seen in some time returned after being declared missing for months, a close relative he’d been extremely worried after, his-

His father. Hisashi. All For One .

Who is presumably still in the apartment. Alone, with his defenseless mother.

Without delay, Izuku rises from his place on the mattress, rushing over to his still unlocked bedroom door before forcing it open and rocketing down the hallway. He only allows his feet to still when, upon reaching the kitchen, he finds his mother seated at the table, a novel suspended in one hand as the other tends to a mug of coffee.

At the sound of Izuku’s entrance, she stirs, lifting her head to reveal a bright smile. The gesture only takes Izuku aback for a moment before he recalls the contents of his earlier chat with All For One. For whatever reason, the villain is attempting to maintain a sense of normalcy around the apartment, and although that notion itself is fairly disturbing for a variety of reasons, he can’t help but be grateful for the safety it ensures his mother.

“Finally up are we?” She asks, placing her book, facedown, on the tabletop. “You’ve slept half the day away, but you certainly won’t catch me complaining. I’m glad to see you’re getting your rest.”

Izuku recalls the night prior, hours spent pacing back and forth in frenzied, perpetual motion. His mother’s statement is far from accurate, but he allows her the misinterpretation. 

All For One’s warning rings in the back of his head, true and clear as day. His mother already thinks there’s something wrong with him, wrong enough to necessitate distrust. He hardly sees any reason to add fuel to the fire, especially when taking into account her already growing concern for his mental wellbeing. 

His childhood has always been a careful, cautious internal negotiation between withholding information and revealing it. He’s managed to strike a perfect balance in his teenage years; always enough of the truth to form a solid foundation, but never so much as to elicit dire concern.

If he can’t tell his mother about his father’s identity outright, then he might as well avoid worrying her elsewhere, even if the decision does play directly into All For One’s hands. The calmer he appears, the more credibility he can reclaim, and this late into the game, credibility is quite nearly the only leverage accessible to him.

He hasn’t given up on running of course, but doing so will require time and planning, especially now that he knows he can’t contact help. Search can be outmaneuvered, he’s certain of it, but without proper observation and analysis, it’s difficult to guess at how.

It may be best to trick All For One into a demonstration somehow, or perhaps, if his limited capacity theory holds true, convince the villain that another quirk could better fill its position in the roster. Either way, formulating a solid plan won’t be a simple task.

“Where’s All- uh, no, sorry, I mean where’s… um…” Izuku’s mind stumbles over various names, desperately searching for the proper title to fit his current scenario. 

He’s always referred to All For One as Hisashi in front of his mother, even though Hisashi himself had usually favored the title of brother. The recollection brings back spiteful memories of both sibling and parent, leaving a dark, bitter taste in his mouth.

Why is he even bothering to ask his mother? She’ll obviously just avoid the question, or worse, make him work for the answer. He can’t help but question the earlier concern he’d felt at the notion of causing her anxiety. It isn’t as though his emotional turmoil would’ve impacted her in the first place, especially not with his broken arm (how could Izuku have possibly broken his arm in the first place?) already inspiring such a burden.

“Your father?” His mother supplies, eyebrow raised and smile fading.

Izuku shakes his head, clearing away the mental miasma of incongruent memories. He has no idea which portions are unfitting, but Hisashi obviously isn’t the proper name for his father. Calling him by his first name would be a social misstep, one Izuku would never make naturally.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just, um… distracted. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Understandably.” A hand settles on Izuku’s head, tousling his hair in small, controlled motions. Before he can shake it, he feels that same, unnatural calm settle over his shoulders, smothering the initial shock of unexpected contact. “But there’s no need to fear. Soon enough, everything will be taken care of.”

All For One .

Something feels wrong about his entrance this time, notably moreso than during previous encounters. It takes Izuku a moment to properly distinguish the key difference.

He should’ve known that All For One was behind him. But he didn't. Which means that for whatever reason, Danger Sense failed to activate.

Izuku feels a sharp discomfort worm its way deep into his bones, finding its home in the spaces that even the villain’s emotional regulation quirk can’t reach. As much as Danger Sense has plagued him in the past from a comfort perspective, he’s always viewed it as a vital survival tool, a necessary pain endured for the purpose of security. If it’s somehow been stolen, broken , then he has no idea how he’s meant to respond. Has All For One managed to trick his quirk? Could he also trick Izuku?

A small part of himself, the part that still recognizes  the simple gesture of tousled hair as fatherly, suggests another possibility. Could it be that his father really doesn’t want to hurt him? Is there any small, lingering chance that his offers of help are genuine, even in the barest, most partial sense?

But no, he can’t afford to think like that. Too much rides on him now, too much always has.

He ducks away from the motion, raising a hand to smooth his already unbrushed hair.

“That’s right!” His mother’s grin returns full force, this time, pointed at the area just North of Izuku’s head. “Izuku, your father and I have been looking at academic alternatives all morning, and we’ve found some very compelling options. The majority of them are even higher ranked nationally than Yuuei, isn’t that exciting?”

Izuku wrinkles his nose, taking an involuntary step backward as All For One circles around to stand beside his mother. “That’s impossible. Yuuei is the most prestigious heroics school on the continent. I’m sure I’ve told you that before.”

“Ah, well…” His mother bites her lip, shooting her husband a nervous glance. “In terms of its heroics department alone, yes. But there are quite a few more academically rigorous schools in Japan from a core learning perspective, most of which offer similar tracks in hero management, support gear production, and quirk advisory services to Yuuei’s. Besides that, they also-”

“But I don’t want to study quirk analysis, or management, or support gear production.” 

Izuku hears the waver in his voice, and he can’t help but resent it. He needs to keep his cool now more than ever, but when he considers the possibility of being permanently barred from heroics, he can’t contain the anxiety that rises in his throat, harsh and biting.

His entire life he’s been labeled a burden by everyone within earshot, his mother, his brother, his classmates, his teachers. Although many of them won't say it, he knows what they view him as. A waste of space: useless, weak, fragile, and frail, hardly capable of being independent, much less useful.

Comic books had served as an escape well enough in his childhood, but now, presented with a chance to finally do something real, to wield a quirk and be a hero in the truest sense of the word, he’d rather die than let the opportunity slip through his fingers, especially as a result of his mother’s intervention.

“I’m supposed to be a hero, I’m-”

His thoughts stop in their tracks. What is he talking about? Why would he even need to argue in favor of attending a heroics school in the first place? He’s saved thousands of people already, imprisoned countless villains, why on Earth would he need anyone’s permission to continue being the only thing he’s ever truly been?

Heroics is his identity. Without it, he hardly exists to begin with.

“I’m already a hero.”

“But you aren’t.” His mother’s voice breaks on the last syllable, eyes clouding over with tears. “Fighting a few villains – villains that you definitely shouldn’t have been fighting in the first place – doesn’t make you a hero. Regardless of how impressive what you’ve accomplished may be, it was never your responsibility to accomplish it in the first place. Izuku, you’re a child , you shouldn’t have to worry about keeping the peace. It’s the responsibility of the adults in your life to build a safe world for you, not the other way around.”

Izuku can’t help but bristle at that. “I am not a child.”

“Ah, but that’s the issue, isn’t it?” All For One questions cooly, leaning into the table with one propped arm. “The fact that the most prominent authority figures in your life have horrifically failed to teach you proper limits and impress upon you the value of your own life above those of others displays gross negligence both on part of Yuuei’s staff and the system that employs them. You aren’t an adult Izuku, no matter how much responsibility those you respect have unfairly placed on your shoulders.”

A lifetime of condescension rushes to the forefront of Izuku’s memories, ushered by the tone of All For One’s voice and made all the more biting by the authority they carry. No matter how far he runs he can never escape this, his unwelcome guardian’s constant insistence of superiority, self-righteous advice, and twisted words, unrelentingly distorting the truth, but never in Izuku’s favor. He feels a fire rising to encircle his next words, and this time, same as all the others, he doesn’t make any efforts to extinguish it.

“You are so full of bullshit, Hisashi. You’re always making grand statements about maturity and responsibility, but we both know you have absolutely no concept of either word. Every decision you’ve ever made has been selfish, through and through, and you’d sooner die than consider someone else’s good above your own. I’d rather throw myself off a roof than listen to one more of your insights regarding bad influences, especially when we both know what you think a good influence looks like.”

“Izuku!” 

His mother’s gasp, high-pitched and strangled, drags him back to reality, rage withdrawing sharply before being replaced by the dull, familiar sting of regret.

He hasn't insulted his brother, he's insulted his father, and in front of his mother, no less. Izuku can't quite recall if the behavior is especially unnatural for him, but based solely on the fiercity of his mother's expression, he can certainly form a very educated guess.

“I know I’ve let your behavior slide in the past few days to account for the experiences you’ve endured, but speaking to your father like that is absolutely unacceptable, full stop! You need to apologize right now, or-”

A ringtone, bright and cheery, cleaves his mother’s sentence short, leaving her mouth hanging open in a shocked circle. After a beat of calm, her hand flicks to her pocket, removing her phone to discern the caller ID. She points to the screen, raising her head to pose an unspoken question to her husband.

“Take it. I’ll speak with Izuku in your absence.”

She grants him a curt, grateful nod before speeding off, cell already raised to one ear. As soon as she passes the threshold of the hallway, All For One turns his focus to Izuku, a light smile playing on his lips.

Izuku recalls the sudden rage that had overtaken him at his the villain's words, far too strong to have survived under the full influence of such a potent regulatory quirk. The way that sobriety had settled over him with unnatural rapidity following the conclusion of his rant.

Something clicks.

“You did that on purpose.” Izuku blinks. “You temporarily lifted the effects of your quirk. You were baiting me, weren’t you?”

“I was baiting your uncle.” All For One takes a seat in the table’s most recently vacated chair, posture mockingly relaxed. “And it seems it worked. He never was the most proficient in matters of restraint.”

The insult elicits an involuntary scowl.

“You said you wanted to help me.”

“And I do. Help can come in many forms.”

“Mom already distrusts me enough as it is,  you said so yourself. What you’re doing right now is beyond excessive.”

All For One chuckles at that, still wearing the same taunting grin as always. Something stirring in Izuku's memories desperately wishes he had the freedom and full emotional capacity to punch it off his face. “Perhaps. I suppose we’ll have to wait and see if this new tactic bears any tangible results.”

“You seem awfully smug for someone who’s supposedly fighting a losing battle,” Izuku challenges, crossing both arms over his chest. “The lapse in judgment I just displayed is indicative of my progressing condition, isn’t it? Have you lost interest in preventing it?”

“Hardly. If anything, this little display of yours has served to renew its vigor. No, my current calm is the direct result of tested methods and proper planning. While I still lack the ability to take your quirk without your willing consent, I do possess a very compelling temporary solution that you may be interested in exploring.”

Despite the rage still pulsing, dully, in Izuku’s chest, his heart leaps at All For One’s claim. A solution to his condition completely separate from the removal of his quirk sounds far too good to be true. Which, following a moment of rationalization, Izuku realizes must be the case.

Nothing All For One offers is without its price.

Even so, it can’t hurt to investigate further, not if the investigation doesn’t exceed the realm of hypotheticals, at least.

“Fine, I’ll bite. What’s your solution?”

The man's grin widens to display twin rows of bone-white teeth. “As I’m sure you’re already aware, I adopted a very interesting quirk directly prior to our initial reunion, the selfsame quirk that allowed me to restore my current appearance.”

“Rewind!” Izuku’s posture straightens in realization. “You can reverse the progression of One For All’s new feature back to a time before it became an issue! I don’t know why I didn’t consider it before! It’s the perfect win-win solution, it’s bullet-proof, it’s-”

Izuku’s eyes meet with All For One’s, and his excitement dissipates entirely.

“It’s incredibly easy to exploit.”

“How so?” The villain tilts his head to the side, eyes alight with interest. “If I were to turn your body back to a time before your quirk existed, then I’d lose the prize I’ve been chasing tirelessly for over a century; doing so is unthinkable. One For All has already progressed beyond the point where this particular aspect of its character is reversible; because of the nature of stockpile, all alterations to its composition are final. This condition is integral to its character, irreversibly so, but I have a use for it regardless, and the means of maintaining it permanently, as evidenced by my possession of Rewind. As its most suitable potential caretaker, I see no benefits to erasing it entirely. Your precious quirk’s integrity is assured.”

"To the contrary, Hisashi, if experience is to be believed, you’re the death of all integrity, quirk or no.” Izuku gives a bitter smile. “But depending on the precision you wield over Rewind as well as its innate capabilities, who’s to say you couldn’t send my mental state into retrograde? You hardly ever shut up about how much easier I was to manage at a young age. I certainly wouldn’t put it past you.”

“I believe I originally spoke those words to your uncle, but their relevance remains intact. Unfortunately, Rewind is an incredibly unwieldy quirk, and my control over its intricacies is far from precisie. I’ve always preferred additive quirks with immediate ease of use over those that require great deals of individual attention to refine, and as loath as I am to admit it, I’m far from mastering the nuances of its application. Even if I am to conquer it, however, you can rest assured that your current stage of mental development will remain. I value your intelligence and freely-given loyalty far too highly to risk either.”

Izuku narrows his eyes. “So you do plan on using me for something?”

“Your uncle’s influence has made you paranoid.” 

All For One's voice takes on a bitter quality, but there's something else to it too. Nostalgia, maybe, or perhaps some form of regret. 

Izuku can't help but flinch from the sound, complex emotions assaulting his psyche in response to the potential show of vulnerability. There's every likelihood that it's an act, of course, but even that knowledge that does nothing to quell the emotions that rise in response.

As terrible as All For One is, he and Izuku did grow up together, and there are good memories there along with the bad, as corrupted as they may be by the knowledge of future actions. Hisashi's form of caring was always twisted, undeniably and irreparably so, but he did care, even during a time when no one else did.

“Izuku, I genuinely value your company and insight. My motives are entirely pure, I promise you. Perhaps I employed a poor choice of words, but that does nothing to degrade the truth of my concern for you. You’re my son.”

Izuku wants to believe his father’s claim, he really, truly does. But when he examines his face, he finds that his current mask of parental distress doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Or at least, he thinks it doesn’t. The differences are always so minute when it comes to Hisashi, so easy to misinterpret.

Izuku recalls Kotaro. Tenko.

Whatever small glimmer of hope he feels fades.

“Don’t,” He responds simply, diverting his gaze. “I’m not allowing you to use any quirk on me, Rewind included. If you try, I'll fight back.”

“Fine then. Have it your way.” Oddly enough, All For One’s expression doesn’t fall at the rejection. If anything, it brightens, the corners of his mouth upturning to reclaim their previous grin. “But remember that what occurred today with your mother is only a precursor to the greater issues you’ll experience. You’ll request my help eventually, the only question remains in the amount of discomfort you’ll choose to endure first.”

“You're wrong,” Izuku counters, though he’d trade anything to infuse even a sliver of confidence in his words. 

All For One eases away the quirk again, allowing Izuku’s anxiety to float to the surface, and the conflicting emotions hit him like a tidal wave in a storm. He did embarrass himself in front of his mother, did mistake The First’s experiences for his own, did wake up in an unfamiliar room he now knows he’s slept in a million times over, did discover that he’s being forcibly removed from the path of heroics, did -

The emotions cut off all at once, and Izuku releases a breath he’d had no idea he was holding. As his shoulders drop their tension, he stares down at the floor, already regretting his moment of weakness.

“That isn’t very fatherly, you know. Forcing me to suffer just so you can prove a point.”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything. You’re choosing to suffer voluntarily. If you’d really rather I step in, all you need to do is say the word.”

Izuku grits his teeth, shaking his head with attempted resolve.

“Of course.” All For One sighs, resting his head on a hand. “You’d best drop that glare. Your mother is about to return, and I expect you’re still set on putting up a strong front."

Begrudgingly, Izuku does as he’s told, returning his expression to as neutral a position as he can muster. Moments later, his mother walks in, passing her phone worriedly from hand to hand. She pulls out a chair to sit beside her husband, earlier anger evidently forgotten. 

“You look troubled,” All For One notes, smugness dissipating to leave a convincing show of concern in its wake. “Who called?”

“Izuku’s teachers.” She continues to worry at the contents of her hands as she speaks, eyes trained on the floor. “Yagi specifically, though I think Aizawa was present as well. Oh! Hisashi, I might have forgotten to mention it previously, but Yagi is All Might’s real name. He doesn’t bother hiding it anymore after-”

“Kamino, yes.” The villain’s smile fails to reach his eyes. “Continue.”

“Well, the two of them asked if they could visit to check up on Izuku and see if they could convince us to let him continue attending Yuuei.”

Izuku has never seen his father wear an expression quite so strained. “And you declined, of course?”

“Well, that’s the thing.” She offers an apologetic frown, shoulders rising and falling in a minute shrug. “Yagi can be very polite when he wants to be, and, well, I was a tad extreme with him the last time we spoke. He was so concerned for Izuku too, asking after his health and happiness, and one thing led to another, I suppose. I made it very clear that I don’t plan on altering my verdict, but he means so much to Izuku, you understand, and I thought one last dinner certainly couldn’t hurt, at least as a final goodbye.”

Izuku blinks, warring reactions fighting for purchase in his psyche. While he obviously wants nothing more than to see All Might, to update him on the new intricacies of his situation and receive help in escaping them, he can’t help but recall All For One’s earlier threat.

All Might had only barely scraped by against All For One when both were at full power. A fight between the two now would entail an almost unthinkable gap in capability, a conflict so skewed as to provide no opportunity for upset. The battle would be over in an instant.

But as he monitors All For One’s reaction, he can’t help but note his obvious and growing frustration. As long as Izuku’s mother is present, All For One can’t act, and while that may only be a miniscule advantage, it’s still worthy of consideration. Assuming a meeting between the two is unavoidable, Izuku can imagine All Might departing unscathed, given he manages to maintain the carefully constructed veneer of normalcy All For One has built. As soon as he leaves the apartment, though…

Izuku supposes that his mentor has always been a target regardless, and the life of a hero isn’t without its gambles. He should know how to react in such a situation, given he properly assesses the risks.

Even so, Izuku can’t help but shift nervously on his feet, exchanging an equally disgruntled look with his still reeling father.

“Inko, I thought we discussed this.”

“We did.” His mother raises her head, eyes alight with a rare, stubborn fire. “And I agree with you. All Might certainly is a bad influence. But that doesn’t change the fact that Izuku will miss him. He’s dealing with enough change already, easing him into things a bit can only help, and this is hardly a big concession. It’s one dinner, Hisashi.”

After testing his wife’s gaze and finding it true, All For One raises a hand to his temple, nodding in begrudging consensus. “When is this dinner scheduled?”

“A week from now, exactly. They wanted sooner, but I thought it’d be best to determine Izuku’s schooling situation first so we have a stronger argument, if it comes to it.”

“Ah.” 

Something shifts in the man’s expression. Although his earlier confidence doesn’t completely return, a shadow of it does, and Izuku can’t help but feel a spike of anxiety at the change. Why would more time be treated as such a considerable asset? Is it possible that All For One is banking off the progression of his condition in some way? Or does he have a plan in the works, something to prevent All Might's visit before it has the chance to occur?

Izuku stifles an involuntary shiver.

All For One nods in evident approval. “A very sound decision on your part.”

“I certainly thought so.” The pause between words is filled with a confident grin. “Now, Izuku, I know what you’re thinking, but-”

“Yeah, no returning to Yuuei. I know,” he finishes, trying his best not to glare. “You were very clear on that point.”

“Right.” His mother nods with renewed conviction, obviously empowered by her son’s even reaction. “I’m sorry to discuss all of this in front of you, Izuku, but it’s been some time since either of us have really… well, I suppose co-parented may be the proper word. Your father and I-”

“It’s fine. I understand.” 

Izuku’s stomach lurches a bit at the denotation. Despite the fact that he now knows, unquestionably, that his father is All For One, it’s still somewhat difficult to reconcile his new realization with what it implies in regards to his mother. He certainly can’t imagine her marrying a villain, but at the same time, he supposes even he has to admit that All For One can put on a convincing front of morality when it benefits him. If it weren't for the vestiges’ interference, he’d still be under its influence, same as her.

He just wishes she weren’t so set on blindly trusting her husband’s opinion, especially in areas concerning Yuuei.

His mother grants him a first uneven, then tentative, smile in response to his apparent compliance, voice maintaining a decidedly taken aback quality despite its surface calm. “I’m glad.”

Before anyone has the chance to speak next, All For One produces a cellphone from his pocket, eyes scanning over a notification before he rises, unceremoniously from his chair. “I’m afraid I need to attend to a work engagement. If you’ll excuse me for a moment…”

Both parties nod, one more decisively than the other, before the villain departs for the apartment’s home office, leaving mother and son to speak in private.

Which is favorable. If All For One is determined to sow seeds of distrust between family members, then Izuku has no choice but to show him the desired consequences.

The games he and Hisashi used to play as children were designed for two, after all.

“Has it been like this all day?” Izuku questions evenly, moving to lean against the kitchen counter. “Dad coming in and out for work, I mean?”

“Yes. He’s very busy catching up, I think.”

“Of course he is.” There’s no venom in Izuku’s words, just cold, factual certainty. “You took dad’s excuse pretty easily, didn’t you? The whole company mishap thing?”

His mother’s nose wrinkles. “Look, Izuku, I know that you’re upset with your father and I, but that’s no excuse to accuse him of lying about something as serious and potentially emotionally scarring as his disappearance.”

“I’m not accusing him of anything,” he lies. “Just suggesting that the topic might be worth further investigation. If things really did happen like dad says they did, then there should be an article on it somewhere, or at the very least, a police record. Big corporations can’t get away with accidents like this without huge repercussions, and the media would have a field day with a story this unique. I think it’s definitely worth a quick search.”

“That really isn’t necessary.” His mother’s voice falters, just a bit, as she takes a moment to consider her son's words. “Your father and I trust each other.” 

“Alright. I just thought that if there was even a chance of dad hiding something from you, you’d want to know. I mean… you still have no idea where he works, do you? Isn’t that a little odd?”

“Izuku,” his mother repeats sternly, arms crossed. There may be conviction in her voice, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll back off.” Izuku departs for the hallway, pausing, briefly, in its threshold, to deliver one last attempt. “But you should know. When I searched his name online last night, I couldn’t find a thing.”

He isn’t certain if she takes the bait or not. He’s too concerned with maintaining an air of nonchalance to check.

Either way, he’s made All For One’s life at least a bit more difficult, and for now, he supposes that small victory will have to be enough.