Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As per his ritual, Izuku checked both doors to his right, confirmed Bakugou wasn’t near despite knowing he wasn’t, and ensured his other classmates weren’t watching him. Same as a couple minutes ago. 

“Let’s see here. Katsuki Bakugou…” their teacher trailed off. “Bakugou, you’re aiming for U.A., right?”

The classroom erupted into chatter, everyone muttering about Bakugou’s likelihood of attending a school with an acceptance rate of .2 percent for its hero course. As his classmates debated, Izuku stayed silent. He prayed their teacher wouldn’t mention the other student who had selected U.A. as his first choice, back when he’d thought submitting the school’s name would be enough to motivate him. 

Well, maybe it was. He wasn’t sure whether he would take the entrance exam. If he were accepted — which was unlikely already — would it be worth it to try? He would like to think it was.  

As Bakugou boasted about how he would become the next All Might, Izuku kept his head down, his eyes trained on the marred surface of his desk. The many carvings of ‘ quirkless’ had long been scratched out and replaced with ‘ villain’ or ‘ thief .’ Usually, he kept the words hidden under one of his notebooks. But he’d already packed his materials away. Now, he stared at the words with his teeth clenched hard enough to make his jaw sore. Eventually, he forced himself to look away and shifted his arm to cover the worst of the carvings. 

“You’re also going for U.A., aren’t you, Midoriya?” 

Bakugou froze in his position on the top of his desk, which he had jumped onto during his rant about his future as the Number One Hero. The haughty grin on his face soon turned into a snarl, with one side of his lips curling up to show his teeth. He looked over his shoulder at Izuku and glared. 

The rest of the class erupted into whispers among themselves, none difficult to hear. With each comment, Izuku shrank further into himself. His cheeks were growing uncomfortably warm. He hid the lower half of face behind his arms, covering his cheeks while still giving himself a full view of the classroom. Fighting back tears, he could only hope his classmates wouldn’t notice. 

Bakugou jumped down from his desk, so Izuku’s head shot up. Izuku had done it quickly, as he was well aware Bakugou would notice and consider it a testament to Izuku’s inferiority. Therefore, Izuku might just be able to escape unharmed later.

With a scowl and a few mighty stomps over to Izuku’s desk, Bakugou slammed a hand down on the scratched surface. An explosion lit up between his fingertips. In a flash, the force of a controlled blast threw Izuku into the wall not far behind his chair. Sparks crackling on his palms, Bakugou leaned forward, glaring down his nose at Izuku as he cowered. He knew Izuku wouldn’t try to take his Quirk. They both did. 

Izuku pressed himself against the wall, eyes darting left and right in an attempt to find the easiest escape route despite knowing them by heart. Still, he knew better than to bolt away from Bakugou in such a position. It would irritate him, which would lead to a nastier burn than the one Izuku would receive if he navigated their interaction well. So he bit his tongue, hard enough to hurt but not enough to bleed. He dug his fingernails into the wooden floor. Protecting his face with his hands wouldn’t do him any good either, so he didn’t. 

“Forget these extras and their crappy Quirks. You’ve got the worst Quirk anyone could have. Do you really think you can become a hero?” His eyes narrowed. “You think you can rub shoulders with me?”

No matter what Izuku said, no matter what he claimed, Bakugou would think the worst. Bakugou had to know Izuku would never consider himself superior, and yet, for a reason he couldn’t fathom, Bakugou never accepted his words. Wasn’t it obvious that Izuku was weaker? Yet Bakugou kept asking as if he were waiting for Izuku to challenge him. Or as if he needed confirmation that Izuku knew his place. Whatever the reason, Izuku could only speak the truth. The worst reaction to the truth would be better than the worst to any lie he could come up with. 

“I know I can’t compete with you,” Izuku said, letting his voice shake. His fingernails dug harder into the panels of the floor. “I… I don’t think I’m going to, um, apply to U.A. anymore.” 

“So you’ve come to your senses.”

Izuku kept his eyes trained on Bakugou’s face, if only to see what fate awaited him. Biting down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste the tang of blood on his tongue, he kept his lips pressed firmly shut. Agreeing with Bakugou, while truthful, would lead to another burn scar to match the collection already scattered along his skin.  

Before Bakugou could say more, their teacher interrupted, “Okay, let’s calm down, everyone. Bakugou, Midoriya, please take your seats. I haven’t dismissed you yet.” 

Izuku flinched when Bakugou shot him the most violent scowl he had seen that day. That week, even. After a moment that dragged on far too long, Bakugou turned around, heading back to his desk at the front of the classroom. When he’d taken his seat, and his eyes stayed directed forward, Izuku picked himself off the floor quietly. 

He took his seat in the back. It was the closest seat to the door he’d been able to snag that year. Thumbing over the crude carvings on his desk, his eyes burned with tears that he refused to let fall. To calm himself, he put a hand on his left shoulder and pressed down with the heel of his palm. The action shot pain across his skin. Breathing in deeply, Izuku blinked back his tears and stared ahead, where his teacher was saying something. 

His hand itched for his latest hero analysis notebook, Hero Analysis for the Future No.13, but he knew better than to leave it in his backpack. It had been years since he last left one in his bag. That day, he’d taken it out to add something during their lunch period and Bakugou had burned it between his fingers. He’d found it best to leave it in the safety of his bedroom since then. It wasn’t ideal, since writing in his hero journals (usually) never failed to help him destress— as long as he didn’t think of how the effort of writing them could all be for naught. 

With his fingers dancing along one strap of his backpack and his leg bouncing under his desk, Izuku waited for the bell. If Bakugou called out to him as soon as the bell chimed, he would be forced to stay. Darting out of the room before Bakugou could reach him would lead to a worse scar the next morning. However, on the off chance he didn’t say anything, Izuku would take it. (And hope that the punishment the next day would be no worse than usual.) He rarely forgot, or, more accurately, was rarely in a better mood, but Izuku could hope. 

The bell rang across campus.

As Izuku hesitated for half a second, Bakugou snapped, “We ain’t done here, Deku.” Standing up, back hunched and hands in his pockets as he strolled over, he still loomed over Izuku in his seat. “Don’t you fucking lie to me. Have you finally learned your place?”  

Izuku knew exactly what he should do— he should bow his head, nod slightly, and not say a word. So that was what he did. 

“So you’ve given up being a hero,” Bakugou stated, though he clearly wanted confirmation. 

Izuku stared at Bakugou’s shoes. “I don’t… think there’s a point.”

“Damn right,” he laughed. “All you can ever be is a Quirk-stealing villain. But you don’t want to be a villain, right? Well, if you really don’t want to be a villain, why don’t you pray for a decent Quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof? Until then, maybe stick to becoming some D-ranked villain’s sidekick.” 

With that, Izuku bit down hard on his tongue. His mouth filled with the familiar taste of blood once again. He bent his head down, letting the curled strands of his hair hang down and hopefully cover the top half of his face. He watched Bakugou’s shoes carefully. If Bakugou was about to strike, his feet would move in a way Izuku was decidedly familiar with. 

“You know what, that’d be great,” Bakugou said. Izuku couldn’t see his face. But, if he had to take an educated guess, he’d say Bakugou was tapping his chin with his finger, pretending to consider a new idea. “Don’t bother offing yourself. Just make sure to become a villain, and then I can kick your ass when I become a Pro.” 

Izuku forced his head up, locking eyes with Bakugou, well aware of his pitiful expression— it was what he wanted to show. It would give Bakugou a feeling of satisfaction that would disarm him. Would make him less likely to use his Quirk. And it worked, because the silence dragged on for a moment, and when it had lasted a little too long, Bakugou slammed his hand down on Izuku’s desk. Izuku flinched violently backwards. With a laugh, Bakugou lifted his hand and stepped away. Then, as he started towards the door, he said, “It’s not even worth burning you.” 

Now alone, Izuku reached down and grabbed his bag with trembling fingers. He let them rest there, eyes on the clock as the second hand ticked by agonizingly slowly. When ten minutes had passed, and he was confident he wouldn’t run into Bakugou or his friends, he heaved his bag up onto his right arm. He positioned it in such a way that he could balance it on the one shoulder. Years of practice made the task easy. 

The walk back home seemed longer than it had any right to be, but it had been that way for years. So Izuku trudged home, a mantra in his brain. He wasn’t a villain. And he wouldn’t become one, because his villainous Quirk didn’t have to define him. But he supposed it could define his career, because how many would be willing to see him as a hero? 

As he approached the underpass he passed every day, he swallowed hard. His tongue stung as he swiped it under a sharp canine. Focusing on the sting let him regain control of his thoughts, replacing the voice that told him he could never be a hero with the comfort that stemmed from focusing on the pain. 

The warmth from the sunlight beating down on his face disappeared as he walked into the shade created by the bridge above. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he was met with the sight of the sewer grate up ahead turning. Immediately coming to a stop, Izuku stared with furrowed brows. It hit a snag only to jerk open. He took a step back. 

He’d been far too late. 

A flash of sewer-green something barreled in his direction, and Izuku had no time to blink before it was upon him. A mass of sludge coiled around his waist and around his arms, pinning them to his sides as he struggled helplessly. His blunt fingernails tore at nothing. His muscles refused to cooperate. The slime clogged his nose, and his heartbeat started to roar in ears as he opened his mouth, desperate for air. The sludge slithered down his throat. Pain shot through his body, unbearable in a way that promised death. 

He was going to suffocate.

With the last shreds of his consciousness, he forced his fingers to spread, against every fiber of his brain telling him not to. The action sapped the last of his strength. His body gave out, and he collapsed.

… 

Izuku jerked awake to the sound of someone yelling. Well, maybe not yelling, but definitely talking loud enough to make his head throb. His eyes shot open as he shot two fingers to his throat to check his pulse, only to realize both his hand and neck weren’t solid. Glancing down, his body was a moving mass of that same slime. His arms and legs were barely discernible. The urge to vomit bubbled up his throat. 

“Are you all right there, young man?” someone asked, his voice deep, resonant, and awfully familiar. 

Izuku glanced up, then away when his eyes landed on the figure just above him. Towering over him was the Pro Hero that inspired millions, the hero that had saved millions, the hero that Bakugou was destined to become as powerful as. Belatedly, Izuku breathed, “All Might.” 

“Glad to see you’re okay, young man. You had me worried there. Apologies for getting you caught up in my villain hunt.” He glanced back at a man tied up behind him, body lying limp on the asphalt. “But I must ask you, what is your Quirk? I almost apprehended you instead of the villain.” He motioned towards the man again. 

Izuku dropped his head, letting the messy strands hide his eyes. He stared at All Might’s shoes. “I- well...” He couldn’t refuse to answer the Symbol of Peace, of all people. Still, he wasn’t exactly inclined to reveal the one Quirk that even All Might might not be able to truthfully say could be heroic. “It’s- well, it’s...” 

“The ability to take another person’s Quirk and use it as your own?”

Izuku nodded, eyes downcast. He forced his eyes upwards to gauge All Might’s reaction, and he couldn’t say it was a pleasant one. The Pro had a smile on his face as always, but it was tight around the edges. He was clearly unable to think of a response that wouldn’t be too harsh. 

“I know it’s a villain’s Quirk,” Izuku said. He tried to smile, but he could feel how awkward and unconvincing it was, so he dropped it. “Can I, um... Can I give his Quirk back?” 

“Oh, yes,” All Might said. He pulled two plastic bottles from his pockets, and Izuku wondered how they’d managed to fit, even in his cargo shorts. It was strange seeing him out of his hero costume, but the villain must’ve caught him during the little time he had to himself. “When he tries to use his Quirk, I’ll wrestle him into these.” 

Izuku nodded and stood up slowly, unable to suppress the Quirk. He shuffled his way towards the man. Dropping to his moldable knees, he reached out. He placed a cold, slimy hand on the man’s arm and willed the Quirk to flow back to its owner. After a few long seconds of attempting to consciously use a Quirk for the first time in seven years, it worked. 

Once he’d rid his body of the sludge, the injuries he’d sustained from the attack drifted to the forefront of his mind. His throat felt raw, and every breath sent fire shooting through his lungs. Still, it was something he could manage. It was somewhat necessary for someone in his position. Maybe it was the constant ache in his joints, which had manifested a few years ago, that was to blame for the adjustment. Or maybe just Bakugou. 

All Might forced the villain’s body turned sludge into the plastic bottles, the man unable to escape every blow from All Might’s superpowered punches. Air billowed out from the sheer force. Once his work was complete, the villain caged behind plastic, he turned back to Izuku. 

“It is not a villain’s Quirk unless you are a villain, my boy. It is what you do with it that determines whether it is villainous or not.” 

Izuku stared at him. “Do you… really believe that?”

“Of course.”

“You... do you think I could become a hero? Even with my Quirk? Even when nobody agrees with you?” 

For a moment, All Might seemed to hesitate, but his smile stayed unwavering on his face. At first, Izuku tensed, but then All Might said, “It would be difficult, I cannot deny that. But I believe you can be a hero,” and Izuku’s shoulders dropped. And, just like that, he was crying. But he was smiling as well. 

He could be a hero. Had he ever heard those words before?

“Have you considered applying to U.A.?”

Izuku tilted his head. Did that question have anything to do with the rumors of All Might becoming a teacher at U.A. this year? 

Izuku nodded, sniffling. “I have. Well, I, um... did. It used to be my dream school. Or… it is. Maybe.”   

“I believe you should apply. I would say you have a good chance of being admitted into the hero course.” 

He opened his mouth, hoping to find something to say when he did, but he didn’t. For the most part, he’d stopped crying, but now he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t start up again. 

Of course, it was possible that All Might was only suggesting the option to appease him for fear of what he’d do otherwise. He had the Quirk of a villain, after all. If All Might destroyed his dreams now, he’d take the option that was expected of him since the day his Quirk manifested. Was All Might only encouraging him to put an end to a potential threat? To be able to supervise him? 

No, he shouldn’t think like that. Here the Symbol of Peace was, telling him the one thing he’d been craving to hear for nearly a decade. Izuku wasn’t going to doubt him. Even if All Might was indeed looking to control him, the fact remained the same that he had said Izuku could become a hero. Why would he lie about that? Would he lie when, if it weren’t possible, Izuku would eventually reach the same conclusion and become a villain in his indignation? 

Maybe Izuku could be a hero. All Might wouldn’t know personally if it were possible. His Quirk was too heroic for that. And while Izuku couldn’t name a hero with a Quirk truly comparable to his — and he knew just about every Pro Hero in every hero-centric country, including the major underground heroes in Japan — there were some with seemingly villainous Quirks. The Top 10 List of Heroes with Villainous Quirks didn’t exist for nothing. 

Maybe Izuku really could get into a hero course. And become a hero. And prove to everyone that he wasn’t villainous— that villainous Quirks didn’t exist. 

“You… you really think so?” Izuku asked, but it was a stupid question. He shook his head. “I’ll do it. I’ll apply. Thank you.” 

The sound of a blast of wind startled Izuku out of his thoughts, and he hoped All Might hadn’t seen his instinctual flinch. But he couldn’t have, because he was surrounded by steam. Where it had come from, Izuku had no clue. 

When the steam cleared, Izuku was met with the sight of a scrawny man, his face sunken like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. His eyes darted around the dark underpass, searching for the All Might he’d grown up watching. He turned up empty. No, the scrawny man’s bright blond hair and black sclera and blue irises were the same as All Might’s. Had he been hit by a Quirk? But nobody else was in the area. 

“All- All Might? What happened?”

The man sighed, and a little rivulet of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. He swiped it away with the back of his hand without looking to see if he was even bleeding. Was it really that common an occurrence?  

“Now you’ve seen the real me, kid. Don’t go telling anyone about this, okay?” 

Izuku stood in silence, gaping. What had happened to All Might’s more muscular form? Had he always had two forms, or was this a new development? Was it permanent or temporary? If he was bleeding from the corner of his mouth, he was likely injured internally. And while that seemed to be something that should be temporary, he would have already sought aid from the best doctors the country (or world) could offer, so it didn’t make much sense for him to be so casually bleeding unless he’d resigned himself to that life. Izuku found it best not to voice anything, figuring the hero wouldn’t answer his questions anyway. So he waited for All Might to explain himself in a way he deemed appropriate for a civilian to hear. 

“Five years ago,” All Might started, pulling the hem of his shirt up to reveal an old, gruesome gash in his side, “a villain did this to me. I went through countless surgeries, and I’ve wasted away because of them. I can only do my hero work for about three hours a day now.”

Izuku cringed at the sight of the wound. “Five years ago? Was that when...?” Izuku began, but he didn’t finish his thought, as any villain that came to mind surely couldn’t have done so much damage. Not to the Number One. 

“This fight was never made public. So I’ll ask that you keep it a secret.” 

“Of course,” Izuku said. “But… why tell me so much?”

All Might sighed. “Anyone who saw this,” he said, gesturing from his face to his feet, “would have questions. And they’d be more likely to voice them online if I didn’t offer an explanation. They would be too curious to find an answer. There is still a chance you’ll reveal my secret, but I trust you won’t.” He gave Izuku a pointed look. 

Izuku nodded. “I’ll keep it a secret.”

“Thank you,” All Might said, patting his pockets — where he’d stuck both bottles — to ensure the villain was still inside of them. He started toward the end of the tunnel on the side that Izuku had come from originally. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should be getting this villain to the police station.”

As All Might turned to leave, Izuku squeezed his eyes shut for a quick moment before opening them again, a smaller-than-before but stupid smile on his face. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll try for U.A. I’ll try my best to be a hero.” 

The Pro turned his head to meet Izuku’s eyes. “I wish you the best of luck, young man.” 

As All Might shifted back into the form Izuku and the rest of the world recognized, jumped up with his Quirk aiding him, and disappeared onto the top of a nearby building, Izuku watched him go. 

Maybe, just maybe, Izuku could be a hero.  

...

Chapter Text

The first thing Izuku did after All Might disappeared was text his mother, who’d left three missed calls and five texts on his home screen. After assuring her he was all right, he threw his backpack over his right shoulder and started back home.

He walked without care for the wounds he’d gained. His tongue still stung when it brushed against the back of his teeth, and his throat still felt like it had been scraped raw, and his shoulder still throbbed. But every ache and pain had been pushed to the back of his mind. He doubted he’d even need to scavenge his X-ACTO knife from beneath the pile of notebooks in his bottom left drawer when he got home.

Instead, he couldn’t help but replay All Might’s parting words in his head: I’ll wish you the best of luck. All Might wanted him to become a hero. All Might wanted him to succeed, so maybe his intentions didn’t matter. Well, they did, of course, but maybe Izuku could see only what he wanted to see for the sake of motivation. The sake of necessity.

Sure, his Quirk was villainous— or maybe not, if he chose to believe All Might’s idea that some Quirks weren’t innately villainous. But even if All Might believed that, nobody else did. Still, his Quirk wasn’t useless. If he managed to get into the most well-respected hero school in the country — Eraserhead’s alma mater — and never stole his peers’ Quirks, he had a chance to prove he wasn’t a villain. Didn’t he? There was a chance he could become a hero. He could become the person he had dreamed of becoming ever since everyone had started to avoid him, rather than settling for a career as a Quirk analyst.

There wasn’t much of a precedent, considering his Quirk was one of a kind. A Pro Hero, above-ground or underground, had never been documented with a Quirk that allowed its user to steal other Quirks.

But there was one hero who few knew existed but Izuku loved dearly, and that was one underground hero by the name of Eraserhead. While Izuku stole Quirks, he erased them. Though it wasn’t the same, it was by far the closest Quirk to Izuku’s that he had ever found. The commonality they shared was there: both took away Quirks that did not and would never belong to them. Izuku’s was far worse, of course, but still.

(It was why Izuku had a poster of Eraserhead on the wall above his desk in his bedroom. Though he wished he could have a figurine to match, Eraserhead was too unknown. Such was the reality of an underground hero. But Izuku could understand the want to remain out of the spotlight, where above-ground Pro Heroes were constantly assailed by fans asking for autographs, the press asking for interviews, and the public judging their every move.)

He had a chance. It was what he would believe when he applied to U.A. and walked through its enormous front doors to take the entrance exam. Because what had he been thinking, deciding it would be best to give up and rewrite the list — at least in his head, as he could only submit his form once — of his top choice high schools?

If All Might had wished him luck, wanted him to succeed, who would he be to go against his wishes?

Izuku would do his best to become a hero, and he wouldn’t stop until he succeeded.

So, with a newfound energy in his step, Izuku headed home. He wove his way through the suburb, following one sidewalk to the next and dodging anyone who was walking in the opposite direction. It was a warm day without a cloud in the sky to block the sun, so whenever Izuku looked up, he had to shield his eyes with his hand. He didn’t mind at all.

When he opened the front door to their apartment, his mother shot up from where she’d been lying on the sofa in the living area.

“Izuku! What happened? Why were you out so late?” she asked, greeting him by shuffling over in her slippers. She stopped just before she was in reaching distance of him as he shut the door and locked it.

He gave her an apologetic grin. “I, um, well... I met All Might. He told me I could be a hero.”

For a moment, she stared at him like she couldn’t quite understand what he’d said. Considering he’d just mentioned he’d met the most popular Pro Hero in the world, it was a reasonable reaction. Finally, her eyes widened, then softened.

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Sweetie.”

Her voice was certainly happy, and Izuku couldn’t ignore that. Still, he also couldn’t ignore the tinge of fear that blighted each word. It was something he’d deciphered years ago, when he had picked up on his mother’s neverending concern: what did Izuku’s peers think of him? Though he supposed it was unfair to blame it solely on that, when she also worried that he would get himself killed.

“But how did you run into each other?”

“I, well, um… I might’ve seen a villain… and thought a Pro would show up soon,” he lied. No reason to make her worry more than necessary.

She frowned at him. “I thought you’d finally stopped that.” She circled around him, checking for injuries, but he’d checked to ensure his clothes had been left intact after the sludge disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “The villain was just… right there. I wasn’t checking for fights in the area, I promise! He really was right there. But it won’t happen again. Promise.”

She gave him a skeptical look, to which he matched with an awkward smile. After promising to help with dinner in a couple hours, he fled to his bedroom. He dug through his backpack until he pulled out his homework, settled down in the office chair at his desk, and repositioned his All Might figurine to sit next to his Gang Orca figurine rather than behind it. He flipped open his notebook to the first blank page and plucked a pencil from the wire cup to his right. His homework went by quickly, his speed a result of the safety of his bedroom.

Assignments complete, he pulled open the top right drawer of his desk and retrieved Hero Analysis for the Future No.11. The cover was permanently bent upwards despite the trouble he’d gone through to store it upside down and under stacks of his other notebooks. The covers of the others were in the same condition.

Stalling, he thumbed through this journal’s pages dedicated to All Might. It mostly consisted of breakdowns of All Might’s battles that didn’t end after a single punch. He brought the tip of the pencil down onto the top corner of the page and wrote: believes I can be a hero. He didn’t need the reminder, but he couldn’t help but write it.

With that, he took a deep breath and flipped back to the first page of the journal. On it was a rough sketch of Izuku himself, the bold words Quirk Transfer at the top— the name his mother and he had given his Quirk so many years ago. A bullet point under the title read: user can steal Quirks. After he’d written the words steal Quirks years ago, he had slammed the book shut and refused to pick it up for three days. And, when he’d finally returned to the journal, it was only to start an analysis of The Viscosity Hero: Fuayu.

To the right of the words Quirk Transfer, in the same place he’d written on All Might’s analysis page, Izuku wrote: can be a hero’s Quirk? When he pulled his eyes away from the words, he drew another bullet under the first and wrote: needs direct skin contact from both parties? Both parties sounded far better than user and victim.

Izuku had never written a page in a hero analysis journal with so little information. And, as much as he didn’t mind keeping it that way, it wouldn’t do. Which was why he would need to collect data on it, even if only the basics. If he couldn’t do that much, what would he be able to do as a hero?

Standing up, he made his way to the door, hesitating for a second. Then he turned the handle and found his way to the living area. His mother was on the sofa, now watching the movie she tended to watch when she was stressed. She’d been watching it before he’d arrived home — which made sense, since he’d been so late — but her watching it now... He didn’t want to think about it.

Izuku turned away from the TV. Placing his hands on the top of the cushions as he stood behind the sofa, only doing so after ensuring she was aware of his presence, she paused her movie. She looked up at him with an expectant smile, but it dropped when she met his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Izuku swallowed. “I was… hoping I could train my Quirk? I think I want to, um, try for U.A. again.” His eyes never once landed on his mother’s face. “So… I was thinking I would need to know at least a little more about it.”

“Would you like to use my Quirk?” she asked, her voice soft. She always said that— never take or steal.

“Would… would that be okay?”

She smiled with her eyes closed, an action few around him ever did. In fact, the only other person who consistently turned their back on him was Bakugou, as Bakugou was ever-confident in his deduction that Izuku would never take his Quirk. Maybe that was a kindness in its own right.

“Of course.” She paused, then patted the cushion beside her. “What would you like to try?”

“Well… I’m pretty sure it requires direct skin contact, but I’m not entirely sure.”

When she held her arm up, the sleeve of her sweater pushed up to her upper arm, he laid a hand on her wrist. His skin crawled slightly at the contact. There was no feeling to indicate anything had occurred, but, as far as Izuku remembered, there hadn’t been when he’d used his Quirk twice before.

“Can you use it?”

His mother looked from him to the coaster on the table, where a glass of water rested on it. She leaned forward, took the glass off, and tried to pull the coaster to her hand. Nothing happened.

“I’ll try.”

He turned to the coffee table and, with his palm down and fingers as relaxed as they could be, he pointed his hand towards the TV remote and motioned for it to come to him. At first, it didn’t move. But he kept trying, and eventually, it started to drift into the air. When it had finally made its way to the air above his hand, he let his concentration drop. The remote fell, and he nearly dropped it when it hit his palm. He fumbled it for a second before catching it, then put it back on the table.

“Okay, so, um, now I’ll give it back. And... then I can try to see if it works when I touch your sleeve instead?”

She nodded. “Whatever you’d like. I trust you.”

Izuku looked up from where he’d been staring at his hand, then snapped them away, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Blinking them away, he nodded his head a few more times than necessary.

He put a hand down on her wrist and willed her Quirk to return to her. From there, they passed and didn’t pass Object Attraction back and forth, experimenting with what would and wouldn’t work. When Izuku had satisfied his most pressing questions, he had learned it indeed required skin contact. It also wasn’t a five-point Quirk— he needed the entirety of his palm as well as his fingertips.

His Quirk would also work if he only touched someone’s hair, he learned. It made sense, really, as skin and hair contained the person’s DNA all the same, and a person’s Quirk was coded into their DNA as a collection of genes. Therefore, it should work with mutant-type or transformation-type Quirks that altered the shape of a person’s skin.

As he returned Object Attraction for the final time, Izuku said, “I was… I was thinking I would apply to U.A. and a few other hero schools. Well, schools with both hero and general programs, since I don’t think I can take the hero course entrance exams… But I’ll apply to some schools that specialize in hero aid-related jobs too…?”

She didn’t ask him to explain. She seemed to understand why he couldn’t — or wouldn’t — take any hero entrance exam. His reasoning was simple, really: hero entrance exams required Quirks. Therefore, to compete, he would need to use his. And how could he ruin his fellow contestants’ chances of a future at U.A.?

“I know you don’t really want to be just an analyst,” his mother said, smiling, “so make sure to apply to a bunch of hero schools, okay?”

Tearing up once more, Izuku nodded.

…

Chapter Text

With each day, the date grew closer to U.A.’s entrance exam— the first of the six he would be taking. He focused solely on written exams, studying everything he knew would be on them, plus anything else he thought had even a slight chance of appearing.

But studying wouldn’t improve his Quirk, and he couldn’t train his Quirk more than he already had. However, he could train his body. He had stopped training physically a while ago, though he had never pushed himself enough to keep a noticeable change. Eventually, when he’d begun to question his top-choice high schools, his journals had replaced his workouts as his most prominent method of training. They didn’t have to be training, after all. But while analysis was useful in its own way, it was certainly not the sole skill necessary for Japan’s top hero school.

Therefore, for the ten months leading up to the exam, he ran every morning and night in the park beside his junior high school. With the Christmas money he’d saved for hero merchandise, he bought two adjustable dumbbells. With just those and a workout routine he’d created after reading far too many exercise websites, he trained as much as he could without injuring himself too harshly. In class, he sat above his chair until he trembled so violently he couldn’t hold his weight anymore. At home, he lifted weights until his arms went numb, then did some squats until he couldn’t continue.

By the time the entrance exams were upon him, his daily runs had doubled in length and nearly halved in time. His dumbbells felt oddly light even at their heaviest.

When Izuku cleared the hill on the brick path that led to U.A.’s main building, he sucked in a breath. Students his age bustled about, their appearances ranging from a boy whose head was that of a lion’s to a girl with bubblegum pink hair so long that she kept tripping over it. While they were interesting to observe from a distance, Izuku would have to get close to them. Trying to mentally prepare himself beforehand did little to alleviate the itch under his skin.

Most of the crowd was gathered around two boards, which Izuku had to assume held the room numbers for their written exams. The rest were either walking alongside him or heading into the building, though a few were talking with the others. Those who were talking wore the same gakuran. They must have decided to brave the behemoth that was the country’s top hero school together. The thought made him glance around once more, checking for his own junior high uniform. To his relief, he saw no sign of it.

As he dodged the few students who tried to brush past him, Izuku made his way over to the board on the right. There was a slightly smaller crowd around that one. His grip tightened around the straps of his backpack, which he’d brought more for show than out of necessity. While he needed a few pencils, he didn’t need anything else. Still, having the backpack gave him something to grip onto to relieve some of the tension in his muscles. It also had his X-ACTO knife tucked away at the bottom of one of its smaller pockets, ready to be used in a bathroom stall if needed.

As he approached the group, he hesitated, searching for any spot where he’d be able to see the board without getting too close to anyone. But Bakugou was nowhere in sight. Neither was anyone else with a uniform that matched Izuku’s own, and nobody there knew what his Quirk was. There was no reason to avoid them, really. Even so, when he stepped closer, he faltered and tripped over his own feet.

Just before his face connected with the ground, his body halted. Within a second, his feet were losing contact with the brick. He scrambled in an attempt to right himself, but it did little good, and he only succeeded in turning himself over more as he floated above the ground.

To his left was a girl smiling sheepishly at him. She was cute, with light brown hair that framed her round face and a pink elliptic patch on each cheek like she was permanently blushing. Each of her fingertips was colored the same pink, distinct from the color of her skin— often a sign of a five-point Quirk. A Quirk that allowed her to alter the effect of gravity on anything she touched?

“I stopped you with my Quirk,” she said, her voice naturally light. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask first, but I figured you wouldn’t mind me catching you.”

While he did appreciate the save, he wasn’t thrilled by the way she put both hands on his arm to guide him back to a standing position before releasing her Quirk. But he refrained from jerking his arm away and instead forced himself to stutter out an awkward, “Th- thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled with her eyes closed, and Izuku briefly wondered if she would do the same if she knew what his Quirk was. “This is all so nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

Izuku blinked. “It- um, yeah! It is.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help! Good luck in there,” she said, waving as she turned to head towards the board on the left.

“You too,” he called, but his voice was so soft he doubted she’d heard him. He felt somewhat guilty about that, but she’d walked away as soon as she’d finished speaking. She hadn’t been expecting a reply.

Shaking his head, he made his way over to the right board. The crowd had dispersed a little. It was enough to let Izuku see the room numbers and last names without having to bump into anyone, at least. The rooms were divided by both last name and which exam was being administered, so he’d be taking his exam in a room full of people applying for general studies, but the room next door would be full of potential hero course students. Memorizing his room number by repeating it in his head, he moved away from the crowd. Just stepping away from the gathering was a relief.

Still, that didn’t stop his heart from beating wildly as he walked through the massive front doors of the main building. Guided by a sign sitting in the middle of the walkway, he turned right. He dug his nails into his backpack straps.

The hallway was just as impressive as he’d expected it to be, big enough to warrant a dotted line in the middle like the kind one would see on a multilane street. Its left side was split by classroom doors that seemed far too tall, and the right side was a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Unfortunately, the windows couldn’t be opened. That only left the main entrance behind Izuku as an exit he was certain would work if needed.

Though the size of the classroom doors would suggest U.A. was attempting to be courteous to students with mutant-type Quirks, the doors were strangely narrow. That seemed to defeat the purpose. Not to mention they were tall enough to force Izuku to crane his head backwards to look at the little sign that the room number was displayed on. He was short for his age, yes, but even someone of All Might’s height would still have to tilt their head.

The first floor was dedicated to the first-year classrooms, judging by the bold red 1-F that was pasted on the blue sign above the door and the 1-E that was above the door at the end of the hallway. At the end of the hallway, he turned. He made sure he kept to the left side of the dotted line.

Though he could tell the hallway turned left again at the end, Izuku wouldn’t need to take another turn. Just before the turn was Class 1-A’s classroom, obvious by the blocky 1-A that was painted on the door. It was the only door to have its label painted on it. At least the school acknowledged its favoritism, Izuku supposed.

His exam room, Class 1-D, was the second door on his left, one that came after what he assumed was a janitor’s closet. The door was open, and from his angle, Izuku could see The Hunting Dog Hero: Hound Dog sitting at the desk at the front of the room. He was wearing his hero costume, complete with a muzzle that he could talk through. Though he knew he’d be too nervous to talk to Hound Dog for anything not exam-related — or even exam-related, honestly — it was still rather exciting to see a Pro Hero up close.

As he walked, he glanced up at the other classroom doors down the hallway. When he did, he managed to catch a glimpse of the girl who’d saved him walking into Class 1-A. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was one of the rooms for the written portion of the hero course’s exam.

Izuku’s eyes moved down to Class 1-B, then down to Class 1-C. Class 1-C, he remembered seeing, was another room dedicated to the hero course examinees. Strangely, the door was closed, and a crowd of around a dozen students were loitering outside, clearly waiting to be let into the room. It seemed like the wrong time for a proctor to be late.

“This is a general studies room, right?” a deep and raspy but clearly feminine voice asked. “Like, for taking the exam.”

Izuku stopped in his tracks and turned to face the girl, unsure of whether he was the one she was talking to. Piercing brown eyes that were framed by black markings (a mutant-type wolf Quirk?) stared down at him. It took him a moment to recognize her as the girl who’d been waiting with the rest of the group to get into Class 1-C, though she’d been leaning on the wall instead of talking with anyone. One blue-grey furry ear on the top of her head twitched as she waited for an answer. The fur seamlessly blended into her partially tied-back, waist-length hair, as it was the same color.

“Oh- um, yeah, it is,” he said.

“What’s the point of going to U.A. for general studies? Isn’t it a little expensive to go to the country’s best hero school just to take a general course?”

It took Izuku a moment to respond. “Well, I- um, just because U.A. is known for its hero course doesn’t mean its general course… well, all of its other courses, really, aren’t worth taking, right? I think.” Izuku threaded his fingers together. “And, for some people, they want to eventually transfer into the hero course… but they can’t because of the hero course’s practical exam. So they have to start in general studies. It’s been done a lot in the past, actually...”

“Is that what you’re trying to do?”

Izuku nodded carefully.

“What’s your Quirk?” she asked, tail flicking behind her.

Izuku forced down a wince. “It’s… noth- it’s just not a physical Quirk. Besides… keeping it a secret might help in the sports festival,” he said, his voice not at all challenging like he’d hoped it would sound. Certainly not the most believable answer, but it was believable, at least to the point where she wouldn’t be likely to try to pry an answer out of him.

She snorted. “Trying to get the drop on everyone later?”

“That, um… implies I get accepted.”

“You’re not planning to?”

“Of course!” Izuku said. “But it’s really not that simple, is it?”

“Sure it is.”

Before Izuku could stutter out an inadequate response, the appearance of someone new caught his eye. With hunched shoulders and his hands shoved inside the pockets of his all-black outfit, he was strangely familiar. Eyes narrowing, Izuku tried to recall where he’d seen the man. Why couldn’t he remember ever seeing such bloodshot, tired eyes before?

Izuku sucked in a breath— It was Eraserhead.

Was he the proctor for Class 1-C’s exam? Judging by the way he brushed past the throng of students gathered around the door, using nothing but a merciless glare to get them to part, that answer was a yes. For a second, Izuku wished he was Class 1-D’s proctor. But he took that idea back the moment it entered his brain. He doubted he’d be able to focus on his exam with his favorite hero sitting not three or four meters from him.

“Not in any hurry, is he?”

Izuku focused back on her. “At least he’s here now, right?”

She made a face. “I guess.”

Seeing an opportunity to escape, Izuku said, “Well, I... should probably, um, get going. Good luck on your exam.”

“You too.”

Izuku gave her a parting smile and spared one last glance at Eraserhead, who was now sitting down behind the desk in the front of the classroom, before hurrying to his own room.

If Eraserhead was a proctor for Class 1-C’s exam, he was obviously a teacher at U.A. The question was which course and which class he was the teacher of. Being an underground hero, Izuku wouldn’t picture him as a teacher in the hero course. But some hero course students were bound to become underground heroes, so maybe he was a one-of-a-kind hero course teacher.

Whatever the case, Izuku shouldn’t be thinking about it now. He had an exam to take, and if he failed it, he would have to kiss his dream school goodbye. He had one chance, and this was it. He could think about Eraserhead afterwards.

Walking through the door with newfound determination, Izuku looked to Hound Dog for directions. The hero asked his name, and when Izuku gave it, he directed Izuku to the seat in the back corner of the room. It was on the far side, which meant it was the farthest seat from the sole exit. Not exactly ideal. But it was in the back, at least. He could survey the entire classroom easily from there.

The clock read that they still had twenty-two minutes before the exam began, and Izuku hadn’t brought any of his study materials. He knew it would do him no good, as he could never truly concentrate when others were in the room. Unless it was his mother. So he opted to examine the classroom, taking in the large chalkboard on the opposite wall behind Hound Dog and the four columns of five seats each that everyone currently sat in. Most of his fellow students had arrived already, with only four seats still empty. He glanced at each student in the room, never looking for more than a second for fear they’d notice.

Overall, the room was rather plain. But it had an atmosphere entirely distinct from his junior high school, which was a combination of entirely refreshing and absolutely uncomforting.

When Hound Dog stood up to hand out their exams, telling them not to cheat or use a pen, Izuku pressed two fingers to his throat. His heart was beating erratically. Then the bell rang, and everyone else flipped to the first real page of the exam. Izuku belatedly followed their lead. He stared at the first question with uncomprehending eyes, even after reading it three times. Swallowing harshly, he tried again, only getting a basic idea of the question without any specifics.

Glancing at the clock to find three minutes had already gone by, Izuku gritted his teeth. Carefully, discreetly, he moved his fingernails to the skin of his wrist and dug in with all the strength he could muster. He gritted his teeth. When he eventually let go, he found each fingernail had left a dark purple crescent embedded into his skin. Turning his arm over so nobody could see it, Izuku took a deep, steadying breath. Once again, he tried to read the first question.

When his eyes landed on the particle at the end of the question, he let himself smile slightly. Not only did he understand what it was asking, the answer also came to him immediately. He was all right.

He tended not to do well on tests — considering he couldn’t completely concentrate on them — but his month-long studies had paid off. Although he ran out of time like always, leaving the last few questions as rushed guesses, he’d been able to focus enough to answer most to the best of his ability. A few he hadn’t known, but he still left the room with the feeling that he’d performed better than he had in a long while.

Hopefully that was enough.

...

Chapter Text

It took Izuku fifteen minutes to work up the courage to open U.A.’s letter.

When he did muster up enough bravery, he ripped the envelope open with shaking hands, tearing it into multiple pieces because he’d never been gifted at opening envelopes. He nearly had a heart attack when a little device fell to the floor and bounced under his chair. He inspected it with a frown until he realized just what it was: a holographic screen projector. Seemed like a waste of money, but U.A. appeared to have… questionable priorities.

He set the device on the table and turned it on. It flickered to life, and Izuku was met with All Might’s beaming face. With the same smile he always wore, he introduced himself as U.A.’s newest teacher. So the rumors had been true.

“It is good to see you again, young man,” All Might said. “Out of one hundred points, you scored an eighty-nine on the general studies written exam. Not the highest score, but certainly not the lowest!”

Izuku stared at the screen, heart fluttering before he could force himself not to hope until he’d heard the verdict.

“Due to this, you’ll be joining nineteen other students in Class 1-C. Congratulations, Young Midoriya!”

He had been accepted.

Izuku couldn’t help but cry, but he was grinning all the while. And when his mother inched the door open and eventually peeked inside, waiting to hear the news, he flashed her the brightest smile he’d given anyone in a while.

She blinked, and then her eyes softened, and just like that, they were crying together.

…

When Izuku crested the hill beyond U.A.’s entrance gate once again, he had the urge to turn right back around and never return. But this was his chance, and this was what he wanted. So he dug his fingernails into his embarrassingly sweaty palms and started walking again. Eventually, he put his left hand on his backpack strap and shoved his right in his pocket just to keep it from swinging awkwardly by his side.

After nearly tripping on the walkway again, he walked through the front doors of the building, which had been left open. Would the doors be open every morning? There was no way a single student would be able to open them. Even a crowd of students working together would most likely fail. At least, a crowd of students without any strength-enhancing Quirks.

Izuku had his schedule in his pocket in case he needed it, but he’d already memorized it in preparation, as he’d prefer not to take his eyes off of his surroundings to glance at the paper. Turning right and then left, he walked by a few students loitering in the halls. Still, there were far less than he’d expected there to be when he’d envisioned the school before walking into it a month before.

Although he’d only seen the one hallway. And he had no idea where the cafeteria was, so he hoped he’d be able to follow a crowd when the lunch bell rang. Because, sadly, he would have to eat lunch to ensure his health.

The classroom door was open, much to his relief. He really didn’t want to make a fool of himself by attempting to open it when there were other students in the hallway. If he couldn’t heave the door open, it was doubtful that his peers could either, but he still would rather not risk it.

Behind the desk in the front of the room, which was identical in layout to Class 1-D’s classroom, was Ectoplasm. He ranked number seven on the Top 10 Most Villainous-Looking Heroes List. He earned the title for the same reason the other nine did— his Quirk gave him a threatening appearance. Without any lips, his teeth were fully visible. And with the way his gums pulled from his cheeks to meet his teeth, they looked like they’d sunken into his face. That coupled with his lanky figure and stern, sharp eyes made for one of the less approachable Pro Heroes in the country.

As Izuku walked into the room, the Pro Hero greeted him by name, and Izuku stuttered out a greeting in return. Would he even be able to concentrate on the material in his classes (as much as he normally could) when a Pro was teaching them?

It seemed Izuku had frozen just beyond the doorway, because a second later someone was approaching him from behind. Hopping out of the way, Izuku apologized profusely. The boy’s hair sparkled like snow in the morning sunlight, and it was the same color, as well. Unlike Izuku, whose dark freckles ran across the bridge of his nose to the outer corners of his eyes, he had white flecks that clustered only under the inner corners. An ice- or snow-related Quirk?

Izuku moved to the back of the room, swinging around the desks so he wouldn’t be too close to anyone as he passed by. Since Ectoplasm hadn’t told him to sit anywhere specific, he assumed their seats weren’t assigned. The seats closest to the exit had already been taken. Only one remained in the last row, so Izuku hurried to claim it. It was rather far from the door, with two lines of desks on his right and one on his left when he sat down. But nobody knew what his Quirk was— at least, not yet. Hopefully not until the sports festival.

At his desk, he glanced around the room. Would any of his classmates like him? If they asked what his Quirk was — the question was nearly as common as asking for someone’s name — would he tell them or avoid the question? He tugged at his tie, which he’d haphazardly tied that morning. He couldn’t help but bounce his leg under his desk, grateful he’d been able to choose a seat in the back to keep the classmates he irritated to a minimum. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice, even if they were sitting beside him.

It wouldn’t be right of him to attempt to make friends, considering they would eventually learn what his Quirk was. He would have tricked them into liking him. That is, if he didn’t deter them with his personality alone before that.

A minute later, another student waltzed in, his hands in his pockets and his eyes drooping like he hadn’t slept properly in days. And he probably hadn’t, considering the bruises under his eyes were so prominent. (Izuku had them too, but they quite literally paled in comparison.) His purple hair seemed to defy gravity completely, sticking up at every angle in a soft wave, contrasted by a squared face. He scanned the room, stopping when his eyes hit the one seat near the side of the room. As soon as he sat down, he put his head on his desk and closed his eyes. Out of all the classmates Izuku could see, he seemed to be the least approachable.

The last three students wandered in not soon after.

“All right, now that everyone is here, I’ll introduce myself. I’m The Duplication Hero: Ectoplasm. I’ll be your homeroom teacher this year, so I hope we can get along. I won’t bore you with a speech that you don’t want to listen to. So I’ll just tell you this: today will mostly be meeting your teachers and getting accustomed to everything. But, first, we have an entrance ceremony to go to.”

Izuku’s new classmates shared a look with one another as Ectoplasm made his way to the door and waved for them to follow. As they left, Izuku hung back, knowing he couldn’t make it out of the door first and therefore settled for last. Purple Boy raised up as their classmates walked through the doorway, one eye open to watch them. Only when everyone had passed, including a reluctant Izuku, did he move towards the door.

The group followed Ectoplasm down the halls, twisting around the odd shape of the building until they were on its opposite side. A few of his classmates talked to each other as they walked. Izuku took note of every turn they made and every sign above a door that he could use as a landmarker. If he didn’t want to get lost in the future, if he didn’t want to give everyone another reason to mock him, he needed to learn where everything was and remember it by the end of the day.

Once they reached the auditorium, Izuku wanted to cower at the sheer size of the building. It was detached from the main building, complete with four exits at the back and two down beside the wooden stage. But those two were emergency exits.

His class filed into a line, and Izuku tried to fall back so that Purple Boy would have to take the spot in front of him, but he shot Izuku a glare. With that, Izuku somewhat scrambled to the next open seat in the row, unfortunately sandwiched between two classmates with only a thin armrest separating them. Izuku planted his hands in his lap with rigid arms and refused to move them.

He searched for any faces he recognized, hoping to see Nice Girl and Wolf Girl in one of two hero course homerooms. But he couldn’t spot them or Bakugou anywhere. Izuku knew for a fact that Bakugou had been offered a spot in Class 1-A. His mother had called Izuku’s to give her the good news, and Izuku’s mother had relayed it to him.

But, from the looks of it, Class 1-C was the last class to arrive. The Voice Hero: Present Mic took the stage a minute later with the announcement that everyone was there, so the hero courses weren’t coming, then. Did they have a separate orientation? Or were they skipping it because it was only useful for the other courses?

At least, at the beginning, the entrance ceremony was similar to any other school’s. It lasted about an hour, and most of that time was spent by their principal, a bipedal mouse that couldn’t be taller than Izuku’s waist. He introduced himself as Principal Nezu, then wished his audience the best of luck during the year in the most roundabout way possible.

But when he finished his final anecdote, the teachers were introduced. Not exactly common for an entrance ceremony. But each teacher was a Pro Hero, so perhaps it would feel wrong not to introduce them. With every new introduction, Izuku itched to record the differences and similarities between the Pros’ attitudes towards the press versus a group of students. But he hadn’t brought his hero analysis journal with him. (And probably never would.)

They didn’t introduce any hero course teachers, so Eraserhead either taught first-year hero course students exclusively or any class for the second- or third-years.

After Principal Nezu admitted they had no time to waste with ceremonies (but he was the one who’d taken forever to give his speech?), he released the classes two at a time. When their turn came, Izuku paid close attention to the path they took back to their classroom. Back in their homeroom, he could say with confidence that he’d be able to navigate to the auditorium on his own.

The rest of their morning classes passed more quickly than Izuku had anticipated. In every class, their teachers introduced themselves and explained what they’d be covering throughout the year.

When the bell rang to signal the start of lunch, Ectoplasm gave the class directions to the cafeteria. He suggested that they use the time to get to know one another. With his heart beating a little too quickly in his chest, Izuku followed the crowd. Would he have to find somebody to sit with, or would there be an empty table for him to sit alone? Did he want to sit alone and draw such negative attention to himself?

As tempted as he was to skip lunch entirely, he needed to eat. Depriving himself of food when he would be training after school ended wouldn’t be his smartest idea. And his mother was too observant for him to get away with making his own lunches. So, unfortunately, he had to break his habit of skipping lunch and disappearing until the bell rang.

The size of the cafeteria was nothing like he’d ever seen. It was even larger than the auditorium they’d been in earlier. From the amount of students crowding into the lunch line and around the infinite tables situated in neat rows in the middle of the massive room, Izuku suspected all the courses and years ate together at the same time. Still, he couldn’t imagine that there would be extra places to sit.

He had already lost his classmates in the crowd. (He’d been too busy attempting to avoid running into anyone in the hallways.) So he took his spot in the line without recognizing anyone beside him. He kept to himself, stepping slightly to the side so he wouldn’t be pressed against anyone.

After waiting a while — though not as long as he’d predicted — Izuku walked away with a steaming bowl of katsudon. If he was going to sit with a group of his peers at a lunch table for the first time in seven years, he figured eating his favorite food should help a little.

He searched for Nice Girl or Wolf Girl, but yet again, they were nowhere to be found. Hopefully they’d made it into the hero course and just were lost in the crowd somewhere where Izuku couldn’t see. They both seemed like they’d make great heroes one day, and they both seemed like they deserved the chance to follow that dream.

Looking for anyone else he recognized, Izuku’s eyes eventually landed on a head of hair that was hard to miss. Purple Boy was sitting surrounded by students who looked like second- or third-years, but the seat across from him was open. Briefly, Izuku considered heading somewhere else. But every table nearby had already been filled. And, the longer he stood out in the open surrounded by such a large crowd, the more his skin prickled just below the surface. So he inhaled deeply to steady himself and took a spot at the empty seat. Purple Boy looked up at the sound of Izuku’s tray hitting the table. Staring at him blankly, he seemed to silently demand that Izuku justify himself.

“I, um, I’m sorry if I’m, um, bothering you, but there weren’t any other seats, and I…” he trailed off, his voice getting softer as his sentence got longer.

“‘M not here t’make friends.”

Izuku blinked at him, stunned into silence for a moment. “Then… why are you here?”

The boy stared at him, eyes narrowed. He clearly wasn’t looking to make friends. Which might work in Izuku’s favor, actually. If they could strike up an agreement, silent or verbal, they could sit next to but largely ignore each other every day. Unless Izuku had just ruined it.

Gruffly, he said, “T’be a hero.”

Izuku’s heart skipped a beat. “Me too!”

The boy raised his head from where he’d been staring at his rice, clearly more interested in their conversation now despite his face remaining neutral. He stared at Izuku as if he were prompting him to continue, so Izuku did.

“I, uh- I actually didn’t take the hero course’s exam, since, well, I knew my Quirk… it wouldn’t work with the practical portion. Did you take the hero course exam and the general studies exam, or just the general studies?”

“Both.”

“So you didn’t score enough points? Or did you not score any?” he asked, then cringed. “I meant- I’m not... not to say you’re not strong or that your Quirk isn’t strong, because I’m sure that both are, I was just asking since you would only take both exams if you were concerned that your Quirk wouldn’t work well with the practical exam. So maybe your Quirk is physical but takes too much time to recharge? And therefore you knew you wouldn’t be able to score enough points? Or it has some sort of limit that you knew might not work at all, which would leave you with zero points.” Izuku paused, then ducked his head slightly— enough to show he was apologetic but not enough to lose sight of the boy whose name he still didn’t know. If he was lucky, his head was bowed enough to keep his faint blush hidden. “Sor… I’m sorry. For all of that.”

Purple Boy hummed in response. But Izuku could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t irritated, so he tried to brush his embarrassment away. It didn’t work much.

“Points didn’t go t’me.”

“Why not?” Izuku asked, frowning. If he’d defeated the robots that were apparently the enemies in the exam that year, what kind of Quirk could possibly keep him from being awarded the points?

“Quirk’s Brainwashing. Points went t’brainwashed kids.” He’d been eating comfortably between his clipped sentences, but he’d stopped as soon as the word brainwashing left his mouth. Before Izuku could draw a conclusion from that, Purple Boy continued with a half-smirk, half-snarl, “Villainous, right?”

That wasn’t a question that he didn’t know the answer to— no, that was a question whose answer he was waiting for Izuku to confirm. There was someone like Izuku at U.A.?

“Is that what people call your Quirk?”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to.

“How does it work?” Izuku asked. “I... if you, um, don’t mind me asking.”

Purple Boy narrowed his eyes. “Control anyone who responds t’a question o’mine. Only simple commands. Only activates when I want.”

Izuku fiddled with his chopsticks to give his hands something to do. “It… Well, it might not mean anything to you to hear me say this, but I think your Quirk is perfect for a hero.”

Though his face didn’t seem capable of intense emotion, Izuku could see Purple Boy waiting for his next words like he was expecting Izuku to be either lying or about to take them back.

Izuku continued. “You could just command villains to surrender, couldn’t you? And, sure, your Quirk has a condition that could pose some problems once villains figure out what it is, but I’m sure there are ways around it. Like, for example, what if you became an underground hero? That way, your name and Quirk would stay relatively unknown. Even if rumors spread about you, underground heroes tend to be unrecognizable. But, I guess if you try to make a name for yourself during the sports festival, people might remember what your Quirk is later down the line... But probably not, since most people don’t recognize Eraserhead, not even the police, and he went to U.A… People will forget your name, and you could disappear into the shadows, I think...”

Before Izuku could apologize again, Purple Boy asked, “Really?”

Izuku didn’t want to give too much away, to reveal that he too had a villainous Quirk— one far more villainous than Brainwashing. If Brainwashing was even villainous at all. But Purple Boy would eventually ask about his Quirk anyway. And if his peers had called his Quirk villainous, then he would understand, wouldn’t he? And, from what it sounded like, he had never been told his Quirk could be heroic before. Izuku could change that.

Izuku smiled softly. “Of course. People doubt you because of your Quirk, right?” he asked, doing his best to maintain a steady expression. Purple Boy nodded slowly. “But it’s what you do with Brainwashing that determines whether it’s villainous or not.”

Such was true for Purple Boy’s Quirk. It was deemed villainous for what its user could do with it if they so chose to— it wasn’t villainous for merely existing. When used by a hero, his Quirk would be nothing short of heroic. Sure, to incapacitate villains, he would need to temporarily take their free will. But was that not what every hero did, in one way or another?

Although, was it not somewhat cruel of Purple Boy to brainwash other examinees into scoring points for him? In the end, the points had gone to them instead, but he sure hadn’t been hoping for that. But he had just been trying to take the first step towards his dream. Who was Izuku to say what he had done was cruel? It wasn’t as if Purple Boy was the only one who would’ve tried to sabotage his competitors, and he only did so because his Quirk forced him to.

So, while Purple Boy’s Quirk seemed villainous, it could only be considered as such under certain circumstances that wouldn’t apply to him. After all, everyone had technically been sabotaging the other examinees by destroying robots that another could’ve fought. Therefore, there was a clear distinction to be made between Purple Boy and Izuku’s Quirks. Whenever Izuku used his, no matter what situation it may be, it hurt someone. That was what separated their Quirks.

Purple Boy stared at him a little while longer, then asked, “Your Quirk?”

Izuku pursed his lips together, wringing his fingers together. “It’s… it’s not much, really. It’s kind of… useless.”

“For a hero?”

Izuku wrinkled his nose, then laughed a little. “Yeah, I… that wasn’t the best answer, was it? It’d be hard to be a hero without a useful Quirk…” he trailed off. Then he took a deep breath and said, “I… I call it, um… Quirk Transfer. I- I can take the Quirk of anyone I touch and use it for myself.”

Purple Boy met his gaze when Izuku glanced up briefly to gauge his reaction. Oddly enough, there was no sign of disgust. No fear, or horror, or panic on his face. Only a partial understanding.

“‘S powerful.”

Izuku smiled down at the table, but he didn’t feel it. “It’s villainous, right?”

The boy huffed. “Y’didn’t think mine was.” He paused, frowning as he thought, and Izuku waited for him to continue. “No hero exam?”

“Well, um, I… I didn’t want to use my Quirk. If I had… Well, it wouldn’t have… been fair of me to take away the other examinees’ chances of getting in.”

Purple Boy gave him a look for that, slight irritation present in the curve of his lips. What had Izuku said? Did he think Izuku was implying his choice of brainwashing some of the other examinees wasn’t fair to them? Izuku couldn’t say it was fair, but he understood that Purple Boy didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. So he moved to tell him that, but he didn’t get the chance.

“Y’want t’be a hero?”

“Of course,” Izuku insisted, not sure as to why that was being brought into question. Had bypassing the hero exam entirely given off the impression he wasn’t dedicated enough? Shouldn’t it prove he was more dedicated, since he refused to use his villainous Quirk to harm others?

“Why?”

“Because I want to prove I’m not a villain. I want… I want to be the person people can rely on, the person they can trust to protect them, even with my Quirk. I want people to believe… that I’m good,” Izuku said.

Purple Boy just hummed one low, long tone.

Izuku leaned forward slightly. “Why do you want to be a hero?”

“Can’t help what your heart longs for.”

A soft smile broke out on Izuku’s face. “That’s a great reason.”

“Hitoshi Shinsou,” he said.

He didn’t bow his head in greeting, but Izuku didn’t mind, because it meant he didn’t have to either. Not that he expected Shinsou to hurt him— he didn’t have a direct reason to. Especially not with the audience of a crowded cafeteria.

“Izuku Midoriya.”

The bell rang not long after, and they walked back to their homeroom in a comfortable silence. Well, calling it comfortable might have been slightly generous. However, Shinsou clearly wasn’t much of a talker, so Izuku let the silence linger. They both were able to make it back to the classroom of their own volitions, with neither following the other. Much to Izuku’s relief.

It was their first class after lunch that Izuku had been looking forward to, simply because it was Quirk studies. Physical education came next. They spent the period taking physical fitness tests, from a sitting toe touch to grip strength. Izuku was happy to see that in every test, his results had gone up considerably since junior high. Well, except for the sitting toe touch. He’d need to incorporate more stretching into his daily training.

The day ended after their seventh period, and when there were five minutes left, Izuku started to pack away his notes out of habit. When he glanced toward Shinsou, he saw him doing the same. Did he too pack his belongings away early to escape the classroom before someone could catch up to him? Shinsou had experienced at least some of the same treatment as Izuku had, so what if it wasn’t simply a desire to go home quickly? But he didn’t look nervous or cautious as much as he just looked bored, so maybe not.

When everyone began to filter out of the door after Ectoplasm dismissed them, Izuku lingered in the back. Shinsou did the same, both straps of his backpack around his shoulders. Once the rest had cleared out, surprisingly enough, Shinsou waited for Izuku. He didn’t have the look in his eye that Bakugou always had when he waited for Izuku, so slowly, Izuku walked over to his side.

“Train with me. After school,” Shinsou said.

“You… you want to train with me?”

Shinsou gave him a look.

“Right. Obviously,” Izuku said. “But where? And in what? Why me? Or- no, that last one is obvious. Again. Sorry. But am I really a good choice…?”

“Park near here. Sparring.”

“Oh! That’s a pretty good idea, actually, since we’ll both run into situations where we won’t be able to use our Quirks… If we become heroes, that is, or even transfer…” Izuku blinked. “Not to say I think you won’t transfer or become a hero, of course. I just- Well, you know, it’s never guaranteed…”

“Start tomorrow.”

“Um, okay, yeah! Tomorrow. Thank you. For offering,” Izuku said, grimacing at the sound of his own words.

Luckily, Shinsou had already turned around and walked a little ways ahead. After a moment of hesitation, Izuku decided to let Shinsou walk home alone, where he couldn’t bother him with his inability to hold a conversation.

When Shinsou was far enough ahead, Izuku started home as well.

...

Chapter Text

The sports festival was rapidly approaching, and Izuku and Shinsou were preparing in the best way they knew how: by sparring.

Which was why they were headed to their favorite training site. As they turned right to walk into the hallway, Izuku glanced down the hall and waved at Uraraka — Nice Girl — when their eyes met. They had bumped into each other on the last day of their first week at U.A., as she had earned a spot in Class 1-A.

Izuku had gotten the name of Wolf Girl — Okamin Kyarano — much in the same way. Though rather than congratulating him for his acceptance like Uraraka, she just teased him for it. She had (playfully) bragged about her standing as a Class 1-B student. Izuku had dutifully listened until Bakugou had appeared down the hallway from her. After spotting him, Izuku had stuttered an excuse and darted down the hall to catch up with Shinsou, who’d gone ahead as soon as Izuku had stopped to talk.

Shinsou and Izuku had taken to sparring three times a week, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It was a schedule they’d been keeping for a month. But, at Izuku’s suggestion, they agreed to train five days a week for the two weeks before the festival, then give themselves two days off just before the day of.

It was now a week before the festival, and they found themselves training in the park closest to U.A.’s campus. The park was full every day they came, though most tended to gravitate towards the lawn that sat in the center. On the kempt grass, people sat in the spring sun with towels under them, threw frisbees or footballs over others’ heads, and played with their dogs. A wide sidewalk wrapped around the lawn, and dotted along the sidewalk were vendors who could convince nearly anyone to buy a popsicle or a taiyaki. Shinsou and Izuku had learned to give the vendors a wide berth when they headed to their spot. But, on more than one occasion, they’d gotten themselves a snack on their way home.

On the north side of the park was where they’d found their ideal spot. It was the quietest area they’d been able to find, and they’d spent an hour searching for the perfect place. It was hidden behind a cluster of towering trees that dropped pinecones on the pinestraw below. It was nothing more than a small patch of grass that clearly wasn’t cut as often as the main lawn’s, and it wasn’t long or wide enough for anyone else to make use of it.

Well, it wasn’t as small as Izuku made it out to be, but it might as well have been, since the pinecones that covered the outer rim weren’t forgiving when fallen on. Izuku had learned that the hard way. Shinsou had laughed at him, but just the next week, he’d met the same fate. Now, he made a habit of viciously kicking any pinecone he saw. Whenever Izuku saw him do it, he had to hide his smile.

As Shinsou began their second sparring match of the day with a roundhouse kick, Izuku could see his improvement. His kicks were both higher and faster. As he ducked under Izuku’s jab and countered with a punch of his own, Izuku could see the way he pulled his fist back as quickly as he’d thrown it out. It hadn’t taken him long to realize Izuku would throw him over his shoulder when he let his arm linger after a punch, but the change hadn’t come easy. He’d forgotten often. And Izuku never passed up an opportunity to try a new throw he’d learned from watching martial arts videos. Now, however, any attempt Izuku made to grab his arm ended in failure.

While Izuku had never had a problem pulling his punches back, his most glaring limitation was dodging attacks. Just as he’d expected it to be. He was surprisingly gifted at predicting Shinsou’s movements. He was able to decipher in a split second whether Shinsou would be throwing a punch, hook, uppercut, or a kick depending on the way the fight was going and the way he shifted his weight. However, despite knowing what attack was coming before it had been thrown, Izuku’s body froze when faced with a blow about to land. And, when Shinsou landed a hit, it was solid and brutal. His power was a testament of his brute strength and nearly perfect form. This habit of Izuku’s was one that had left him with too many bruises to count for far longer than it took Shinsou to learn to pull his punches back.

At first, he’d only improved his ability to counter a kick. Catching a kick came easier to him. After all, it required him to take the brunt of the attack in order to pull Shinsou’s foot out from under him. Closing in on Shinsou before he could put true power into his kick also came easy, since Izuku was still letting himself take a hit to do so.

But, over time, Izuku had started to walk home without quite as many parts of his body aching as before. He’d learned to slip just out of the way of Shinsou’s punches, letting Shinsou’s knuckles graze his cheek instead. It was the only compromise his body seemed to allow— so he worked with it, learning to move his body so slightly that he essentially stood still. Still, he occasionally took a blow full force. (When the attack seemed too familiar and his body locked up.)

Izuku pushed forwards, grabbing the back of Shinsou’s neck and driving his knee into Shinsou’s chest. It was the best place he could think of, as it would only knock the breath out of him. Against a different opponent, Izuku’s knee might drive into a nose. Without his breath, Shinsou was easy to knock over with a sweep to the back of his knees and a push to the shoulder.

Izuku stared down at Shinsou, watching him to ensure he was all right.

Shinsou groaned and sat up. “Happy now?”

Izuku replied, and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground, lying on his back. Shinsou gave him a smug grin from above, showing his perfectly straight teeth.

“That’s cheating,” Izuku said. “We agreed on not using our Quirks.”

“All’s fair.”

Izuku pouted more for show than anything else, then got to his feet by himself. Shinsou had stopped offering a hand ever since Izuku had stuttered out an, “It’s- it’s okay. You don’t ever have to,” during their first week of sparring. Clearly Izuku’s face had, unfortunately, betrayed the true reason for his words. Shinsou didn’t ask why, though. Izuku would forever be grateful for that. Instead, Shinsou had made a comment about how he didn’t like to be touched either. While it didn’t achieve its desired effect, Izuku understood his intention all the same.

“‘Nother?” Shinsou asked.

Izuku nodded, and they put some distance between each other and raised their fists to rest just beneath their chins. Shinsou made no move to resume their fight, and instead said, “Have an idea what the festival’ll be?”

“What the three events will be?” Izuku asked, just to give Shinsou an opportunity to correct him, but he didn’t take the chance. Instead, he launched himself forward and toward Izuku, pulling his right arm back slightly. He had a habit of telegraphing his first moves no matter how many times Izuku suggested he try to stop. Izuku slipped to the side and said, “Well, the third round is always a one-on-one match of some kind. Other than that, I haven’t had the chance to look at the last decade’s sports festivals yet to try to predict what the first two rounds will be. Mr. Tarumae always assigns so much homework.”

Shinsou tried a left hook, saying, “He doesn’t.”

Izuku ducked under it and landed a jab to Shinsou’s shoulder. He was breathing so heavily that it took a while to force out each sentence. Maybe Shinsou was onto something, saying only a few words at a time.

“Okay, maybe he doesn’t, but I can’t just—”

A nasty kick to the back of his knees — payback for earlier, Izuku suspected — sent him to the ground. Izuku let himself fall backwards, rolling over his shoulder and hopping back up just to meet a punch to the face. At least Shinsou had the decency to hold back enough to not clobber him like usual. Either that or he was getting weaker from exhaustion. They had been sparring for a while, and neither of them had the most impressive levels of stamina.

Izuku shook his head and snapped his eyes open. Shinsou stayed where he was, so Izuku backed up a few steps and let out a breath.

“I can’t not write everything I think of,” Izuku continued. Shinsou rolled his eyes. “Quirk studies is too interesting! How can you only write the bare minimum?”

“Y’think those villains’ll show up?”

“The ones from the USJ attack?” Izuku asked, his foot connecting with Shinsou’s sternum and sending him stumbling backwards. Again, they backed off and took a moment to catch their breaths. “I don’t think so. While it would definitely leave an impression if they could get past security, they would also have to get past security. And with the lengths U.A. has been going to to keep the campus safe enough to hold the festival this year… I really doubt they’ll try. It’s just not worth it. They attacked the hero course’s training for All Might, so I don’t think it makes sense for them to try to start a rematch when he’ll be surrounded by other Pro Heroes in the stands and patrolling the stadium.”

“They’ll be back?”

Izuku frowned and looked down at the ground, but he kept an eye on Shinsou’s grass-stained sneakers to ensure he didn’t try anything. “Probably. I think they only know where All Might is when he’s at U.A. Which is pretty concerning, because that means there’s someone with access to U.A.’s private information, or someone at U.A. is close enough to All Might to know where he is. Which could mean there’s a mole… Besides when he’s at U.A., nobody really knows where All Might will be. U.A. is probably the only place they can attack and know All Might will really be there.”

The idea wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. Especially considering what Izuku knew. He’d heard of the attack on the USJ from Uraraka, and she’d spoken of an inhuman monster with an exposed brain and multiple Quirks that the villains had brought to kill All Might. (How the monster had been created to hold multiple Quirks, Izuku wasn’t sure he wanted to know.) Apparently, the fight had dragged on for a while. The monster — the Nomu — had been an equal match to All Might’s strength. All Might had won eventually, but Izuku had a terrible feeling that the fight had lessened All Might’s three hour time limit. The monster had been captured and had been taken into custody, so it wouldn’t return. But how much damage had it done?

Izuku looked back up, tilting his head and squinting when he saw the look on Shinsou’s face. Eyes widening, Izuku strode closer to him. “Have you been asking me questions to stall for time? How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Come on, let’s take a break.”

He sat down in the grass, letting the blades stab through his PE uniform pants, and waited for Shinsou to do the same.

Shinsou huffed a laugh. “Two? Three?”

It had been during one of their previous sparring sessions when Izuku had discovered just how little sleep Shinsou got. With the ever-present dark bags under his eyes, Izuku knew he couldn’t be sleeping much. Still, after Shinsou had nearly collapsed after a particularly gruelling day of training, he admitted to having insomnia.

While Shinsou could fall asleep relatively easily, he couldn’t stay asleep. In his words, it was the result of bad genetics. He woke up just because his mind had forced him to. Sleeping pills seldom worked on him, and avoiding electronics a couple hours before bed or changing the temperature in his room never had an effect. It was an issue Shinsou had been dealing with for years, so he had shifted to copious amounts of iced coffee in the mornings. It was a rare day when Shinsou walked through Class 1-C’s door in the morning without a cup in the largest size his favorite coffee shop offered.

“You should’ve told me,” Izuku said. “Let’s call it a day and skip tomorrow, okay? One day off won’t kill us.”

Shinsou hummed. “‘M fine.”

“You’re not,” Izuku insisted.

Shinsou yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth with his hand. Dropping his chin into his palm, he stared at the ground, struggling to keep his eyes open.

They stayed in that position on the ground, and Izuku let the silence linger. A cool breeze rustled the trees around them, and it felt wonderful as it cooled his skin. It seemed to be having the same effect on Shinsou, as he looked less likely to vomit now. His chaotic locks blew in the breeze, and if his hair wasn’t already a mess, Izuku would worry it would get tangled in the wind. Izuku’s hair was always a curly mess as well— so much so that the breeze could do no more damage to it.

Another fifteen minutes passed before Shinsou got to his feet, and he turned to see if Izuku was following. It was certainly a contrast to the looks Bakugou gave him that almost beckoned him to walk into a beating willingly. Sure, the expectant look Shinsou gave him was a reminder of that. But Izuku knew Shinsou meant no harm the way Bakugou always had, so his caution stayed at a relative minimum. He had no particular reason to attack Izuku, after all. Still, Izuku hesitated before standing up to take a place by Shinsou’s side.

As they headed down the slight incline of the park, walking alongside the sidewalk but far enough away from the vendors, Izuku asked, “What will you do for the sports festival? Can you do anything? To get enough rest?”

“Pray.”

…

Chapter Text

Absentmindedly, Izuku noted that asking Recovery Girl to heal the aches that had stuck with him the day before was one of his best ideas as of late.

He’d fallen asleep in record time, strangely. The exhaustion that came with her Quirk forced him into a deep sleep that wasn’t interrupted until his alarm went off the next morning. Izuku woke up often in the night, by just about any slight noise, from his mother moving quietly to the bathroom to the hoot of an owl in the tree outside his window. Eventually, he’d turned to listening to ambient music an hour before he fell asleep. That way, he could grow used to it. Then, it could drown out the sounds that would normally startle him awake. It worked about as often as it didn’t.

But, the night before, he’d been so fatigued that he hadn’t had time to start his playlist before he was asleep. And yet he’d slept through the night. Such a feat was worth remembering. He might just have to take advantage of Recovery Girl’s Quirk more often, because it was likely the only reason he’d been able to fall asleep at all. Expecting such a stressful event the next day almost guaranteed he wouldn’t be sleeping on an average night.

Of course, the reason he’d asked for Recovery Girl’s help was because the bruises he’d accumulated over the weeks had finally become too abundant to ignore. So he and Shinsou had journeyed to the nurse’s office in hopes of not entering the sports festival on the verge of collapse. Hopefully, her Quirk had had a similar effect on Shinsou’s sleep as it had had on Izuku’s.

As he broke out into a jog and set a decent pace for himself, confident that the speed wouldn’t sap his energy, Izuku reviewed his predictions for the day in his head. Hopefully it would bring some comfort.

He had spent his evenings searching up and watching every first-year sports festival dating from the previous year’s to two decades in the past. After recording what the first two rounds were for each year, he compared them. (The third round was always a one-on-one match. From the looks of it, there was about an eighty percent chance it would be a simple Quirk-versus-Quirk fight. It wasn’t a perfect number by any means, but it would do.)

Izuku figured U.A. wouldn’t reuse events that had been seen in the past few years, so he immediately eliminated a handful of possibilities. There was always a chance they would come up with a new event, but there were only so many options with the space and equipment they had. And, judging from his notes, U.A. wasn’t averse to rehashing old ideas. Not as long as they were old enough.

However, obstacle races seemed to be U.A.’s go-to for the first round. It hadn’t been used in the past few years, either. So, if the first event could be anything, Izuku had a strong suspicion it would be an obstacle race. (It had always been done in the first round in previous years. It was best for a qualifying round, after all.)

Realistically, Izuku had nothing more than a vague idea of what the day would hold. But researching was always necessary, always calming when he was forced into a situation that he could not choose.

He increased his speed slightly, feeling the morning breeze brush his hair out of his face. It calmed his nerves just a little. His heart was beating erratically, and running accounted solely for a portion of that.

U.A.’s main building began to take shape in front of him, and after jogging through the entrance gate, he slowed to a hurried walk. He took the narrow brick path that wrapped around the left side of the building. Another left directed him towards the first of three stadiums behind the school. In front of each was a path framed by food stalls, and Izuku breathed in the distinct smell of steaming takoyaki as he watched another vendor place some skewered dango in a miniature display holder. He saw no sign of a vendor selling something that would require them to create smoke or melt sugar. Even so, he held his breath as he walked.

The stalls were bright and colorful, each one decorated by a different color scheme that clashed with the colors of the stalls beside it. People of all ages and Quirks were scattered around the walkway. Izuku walked around the stalls to avoid the worst of the crowd. Although the familiar itch to escape coursed through his veins, he couldn’t help but smile politely back at anyone who glanced his way. Wearing his PE uniform, everyone could instantly tell he was a competitor, and it showed in the way he received far more second glances than he was comfortable with.

Izuku slipped into the side entrance marked by a sandwich board with the bold words Participants Only pasted on the front. The only light in the hallway came from sunlight filtering in from both ends of the tunnel. Still, he could see well enough to find the room that had been designated for Class 1-C with a piece of printer paper taped to the door. Before walking in, he discreetly wiped his hands on the side of his pants, hoping to dry the sweat that had been building up on his palms.

Inside the room sat about a quarter of his class. Since U.A. required the general course to participate alongside the hero course, he’d soon see the rest of his classmates. Two square tables that had been pushed together took up half the room, and a couple of foldable chairs had been pushed under each side of each table. Everyone seemed to be gathered towards the back corner of the room, which suited Izuku just fine. It meant he could take the seat closest to the only door.

Shinsou was not among the students in the room. Izuku frowned.

Once settled in his chair, Izuku pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. He clicked on his photos app. The last few dozen photos had all been taken the night before, each one a picture of a different analysis page from Hero Analysis for the Future No.13. He scrolled through them slowly, reading through each one until the words made in his scratchy handwriting started to make sense.

He hadn’t had the courage to bring the physical copy with him. What if someone noticed it, asked about it, and laughed when he told them? Or what if they saw his journal and believed he was taking notes on so many different Quirks to decide which would be best to steal in the future? He would be revealing his Quirk soon, after all.

Izuku dug his fingernails into his arm under his sleeve until his nerves calmed. Staring at his phone, he narrowed his eyes to decipher a particularly messy bullet point.

Izuku had included his peers’ pages — Shinsou’s, Uraraka’s, Kyarano’s, and Todoroki’s — in the photos he’d taken. Brushing up on their Quirks couldn’t hurt. Not that he really thought he needed to, as he tended to memorize information naturally.

Most of the analysis on his classmates’ Quirks wasn’t confirmed, but he had a good idea of what they were and weren’t capable of. The analysis he had for Shinsou and Uraraka and Kyarano was based on what they’d told him about their Quirks. Todoroki’s analysis was based on what Izuku had found online. Being the son of the Number Two Hero, there were plenty of articles about him. But Izuku made sure to include much more original content, of course.

The door squeaked open, and when Izuku looked up, Shinsou met his gaze. He waltzed in with his hands in his pockets, posture as lazy as usual. The bags under his eyes seemed slightly lighter, thankfully. Izuku put his phone down on the table, turning it off and setting it face-down.

Shinsou dragged the metal chair beside Izuku out and took a seat. “See the stands?”

Izuku had specifically decided not to look at the stands, actually. He was well aware that the sight of thousands packed together to watch them would only stress him out more. “Please don’t remind me,” he groaned.

Shinsou snorted.

“First round?”

Izuku put a hand on his chin. “I really couldn’t narrow it down all that well, and this is really a complete guess, but there’s a chance it’ll be an obstacle race. U.A. seems to like using those a lot.”

Shinsou hummed.

The rest of his class wandered through the door not long after, clearly not happy with the fact that they were being forced to participate. The intercom crackled to life not seconds after the last person walked through the door. Present Mic’s voice filled the room, telling them to make their way into the stadium.

Shinsou rose up out of his seat without a word, and Izuku did the same.

Soon, they were walking into the sunlight again, the sun blazing in the sky. Its harsh light forced Izuku to close his eyes for a moment. He blinked them open to ensure he could keep an eye on his surroundings. He brought a hand up to block the sun, keeping it there as he walked with legs that felt a little weak. Was it necessary to have a live audience?

Glancing around, there were eight exits in the stadium, each leading to what looked like a dark hallway like the one they had just come from. Izuku then looked up to the stands and instantly regretted it. They were packed to the brim, nearly overflowing into the stairs that divided each section with the sheer amount of spectators who’d come to watch the first-years compete. The crowd was a roaring mass.

It made sense for the stands of the first-year stadium to be packed, of course. It was the place citizens went to catch a glimpse of new talent and new Quirks and Pro Heroes went to scout for students to offer internships to.

The thought of so many people, including Pro Heroes, watching him made Izuku shudder. As a general course student, he wasn’t allowed an internship with a Pro, but they would still be watching if he managed to make it past the first round. If he didn’t make a good impression now, they might disregard him completely in the future. If he ever transferred.

He kept pace with Shinsou, who was glaring at their soon-to-be competition ahead of them. On the stage was Midnight, in her hero costume as usual, though now she was holding a whip. Above them at the top of the stands, Present Mic was announcing the arrival of each class from a press box. Eraserhead sat beside him. Of course Eraserhead would be watching. Now, if Izuku made a fool of himself, he could never live it down. Not that he would have anyway, but still.

While Class 1-A and Class 1-B got more flattering introductions from Present Mic, the general studies classes were introduced by name only. Shinsou scowled at that, and Izuku couldn’t blame him.

At first, the animosity towards the hero courses had surprised Izuku. But they did have All Might as their teacher, and they clearly had preferential treatment over the other courses. Many despised the cancellation of U.A.’s events that were open to the public, which was a result of the USJ scare. It was to protect the students from villains, so Izuku saw no problem with it. But he also wasn’t a fan of events that included crowds of people, so he might’ve been a bit biased.

Sure, sometimes even he could find the school’s blatant favoritism irritating. But no school was perfect, and by the way Izuku came home injured solely from his training with Shinsou, it was far better than his junior high had been. Even if only because nobody knew what his Quirk was. Yet.

As they stopped at the back of the crowd, Midnight yelled over the crowd, “Silence, everyone!” She paused for a moment to let the audience quiet down. “For the student pledge, we have the student who placed first in both the hero course’s practical and written exams, Katsuki Bakugou!”

Shinsou scowled as Bakugou dragged himself up the stairs to the stage. Izuku found a place behind him, letting Shinsou’s body shield him from Bakugou’s sight. When he and Shinsou stood side-by-side, Izuku’s full height barely reached Shinsou’s chin, so he hoped that would keep him hidden.

Bakugou glared up at the stands, his hands in his pockets and his back hunched. Stepping up to the microphone and making no move to take it out of its stand, he said, “I just want to say... I’m gonna win this.”

The crowd of students erupted into complaints, their derision all directed towards Class 1-A. Bakugou moved back to the rest of his class in the crowd below the stage, and one of his classmates wasted no time in scolding him. He chopped at the air with strangely robotic motions. His fingers were squeezed together like they’d been glued.

“Without further ado,” Midnight began awkwardly, “it’s time for us to get started! The first game is what you’d call a qualifier. This is where you begin feeling the pain.” She held her whip up, pointing it in the direction of the screen that would soon display the name of the first round’s event. The options started to spin, too quickly to read what they were. Eventually, the spinning slowed and landed on Obstacle Race. “Ta-da!”

Shinsou raised his eyebrows. “Y’were right.”

Izuku grinned sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “I did a lot of research.”

Before the crowd could begin to murmur, Midnight continued, “Remember, everyone, using your Quirks is not only allowed but encouraged. You may even use them to sabotage your fellow competitors, as long as you don’t intentionally hurt them! And make sure to use them well, because only the first forty-two students to finish the race will be moving on to the second round. Good luck!”

…

Chapter Text

“Second round?”

Izuku shook his head. “That one I really couldn’t narrow down nearly as much. It could be any number of things. Maybe a game of capture-the-flag? That one they used six years ago.”

“We’ll see soon,” he said, putting an effective end to the speech Izuku had been about to give. He nodded in the direction of the entrance to the obstacle race, to which the mammoth stone doors had just begun to slide open. “‘S go.”

“Oh, um, yeah!” Izuku said, jogging to catch up. “We… We should try to get a spot up near the front. Don’t you think?” Izuku tried to suppress a frown. Getting closer to the front was the best course of action, he believed, but it also meant pushing through a mass of people. But the alternative outcome was far worse. “If the hallway behind the entrance is as narrow as it looks, it’ll almost be an obstacle in its own right. I think. The people who get stuck in the crowd will be at a disadvantage, since it’ll probably take a while to even get out of the hallway... There’s a chance someone — probably a hero course student — will try to take out the frontrunners, though. So maybe we get a spot near the front but not quite there? Maybe? What do you think?”

Shinsou nodded and headed off, so Izuku followed him as he wove his way into the crowd and forced his way as close to the front as he could. Izuku’s skin prickled all the while. They didn’t get awfully far, but it was better than taking a spot in the back.

“No hard feelings?”

“Right,” Izuku confirmed. “Good luck.”

It wouldn’t make as strong of an impression if they used each other to succeed, as that would imply they could only do well when they fought together. They needed to establish that they were worthy of the hero course on their own. Therefore, they would move separately.

“You too.”

In the mass of students, nobody was talking. Even so, just the sound of the throng shuffling their feet in anticipation made it difficult to hear the buzzer count down the seconds. But, when it struck zero, it was louder than he’d expected. Certainly loud enough to hear across the stadium. Though he was expecting a noise, he could feel himself flinch.

Everyone was off in a flash, shoving themselves into the writhing crowd in the hallway. Shinsou and Izuku were quickly pushed away from each other. Izuku kept moving forward— passing the first round was priority. And, if possible, doing so in a way that would draw some positive attention to himself. But positive attention would be difficult if he used his Quirk.

The other side of the hallway seemed so far away as Izuku struggled to avoid being trampled into the ground. Barely keeping his head above the mass, Izuku watched as Todoroki — recognizable by his half-red, half-white hair — broke away from the group and made it out to the other side. Todoroki’s right hand twitched. That was the sole warning anyone got before a wave of ice was sent barreling towards everyone behind.

The people closest to Todoroki were instantly trapped in a thick layer of ice that crawled up their legs and stopped just above their knees. As the ice travelled farther out, it lost some of its strength, coating the ground in a fine layer but not freezing anyone in place. In front of Izuku, a girl slipped on the ice and flailed for purchase. She clung to the boy next to her and pulled him down with her as she fell. Izuku nearly went with them, but he steadied himself and stepped over them as carefully as he could. Hoping they wouldn’t get hurt but unable to waste time, he kept pushing himself forwards.

Finally, he made it through, sliding a little too far and stumbling. As he caught himself, he looked ahead. He didn’t have much more ground to cover before the ice gave way to the packed dirt of the path. Right behind Izuku was Shinsou, who had brainwashed three students into carrying him. Though it seemed a little cruel to brainwash them into such a thing, he knew Shinsou was out to win, and therefore being the ones he brainwashed might actually be an advantage. Behind Shinsou was a mass of students so packed together that they could barely move at all— they had made the right call.

Forty-two students would live to see the second round. In other words, Izuku needed to hurry. Without a Quirk to aid him in any way, he was at a severe disadvantage from the very beginning. But the only Quirk he could’ve possibly taken before the festival began was his mother’s. There was a slim chance it could have been helpful, but it wasn’t enough to warrant him taking it from her.

While he could take a Quirk from one of his fellow competitors, the same reasoning he’d used to justify avoiding the hero exam could be applied. Sure, the sports festival was his best chance of making a name for himself. Of getting the hero course teachers to notice him. And sure, maybe when compared to the entrance exam, the sports festival was less important.

But there had to be plenty of competitors around him — even the hero course students — who didn’t have Quirks that would aid much in an obstacle race. And, if he used his Quirk so early on and people started talking about it — which they were sure to do with an awful Quirk like his — he would be at a disadvantage in the rounds that mattered more. After all, everyone would know to avoid him.

He would have to use his Quirk eventually, but he didn’t need it yet.

He could qualify without using his Quirk.

On solid ground now, he started to pass the people running around him. Until the ground began to tremble. Glancing up, he was met with the sight of the hulking robots the hero course often used to train the students. They were nearly as tall as the middle rows in the stands were high, creaking and groaning loud enough to leave ringing in Izuku’s ears whenever they shifted. Their faces were flat and full of red camera lenses that resembled spider eyes, glinting in the sunlight.

Everyone came to a stop a safe distance away, the crowd much thinner than it had been at the entrance gate. Todoroki kept pressing forward, throwing another wave of ice at the monsters. In an instant, they were covered in heavy chunks of glittering ice, frozen to the ground. Before they could topple over — they’d been frozen while they were moving, so they were off balance — Todoroki rushed under them. Izuku followed his lead. A few other students did as well. The robots crashed down behind them, shooting a wave of freezing air and shards of ice and metal in every direction.

Above him, Izuku saw Bakugou blast his way over the robots, ignoring them completely in favor of taking the lead. Thankfully, he ignored everyone as well. Instead, he sped after Todoroki, who was leaving a trail of ice in his wake as he propelled himself forward.

On the other side was a horde of smaller robots, numbers painted on their arms to show how many points they were worth. Leftovers from the hero course’s entrance exam, then. The one-pointers were relatively small. As one rushed at Izuku, he realized they were slow as well. It lunged for him, its bulky body barely able to get off the ground. Izuku ducked out of the way without much trouble.

Despite the heavy workload that his classes had piled on him, Izuku had stuck to a trimmed training routine. To keep up with his work, he’d had to reduce his runs. One in the morning and another at night to only one in the evening. Still, he’d built up an impressive amount of endurance since when he’d started in junior high. Now, he could feel his blood pumping, but for the amount of time he’d been exerting himself, he felt good.

On the ground were a few intact pieces of the zero-pointer’s armor. Although there was a miniscule chance they’d prove useful in the next obstacles, it wasn’t worth the risk. There was no way to carry them easily, and lugging around a piece of metal that was half as tall as he was and equally wide would slow him down. He passed the pieces by and spun out of reach of another one-pointer. It didn’t follow him, too busy reaching for another student.

Present Mic’s voice filled the stadium, describing the next obstacle. So somebody had already gotten there.

The next obstacle was a bottomless ravine only crossable by way of ropes, it seemed. So Izuku would have to do what most others would do— crawl.

Izuku skidded to a stop, eyes shooting upwards at the two-pointer turning to roll towards him. It was much taller than the one-pointer, its clawed fingers flexing as it prepared an attack. Its wheels squealed as they moved along the uneven ground. It ran over rocks and pieces of its fellow robots as it approached. As it drew closer to Izuku, a group of other students passed without gaining its attention.

It lashed out, right arm aimed at Izuku’s face. He barely had time to throw himself out of the way. He tumbled into a roll that left his side aching and probably split open his most recent cuts, but he scrambled back up and broke into a run as it swiped at his back. It just barely missed. Then it jerked into action to follow him, much faster than the one-pointer had been. Izuku dove out of the way, and as he whipped his head around to see what was coming next, he saw the robot nearly tumble.

So it was fast but unable to maintain its balance well— that was something Izuku could use.

Izuku threw himself into a sprint. He looked over his shoulder to ensure the two-pointer was following. When he deemed himself far enough away, he slowed ever so slightly, and the robot took the chance to increase its speed. Just as it was about to grab him, Izuku dove to the side, ducking into a shoulder roll that hurt much less than the one he’d attempted the first time. The robot tried to follow, but the sudden turn sent it toppling over. Dust billowed out from under its body as it slammed into the ground.

Climbing to his feet, Izuku was off again. His side ached when he inhaled, but it wasn’t enough to slow him down.

Todoroki and Bakugou had long since disappeared, and Izuku saw no sign of Shinsou or Uraraka or Kyarano.

From his perspective, Izuku seemed to be passing quite a few people, but those were only the ones whose Quirks weren’t suited for their current situation. Most of the hero course students (who he recognized from glancing over at their tables in the cafeteria) were already far ahead of him. And, considering the qualifier eliminated all but forty-two students and there were forty hero course students, Izuku probably wasn’t doing well.

The next obstacle appeared ahead, complete with pillars jutting up from the darkness that were connected with thick ropes. Logically, he knew the school must’ve found a way to cushion the fall. Still, the fact remained the same that falling from the ropes would mean instant elimination.

Ahead of him, standing at the edge, was a girl covered in support items over her PE uniform. A grappling hook shot out of a metal piece attached to her belt, and as a small crowd around her watched, her boots started to slide along the ground. Izuku hadn’t been aware that support items were allowed in certain circumstances. If he had to take a guess, he’d assume they were allowed as long as they were made by the person wearing them. Because they certainly weren’t necessary to control her Quirk. And Present Mic would’ve called her out for breaking the rules if she wasn’t following them.

She slid off the edge and into the ravine, swinging down and stretching her arms and legs out like she was on a ride at an amusement park. When she was close enough to the pillar she’d latched onto with the grappling hook, she swung her legs forwards. Just before she crashed, her boots stopped her from hitting the rock. Then, she was propelled upwards.

Todoroki and Bakugou were far in front of her, easily clearing the final stretch of the ravine by either sliding across the ropes with ice or blasting over each drop. They both set down at the end of the obstacle at the same time. As they ran, they pushed and shoved at each other to try to take the lead. Just behind them were a few members of their class.

Gritting his teeth, Izuku scanned the ravine in front of him, taking note of the fastest route he could take. With that memorized, he crouched down and grabbed the rope. He took a breath and let himself fall.

Wrapping his arms around the rope to keep himself from plummeting down, he swung underneath it. He pulled himself across, rope under his crossed calves. The rope bounced as he moved, but there wasn’t much wind to throw him off, at least. He reached the end of the first rope and turned to grab the side of the pillar. It crumbled as his fingers tightened around it. He dropped.

He caught himself with his other hand, which was now burning from the sting of the rope’s coarse fibers. Twisting around, he was able to put a hand on the flat top of the pillar and heave himself onto its solid platform. His ribs ached and his lungs burned. The damage he’d taken from hitting the ground to avoid that one-pointer was starting to take effect. Still, he ignored the pain.

Clambering to his feet, he started again. When he was halfway across, he heard Present Mic’s voice again, describing the next obstacle: a minefield. That, of course, would not be something Izuku would be particularly skilled at clearing. But it was something Bakugou could clear easily, and depending on how sensitive the mines were, Todoroki might be able to clear it with his ice under his boots.

Izuku was on the last rope now, but as he turned to look at where his other competitors were, he saw two climb over the edge from their ropes and start their run to the final obstacle. Though he couldn’t get a clear view from where he was, he knew there were plenty of contestants already at the minefield through Present Mic’s commentary. The crowd was even louder now, clearly cheering on whoever was about to take first place.

Just as Izuku was about to reach for the edge of the cliff, the rope jerked to the side. He nearly tumbled to his demise. But he held on. When he turned to look back at the cause, he saw a student on the other end of the rope. She was struggling to move, wrenching the rope side to side as she tried and failed to pull herself across. With the rope so unstable, Izuku could only grip the jagged edge of the cliff. If he tried to lift himself up as he’d been doing, the rope would pull out from under him, and he’d fall.

Present Mic’s voice boomed louder than ever before, announcing that Bakugou had taken first place and Todoroki had taken a close second.

The rope stopped jerking. With a sharp inhale, Izuku threw himself at the edge of the cliff. He gripped it with all the strength he could muster and prayed the rock under his fingers wouldn’t crumble. His shoes scraped helplessly against the side of the ravine. With a burst of strength he hoped would be enough, he pushed himself up, muscles straining against his own weight. He stopped. His arms couldn’t move him any farther.

But, before he could give in and let himself fail, he gave one last attempt and threw his leg over the side. From there, he slid his body to safety. Flipping over onto his back, he desperately sucked in air.

Third and fourth and fifth and sixth place all disappeared before he caught his breath.

Struggling to his feet, Izuku ignored the way his lungs screamed at him to stop. He started to run again, too tired to sprint but too determined to jog. Present Mic announced the competitors who took seventh and eighth and ninth place.

By the time he reached the minefield, twenty-six places had been taken.

It was nothing more than a field that was littered with ditches and mounds of dirt that the landmines had created. The most damage was contained in the middle of the field, clearly where the majority had decided to run. There were at least two dozen competitors tiptoeing around the landmines that had yet to go off or attempting to evade the mines entirely by using a path of ice Todoroki must have created earlier. Three competitors had made it to the end of the field. When they hit the safety of a path devoid of landmines, they ran leisurely with the knowledge they’d be in the second round.

Twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth place gone.

He spotted Shinsou on the other end, only meters from the final stretch. As soon as he set foot on the path to the race’s exit gate, he looked over his shoulder, eyes scanning over the field. When he met Izuku’s eyes, all he did was stare. Izuku understood. He nodded, and Shinsou accepted the answer. He turned and started back towards the exit, overtaking another competitor who had cleared the field seconds after him.

Thirtieth and thirty-first place gone.

From the looks of it, Todoroki’s ice was more trouble than it was worth. Nearly half those trying to use the narrow path were sprawled out on the ground or flailing their arms out to keep from slipping. For Todoroki to run on the ice so effortlessly, his boots had to be cleated, and Izuku’s worn red sneakers absolutely were not.

So he took off into the middle of the minefield, figuring it was a decent bet. As he leapt from mound to mound of upturned dirt, he increased his speed, chest burning. He overtook a few competitors who were taking a moment to catch their breaths. But there were still so many in front of him.

Thirty-fourth and thirty-fifth place gone.

With a burst of power, Izuku flew into a longer jump. Only when he was centimeters from touching down did he see the telltale circular patch of an untouched mine. All he could do was throw his head forwards as his foot landed, hoping the momentum of the controlled explosion would propel him forwards and not backwards.

The ground ruptured under his foot, dirt blasting in every direction, and the force sent Izuku tumbling head-first through the air.

Where he was going to land, the ground was fairly even. No landmines to hurl him in a different direction. He hit the ground on his upper back, rolling to reduce but certainly not neutralize the pain. He was glad he’d bandaged his cuts well the night before, or else the blood would be seeping through his PE uniform. The momentum was enough to pull him to his feet immediately, and he didn’t hesitate to speed up into a desperate sprint. He was halfway across now, but he hadn’t caught up.

Thirty-sixth and thirty-seventh place gone.

In his path up ahead, a lone mine sat untouched under the earth. Izuku took a deep breath before timing his jump. His heel connected with the edge of the circular mark of the mine, and the force sent him flying straight to the path beyond the minefield. Scrambling to his feet after a particularly brutal tumble, Izuku pushed his legs to carry him just a little farther.

Thirty-eighth and thirty-ninth place gone.

And fortieth place was Izuku’s, as he passed through the dark hallway and into the sunlight once more. The crowd roared as the final passing contestants came in, and when the forty-second cleared the end of the hallway, another wave of confetti (there was already plenty on the ground) rained from cannons along the bottom edge of the stands.

Would the crowd still be cheering if he had used his Quirk to win?

His body was on fire, his shoulder blade and his upper back were aching from the rolls, and his hands still burned from the memory of the ropes he’d pulled himself across with. But he was moving on to the next round, and he hadn’t had to use his Quirk, and that was what mattered. No amount of pain was going to stop him from crying with a stupid grin on his face.

Swiping at his eyes to clear away his tears, he scanned the contestants that were standing farther from the hallway. His eyes caught Shinsou’s mass of fluffy hair over the head of the girl who was covered in support items. As soon as he’d wiped away the last of his tears, he made his way over to Shinsou, waving as soon as his classmate caught sight of him. Shinsou didn’t bother waving back, but he did take a couple of steps towards Izuku to meet him in the middle.

“Cut it close.”

Izuku half-grimaced, half-grinned. “I know. But y—”

“Midoriya,” Uraraka’s voice called, waving to him as she jogged over. “You made it!”

Before he could respond, there was a firm hand on his shoulder, and Izuku jumped but didn’t instinctually wrench away from her grip, alerted by a voice behind him before he’d been touched. Immediately, the hand let go. When Izuku checked to see if anyone else had noticed, he cringed. Shinsou and Uraraka were staring at him, faces both concerned but one scarcely noticeable and the other far more obvious. Behind him, Kyarano blinked at her hand, checking her claws like she thought she’d accidentally pricked him.

“Sor- I’m sorry,” Izuku said, eyes downcast but watching the three’s hands at their sides. He resisted the urge to snake his fingers under the sleeve of his uniform and dig into the flesh on his upper arm. “It’s, um, something… I just… It’s not personal. I’m sorry.”

The following silence made Izuku squirm, but he couldn’t find the voice to fill it.

Shinsou sighed and asked the two, “Who’re you?”

Izuku shot him a grateful look, to which Shinsou kept his face blank, but Izuku knew he’d seen it. As the two introduced themselves, he let his shoulders relax partially. When they finished their explanations and Shinsou solely offered his name in return, Izuku smiled and said, “I’m glad you all made it.”

“Same,” Kyarano said. “But you might want to rank a little higher this round if you want to get noticed.”

Izuku grinned awkwardly. “I know.”

Midnight cut their conversation short, “Now, the real fun begins.” As she had the first round, she raised her whip and pointed to the screen. “Let’s see what we have in store for you next.”

On the screen, a selection of events spun and spun, giving the illusion that the event would be randomly chosen. Of course, the next event had already been determined, as they had to set up for each. But that didn’t provide any comfort. The wheel’s spin slowly died down until the board displayed the words Cavalry Battle.

Well, that was new.

…

Chapter Text

As far as Izuku knew, this was the first time U.A. had used a cavalry battle as one of its sports festival events, which meant it was either new or hadn’t been used in two decades. And he wouldn’t lie— he’d never been a fan of cavalry battles. Well, actually, he wasn’t a fan of the concept. He’d never actually participated in one. In his junior high’s sports festivals, his classmates had refused to let him anywhere near them.

Well, the only person (besides Bakugou) aware of his Quirk was happy to spar with him, and nobody else should be averse to touching him if they didn’t know what his Quirk was. But he doubted he could get away with dodging the question now.

What would he do if nobody would team up with him because of his Quirk? They couldn’t possibly disqualify him if nobody would partner with him, could they? Or maybe people would partner up with him, thinking he wouldn’t take their Quirks if they appeased him?

Biting his tongue, Izuku forced himself to focus on Midnight’s voice as she began her explanation. Each person would receive a headband with a certain number of points, starting from forty-second place with five points, forty-first place with ten points, and so on. All headbands in a team would be handed off to the rider of the group, who could wear them either around their neck or forehead. Contestants could use their Quirks to aid them, as long as they didn’t purposely harm anyone severely. At the end of the round, which would be fifteen minutes long, the four teams with the most points would move on to the final event.

As she explained the rules, Izuku tried to build a potential team in his head. He ignored the nagging thought that everyone he asked would turn him down or laugh in his face. Teams could be made of two to four members, but a team of four would be much more likely to succeed. But where would he find so many teammates?

At the end of her explanation, Midnight stopped, holding her breath to increase the buildup for whatever she was about to say. Then, she opened her mouth and revealed first place would have not two-hundred ten points but rather ten million, and Izuku’s mind stuttered to a stop.

Even with ten million points, Bakugou would have no trouble finding teammates. No, he would create a team of the classmates he deemed worthy to be his comrades, and he wouldn’t settle for running away like any other team would do. With that many points, he was guaranteed a win if he held onto them. But Bakugou was himself. He would fight to take points from the other teams, and Izuku had a feeling his team — if he found one to be a part of — would be Bakugou’s prime target. After all, Izuku had no right to stand on the same playing field as him.

If his partners didn’t run after he explained his Quirk, would they run after he explained what Bakugou would undoubtedly do? Well, if they weren’t afraid of him enough to leave, Izuku doubted Bakugou would be what made them reconsider.

Still, the only person Izuku could think of who might possibly be his partner was Shinsou, but they weren’t enough to face Bakugou. Nobody was enough to face him, really. Still, if they wanted to have a chance of survival, they would need two more partners. But Izuku was confident that Uraraka and Kyarano would partner up with their classmates.

“M’dor’ya,” Shinsou said, his voice louder than usual. He wasn’t yelling, because Shinsou never took the effort to yell, but it was close. His lips were pursed together in a tight, subtle frown. “You’re mumbling.”

Izuku swallowed harshly, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before reopening them. “I’m sorry. Just… this is a lot of pressure, huh?” he chuckled, but it wasn’t convincing, and he resisted the urge to bite into his cheek for it. “I, um… Well- who are you guys going to partner with?”

“I’m gonna go find my classmates,” Kyarano said. “I know their Quirks the best, so it’ll be easier.”

Her logic was better than what he’d been thinking, which he knew was stupid, because he’d never told her his Quirk. And she hadn’t been around him often enough to grow tired of him yet. Probably. Unless she was lying, that is, but Izuku didn’t see her as the type to lie solely to spare someone’s feelings.

“I think it’ll be best to partner with my classmates, too,” Uraraka said softly. “Sorry.”

“No- I mean, of course!” Izuku said, waving his hands in front of him. “I understand. I’d do the same.”

Both she and Kyarano left, one giving them a little wave and the other a mock salute.

“You n’ me,” Shinsou drawled.

Izuku turned to him, eyebrows furrowed, and nearly whispered, “What?” Shinsou gave him a look that told him he wouldn’t be repeating himself, as Izuku had obviously heard him. So Izuku continued, “You’d really partner with me?”

“One condition.”

“A condition? What is it?”

“Y’have t’use your Quirk.”

Izuku inhaled sharply. “Well, I- Yes, I should use it if it’s necessary, but if it’s not…”

There was no reason he needed to use his Quirk. Well, yes, there was. He knew he needed to use it, but what would everyone think of him when he did? What would his victim think, and what would his peers think, and what would the audience think? And, if he used his Quirk, that would make Bakugou hate him all that much more. Then they’d be in bigger trouble, and they wouldn’t have any chance of winning.

“Y’barely got here,” Shinsou said, glaring.

“I know. But… if I use my Quirk, everyone will…” he trailed off. “Wouldn’t it be villainous, using my Quirk to succeed when it ruins someone else’s chances of winning?”

“I’m a villain?”

“Of course not!” Izuku said. How did Shinsou draw that conclusion?

“Brainwashed people last round.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

Izuku bit into his tongue until he tasted blood, then relaxed his jaw. “Your Quirk isn’t villainous. People only think that because of what you could do with it, not what you actually do.” He bit down on the tip of his tongue again, opening the wound wider, as he let his nails dig into his palms. “But when I use mine, it always hurts people. I’ll hurt people.”

“Entrance exam,” Shinsou said. “Tried t’sabotage people. ‘S not villainous?”

“But you had to. If you wanted to succeed, you had to use your Quirk.”

“You’d be in the hero course. If you’d’ve used your Quirk.”

“But I couldn’t just take away someone’s Quirk!” Izuku said. “They wouldn’t have stood a chance in the exam without one.”

Shinsou scowled. “Y’can’t spare enemies.”

“But they wouldn’t have been my enemies,” Izuku pressed, voice cracking. “They just wanted the same thing I wanted. I’d be taking away their chances at their ideal futures. And I’d be taking a piece of who they were.”

“I take free will. Y’take a piece. Mine’s worse.”

Izuku opened his mouth to retort, but he closed it, staring down at Shinsou’s feet. When he felt tears sting at his eyes, he put his hand over his mouth to hide the way his lips wobbled.

Their Quirks were different. They both could take away a person’s will, a person’s hopes, a person’s dreams, sure. But they were different, because Shinsou’s Quirk wasn’t villainous, because Shinsou only used it because he had to succeed. Izuku’s Quirk was villainous, and he couldn’t dare to use it, because what kind of person would he be if he did? Using it would make him the monster everyone always thought he was. Using it would mean nobody would trust him and that they had every right not to.

“Our Quirks’re the same.”

“They’re not. They ca—”

“Stop bitching ‘n use it,” Shinsou barked.

Izuku snapped his mouth shut, fully confident it was his best option. If he stayed still and didn’t argue and didn’t make a sound, Shinsou would calm down.

Shinsou crouched down and inhaled and exhaled audibly. “It isn’t villainous. Y’said mine wasn’t.”

Now, if Izuku didn’t talk, he’d find himself in more trouble. “...They’re different.”

“Yours’s villainous ’n mine’s not?” Shinsou asked. Izuku said nothing. “Bullshit.”

“But I—” Izuku started.

“—can stop villains quick. ‘Fore they hurt anyone,” Shinsou finished.

“But our opponents here aren’t villains,” Izuku said, his voice still soft. It was trembling as well, ever so slightly, but he couldn’t stamp it down.

Even when Izuku focused on the ache of all the injuries he’d sustained in the first round, he couldn’t stop himself from crying. He wanted to dig his nails into his left shoulder, where he’d cut the night before at the thought of having to use his Quirk during the festival. But Shinsou would notice, so he kept his fists by his sides. He dug hard into his palms and bit the tip of his tongue. (He had to bite his tongue, because biting his cheek would be more obvious. And if Shinsou noticed the blood, accidentally biting his tongue during the first event would be believable.)

“Hero course teachers need t’see it.”

Izuku sniffled and swiped his wrist across his nose, grimacing at the wet feeling on his skin as he wiped the snot away. As he rubbed the back of his wrist on his pants, he nodded but didn’t meet Shinsou’s eyes, knowing his face must have looked pitiful.

It was true— if he didn’t use his Quirk during the second or third events, the hero course teachers wouldn’t know what it was by watching him. No, only All Might would know personally. The rest would know only by the information Ectoplasm had given them, and what if they assumed he thought himself too good to use it?

He’d already refused to use his Quirk during the first event, when he could’ve cleared easily with the right (if right was the correct word) selection. He’d almost failed because of it. If he wanted to make up for his less-than-ideal performance in the first round, he needed his Quirk in the second. Refusing to use it in the second as well could cement his fate as a permanent member of the general course.

Honestly, he should count himself lucky if they hadn’t disregarded him already. And what about All Might, up in the stands, watching Izuku do so poorly because he was refusing to use a Quirk that the Pro had said wasn’t villainous? A Quirk that he’d encouraged Izuku to use to try for the hero course?

What was he doing, convincing himself he didn’t need to use his Quirk?

Izuku glanced up to meet Shinsou’s glower and reluctantly said, “I’ll try.”

…

Chapter Text

Shinsou rose up, looking away as Izuku wiped away the last remnants of his tears.

His eyes would still be red and puffy, but Izuku couldn’t do much to fix that. From what he could see, most had already grouped into teams of four, and when he risked a glance at the timer on the screen above Midnight, it read eight and a half minutes remaining. They’d had fifteen.

Izuku started to apologize for wasting so much time, but Shinsou rolled his eyes and turned away from him as soon as the first few words had left his mouth. He started off in what Izuku assumed was a random direction. As he walked away, Izuku resisted the urge to dig his nails into his shoulder once again.

Whatever relationship he and Shinsou had had was ruined now, wasn’t it? Izuku wasn’t sure he could have called them friends, as he didn’t know what Shinsou would call them, and he refused to make the mistake of deeming someone a friend when they weren’t. Not that he believed Shinsou would treat him the same way Bakugou did. But just because he didn’t seem to mind Izuku’s Quirk didn’t mean he didn’t mind Izuku using it on him.

Gritting his teeth, Izuku dug his nails into his injured shoulder. The sting it brought was almost comforting. Wherever they stood didn’t matter at the moment— what did matter was moving onto the third round. If their team failed, neither of them would have made any impression on the hero course teachers. If he kept standing there, he would accomplish nothing but wasting more time. What he could do now was help Shinsou look for partners and attempt to create a plan that might just let them win. Because they would need partners to have any chance against Bakugou.

...And use his Quirk if it would ensure them victory.

If he didn’t use his Quirk during the second event, he’d be setting himself up for failure in the eyes of the hero course teachers whether their team passed or not. If they failed because Izuku refused to use his Quirk, he would be ruining Shinsou’s chances of making it to the next round, if not anyone else’s, too. And was that not the same as letting down victims of a villain when he refused to take that villain’s Quirk if he ever became a Pro?

He could keep a good conscience if he failed because he refused to use his Quirk, but he’d lose it the second someone else failed because of him. Either he refused to use his Quirk and aided the other teams, thereby hurting his own team, or used his Quirk and harmed the other teams to help his own. In the end, he would lose either way.

He sniffled one last time and lifted his head up to scan the field for anyone still searching for a partner. Shinsou had already disappeared behind the sea of other contestants. But Izuku knew he’d gone left, so he turned right and slipped around each group who were already planning their strategies. Just as he cleared the worst of the crowd, skin crawling, the girl who’d been covered in support items in the first round skidded to a stop in front of him. She just about launched herself in his direction. Her face stopped centimeters from his, and Izuku flinched back and nearly fell.

“Are you in the general course? Please tell me you are. I’ve been searching forever,” she whined. She didn’t acknowledge Izuku’s reaction to her approach, though he suspected it was because she hadn’t noticed.

Up close, Izuku could differentiate between each item she was wearing, though he could only guess at the applications of about half. She wore steampunk goggles pushed up to her forehead, a headpiece with tubes curled up like horns around her head, and a harness around her chest and middle that held something to her back that he couldn’t see. She was still wearing the boots she’d used during the first round. She had set down a small trunk behind her legs, which he assumed held more support items.

“I… I am,” Izuku said.

“Great,” she said, grinning from ear to ear as she brushed a pink dreadlock out of her eyes. She was nearly shouting, but that seemed to be her natural volume. “You’re trying to transfer into the hero course, right? Most general course students barely put in the effort to make it halfway through the first round.”

“I- That’s right.”

“Then team up with me! We can help each other. I want all my babies to get noticed by the support companies up there,” she said, gesturing to the sections in the stands that were full of men and women in suits. “And you want to get noticed by the hero course teachers. I assume you’ll be trying to make yourself stand out in this round.”

So he’d been right about her making the support items herself.

Izuku stopped himself before he could ask why she wouldn’t ask Bakugou to team up with her. Surely Bakugou would stand out more than Izuku. But she most likely had asked already, and Bakugou had probably declined in a more-than-impolite manner that made Izuku cringe just imagining it.

Bakugou. What could Izuku ever do against him? Support Girl might join his team, and maybe it would help against other teams, but against Bakugou? Could anyone ever help them stand against Bakugou?

“The name’s Mei Hatsume, by the way,” she continued, not at all deterred by Izuku’s lack of response. She grabbed the trunk and plopped it down in front of her, crouching down to open it. “I packed a ton of powerful babies, so I’m sure you’ll find something you like floating around my arsenal.”

“Oh- I’m Izuku Midoriya…”

She produced some sort of backpack from the trunk and shoved it into his hands. If he hadn’t been watching her, and if he hadn’t seen her stance shift before she turned to shove it toward him, he would’ve jerked away. Instead, he caught it as she let it go. Immediately, she returned to digging around in the trunk while he stared down at the compact metal box in his arms.

“Nice to meet you! Though I won’t remember your name. Now, what you need is something to watch your back while you go after other teams. Just keeping your points won’t be enough, considering you don’t really have any,” she said. There wasn’t any amusement in her voice— she was just stating a fact without a care of what the implications were. “What you’re holding right now is what I like to call the Iron Spider. It uses sensors to cover your blind spots, so you can focus on what’s in front of you while it guards your back. It’s perfect for what you’re trying to do, I’ll bet. So what’s your Quirk?”

Izuku tensed, his abused muscles protesting the action. It took him a while to work up the nerve to even open his mouth, but the fact that she still didn’t bother looking up at him even when he went silent made it easier for him to force out, “It’s… I, uh, can… take Quirks from other people.”

She turned to stare at him then, a strangely-shaped gun in her hands. Izuku glanced behind him, ready to freeze or flee. She merely stood up, and her face lit up with excitement.

“Do you know how many support items I could make for you depending on which Quirk you have? Think you could take a few permanently so my babies wouldn’t go to waste? When you become a hero student, make sure to stop by 1-H’s studio, and I’ll fix you up with something awesome!”

Izuku blinked, unable to respond.

“I can just see up to five kilometers away. Not exactly useful for this type of thing! Or really anything!” she laughed.

For a second, Izuku wondered if that was the reason she didn’t seem afraid of him. If he took her Quirk, it didn’t appear she would mind much. Still, that didn’t make sense, as even his classmates in elementary and junior high school with Quirks that weren’t particularly useful wanted him to touch them. Before Izuku could try to think up another reason, Hatsume presented him with the oddly-shaped gun she’d been holding.

“This baby is my Quad Blaster. It shoots cartridges that release capture nets. It can shoot three nets before it needs to be reloaded.” She paused, stuck her head back in her trunk, and rummaged around. “Looks like I left the extra cartridges in the studio! That’s my bad.”

Ignoring the fact that the gun’s name didn’t make much sense, Izuku said, “That… would still be a really big help, actually. And your Iron Spider.”

“Right? So let’s team up. Got any other teammates in mind?”

Izuku glanced behind him, but Shinsou was nowhere to be found. “Oh, um, I do, actually. We need to go find him. He’s in the general course too.”

“Perfect!”

As Izuku led the way in the direction he’d last seen Shinsou, he checked the clock. He beat down a rush of panic when he read only five minutes remaining. They moved through the crowd as quickly as they could. Izuku kept his head up, searching for Shinsou’s hair. When he saw it on the other side of the field, he motioned for Hatsume to follow with his head, since his arms were still full. Eventually, they moved out into a more open area, where he could see Shinsou talking to one of their classmates.

It was Korikyu, the boy with the quite literal icy appearance who Izuku had taken notice of on the first day. Though they occasionally sat at the same table during lunch — it was odd sitting next to people during lunch, but his class was still oblivious to his Quirk, so there was no glaring reason to avoid him — they knew little more than each other’s names and motivations for joining the general course. Which was why it was strange to see he’d made it to the second event. Korikyu had no intention of transferring like Shinsou or Izuku did. Though he had mentioned how much he hated how the general course received so little attention.

“Shinsou, Korikyu,” Izuku greeted, mainly to alert them of his presence.

Shinsou kept his eyes on Hatsume, who was standing at Izuku’s side. “Who’re you?”

“Mei Hatsume!” she said, shoving herself into Shinsou’s face just the same as she’d done with Izuku. He stared back at her with a frown, leaning back slightly so their noses wouldn’t touch. “And you are?”

“Shinsou.”

“She, um, wants to be on our team. She’s in the support course, so she can use all the support items she brought, and some of them seem like they’ll be a really big help. And, Korikyu, are you…?”

“Yeah, I’ll be on your team,” he said. He huffed a laugh. “A team of only non-hero course students. If we can pull this off, it’ll be a pretty big upset.”

“It’ll definitely be something to take note of,” Izuku supplied, catching Shinsou’s subtle smirk right before it disappeared. “Since we’ll have to steal other headbands to get enough points.” Izuku paused, bringing a hand to his chin. For a moment, he couldn’t start up again, but his teammates had a right to know. “Well… not, um, necessarily. There’s… Bakugou will probably try to take everyone’s points. He won’t just settle for the ten million points he has. He’ll still go on the offense, so maybe if we can just avoid him, we’ll be able to move on to the next round, because I really don’t think we’ll be able to fight him fairly, since he’s, well...”

“The guy who got first place? You know him?” Korikyu asked.

Izuku hoped the grimace he made wasn’t obvious. “Um… yeah, kind of.”

“And you think he’ll take everyone else’s points?”

“He’s… I think so. He’s not the type to go on the defensive. He has to win, and when he wins, he wants it to be by the largest margin possible. So he’ll go after everyone’s points, probably. Especially… ours.” Izuku couldn’t help but move his hand from his chin to cover his mouth and nose. “He… doesn’t like me all that much, so I’m afraid he’ll target us specifically, probably towards the end of the round when we won’t have time to steal back any points. And he’s strong, obviously. Really strong.”

“Why doesn’t he like you?”

Izuku didn’t suppose there was any use attempting to lie. As soon as Bakugou targeted him specifically, Shinsou would draw the same conclusion whether Izuku spoke up now or not. So, in the end, Izuku needed to quickly reveal his Quirk, hope Korikyu didn’t leave because of it, and hurry through their basic strategy. They needed to prepare for Bakugou.

And, at least with this, Izuku could transition into the concept of his Quirk. Though he was introducing it through the idea that somebody already hated him for it, so maybe it wasn’t as convenient as he would have liked. But it truly didn’t matter, as he would have had to say it eventually. He’d made a promise to Shinsou, and he wasn’t going to ruin his teammates’ chances of success to protect himself.

“He, um… doesn’t like my Quirk.”

“Which is?”

With his hand still covering his mouth, Izuku said, “I... can take other peoples’ Quirks.” He forced his line of sight up so he’d be able to gauge Korikyu’s reaction. Then he forced out, “And use them for myself.”

Korikyu huffed. “I can see why he wouldn’t like that,” he said, his voice abnormally calm. No panic, no fear, no backing away, no calling him a villain. No, just an elusive edge of hesitation in his words that stemmed from apprehension.

In a way, it was better than Hatsume’s reaction. While Hatsume had seemed to grow even more excitable at the mention of his Quirk, Korikyu grew hesitant. That was to be expected— it was what he should have done. It was almost better, because he was reacting in a genuine way, but he was trying to suppress his fear to avoid provoking Izuku.

And that was what everyone would do if Izuku became a hero. They would see him as a villain, and he would fight to prove that he was different, that he was good, that he could be trusted. And, one day, they might just trust him. That was all he could ask for.

“Still, is that really worth hating someone for? It’s not like you had any say in it,” Korikyu continued. Izuku frowned, confused. “You didn’t take his Quirk and never give it back, did you?”

“No! I couldn’t...”

“So he’s just an ass,” Korikyu said.

Shinsou snorted.

After shooting Shinsou and Hatsume an apologetic look, Izuku offered, “Still, if… If you don’t want to partner with me because of my Quirk, I understand.”

“M’dor’ya,” Shinsou warned.

Before Izuku could apologize, Korikyu said, “Why would I not want to partner with you for that? Your Quirk might actually come in handy. Think about it. Why not just take Bakugou’s Quirk?”

Because, if Izuku did, Bakugou might actually kill them all.

Korikyu continued, “My Quirk’s called Frost Breath. It’s pretty self explanatory; my breath is cold enough to freeze things if I want it to. It can hurt people if I breathe directly onto their skin, so it’s better if I breathe on the ground or at someone’s feet. But I can only use it about three or four times before I can’t breathe in deep enough to use it properly. But if I got tired, you could take it and we could get more shots out of it.”

“I- I mean…” Izuku trailed off. Was Korikyu just attempting to appease him? “I won’t take it if you don’t want me too.”

“I offered, didn’t I? It’s fine as long as you give it back.”

“Midoriya, is your Quirk activated by skin contact?” Hatsume interjected. He nodded to Korikyu, then to Hatsume. “Then you should be the rider. That way you’ll be able to use any of our Quirks plus anyone else who’s stupid enough to get close to you.”

Izuku glanced at the timer. Two minutes remained. If they didn’t hurry, they wouldn’t have a plan for defending themselves against Bakugou. They would lose before they ever had a chance to stand out in the crowd. Well, they would stand out, but not for the reason they wanted. They really needed to hurry.

“Shinsou, Hatsume, can you tell us what your Quirks are again? Just so everyone knows.” As soon as they’d finished explaining their Quirks, he continued, “The board says we have one hundred and five points in all… Most teams will end up with zero points by the end of the round. I think. Hopefully. But we won’t be safe unless we take some headbands from the other teams… And that assumes we keep our points…”

“Using my babies will help,” Hatsume said. She turned to Izuku. “You wear the Iron Spider. And you’ll have to hold the Quad Blaster, too, since the rest of us will have our hands full.”

Izuku nodded hesitantly, fitting the pack around his shoulders as quickly as he could and ignoring the pressure it put on the wounds on his shoulder.

“It’ll activate automatically after you press the button on the left side.”

“Korikyu should be in the front, since it’ll give him a wider range of places to use it without putting us in danger, I think. Right? And Hatsume and Shinsou, you guys could take the back, if that works? And, Hatsume, would it be better to take your boots off…? If only you have them, I don’t think we’ll be able to use them as a team… and they’re hard to walk in, right? Is that okay?”

Her shoulders dropped in visible dismay as she agreed, and she knelt down to undo the straps that connected her calves to the boots. At the same time, Shinsou and Korikyu agreed to their positions. Izuku once again checked the timer on the screen. Only a little over a minute remaining.

“We need to prepare for Bakugou,” Izuku blurted.

Izuku didn’t miss the way Shinsou’s eyes narrowed, and he knew exactly what Shinsou was thinking. It made his heartbeat stutter and speed up its rhythm, but how could he not mention Bakugou again?

So what did it matter if Shinsou suspected Bakugou’s and his relationship was less than ideal? In the end, it wouldn’t matter. Soon enough they’d know for certain. They would figure out that Bakugou had hurt him, that Izuku couldn’t defend himself, that he was weak, that he had every right to leave covered in scars because he couldn’t even convince himself to use his Quirk to help his allies. Because he’d needed Shinsou, who was most likely only on his team because he was too lazy to find someone else, to convince him to aid his own teammates.

But there was no stopping Bakugou, because he did whatever he wished when he wished, and he was right to do so because it was Izuku he was attacking. Would Izuku never be a hero, because he couldn’t even come up with a strategy to protect his teammates from certain failure, because he couldn’t think of anything but Bakugou’s Quirk on his skin? Because he knew Bakugou would come for them, and all he could do was think about his flesh melting instead of what was important? They were going to lose, and it would be his fault, because he was the one Bakugou was after, because he couldn’t think of a strategy in time, because he couldn’t—

“What about the other teams?” Korikyu asked.

Izuku’s eyes flicked over to the sound of Korikyu’s voice, smooth and soft like fresh snow rather than frost. He ran a hand through his hair and dug his nails into his scalp for a split second. What was he doing, wasting precious time?

“Well, Bakugou… I know he’ll come after us,” Izuku said. “But I bet at least a few teams will go after Bakugou’s ten million, especially if they’re in Class 1-B and haven’t yet seen him in action... The one advantage we might have is that none of us are hero course students— nobody will expect us to put up much of a fight, so we won’t be seen as a threat that needs to be taken out. But that’s also a disadvantage…

“If we’re not seen as a threat, there will probably be a few teams who come after us to take our few points before disregarding us entirely… We could try to take advantage of that and let our points be taken early on, and then we wouldn’t be targeted, and then we could take back enough to move on when time is about to run out, but that’s awfully risky.” He glanced at the clock, heart stumbling. “There’s nothing we can do to stop Bakugou from targeting us. When he comes, I think the only thi—”

The buzzer rang, booming across the stadium and echoing off its walls, and Midnight raised her whip and yelled, “Everyone, come get your headbands and get into position! The cavalry battle will begin in thirty seconds!”

They were going to lose. And it would be Izuku’s fault.

...

Chapter Text

Their team scrambled into formation, and when Izuku was balanced, supported by his teammates’ hands, he let his fingers slip underneath his right sleeve. He forced his nails down into his skin as far as they could go without drawing blood, pretending he was rubbing some soreness out of his shoulder. The pain distracted him from the itch under the skin of his feet. They were only touching his feet to hold him up, and his socks kept their skin from making direct contact. Even so, the discomfort didn’t fade with something as unreasonable as logic.

If he had spent his time searching for a teammate rather than attempting to convince himself Shinsou was in the wrong, he might’ve been able to come up with a plan. Instead, he’d wasted their time. Now, he’d have to think of a plan during the event. But there was a slim chance he’d be able to relay any information to his teammates without distracting them from the other opponents they would have to face.

And Izuku was the rider. He would be the one responsible for keeping an eye out for threats and potential targets. He could juggle it, he knew, but he couldn’t jeopardize their team’s need for points by muddling it with a plan to defend against Bakugou when he wasn’t a current threat. If Izuku’s position called for him to give instructions, he would have to do so. But they would have to be based on whatever threat was imminent.

Izuku released the tension in his hand after one last burst that sent another bolt of pain through his shoulder. He brought his hand down to hit the button on the side of the Iron Spider, feeling it click under his fingertip. Then, he set his arms out in a more balanced position.

“We just have to fight and take a bunch of headbands, right? With my babies, we can win easily,” Hatsume crowed. “So let’s just fight!”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Korikyu said.

Shinsou nodded.

Did they truly believe that was all they needed to do? Their tones made him think they did.

The buzzer went off, loud enough to make Izuku’s eardrums ring. Every team seemed to jump into action simultaneously.

It was Bakugou and Todoroki’s teams who moved faster than the rest. Though they had started on opposite ends of the stadium, they were already at each other’s throats— quite literally, as every rider’s headbands were carefully tied around their necks. Ice and fire collided in a blast of blinding light, the blazes on Bakugou’s palms reflecting on Todoroki’s thorns of ice.

Izuku’s best bet would be to use his Quirk on Bakugou. As awful as that idea was. Bakugou wouldn’t keep his distance— he would assume Izuku wouldn’t use his Quirk on him. That Izuku wouldn’t have the courage to.

Scanning the electronic board above the press box that now displayed the teams, Izuku counted eleven in all. But before he could double-check, he felt his teammates tense under his feet.

One team had branched away from the group they’d been near at the start of the round, now barreling towards Izuku’s team. Izuku didn’t recognize anyone on their four-person team, but he took note of their distinctive features. The rider had silver hair and an almost feathery crown surrounding his eyes, which could either be an eye mask or his eyelashes. His Quirk wasn’t obvious from his appearance, unfortunately. From his position, Izuku could see the left horse but not the right. The left’s most distinguishing feature was his headband, as his hair and eyes were dark grey with no sign of a mutant-type Quirk. Izuku couldn’t take any guess at what his Quirk could be.

However, Izuku could assume the front horse had a Quirk that warranted him a spot in the front. His tousled hair was the color of sand, and he had an impressive set of exposed teeth similar to Ectoplasm but not quite as disconcerting. Though his teeth were what would catch someone’s attention, Izuku doubted it was related to his Quirk. It was more likely a feature he’d received from one of his parents. It didn’t make sense for him to be up front if his Quirk was merely increased jaw strength or something similar. Close-range Quirks weren’t particularly useful in a cavalry battle when one was a horse.

“Korikyu!” Izuku shouted, hoping his voice would carry over the roar of Quirks clashing, contestants yelling, and the audience cheering.

Korikyu pulled his head back as he inhaled, then let his breath go in the direction of the front horse’s feet. His team had just enough time to slow down, but not nearly enough time to dodge. Korikyu’s icy breath curled around the front horse’s feet and formed little crystals around his shoes that left him stuck to the ground. But, as he started to struggle, Izuku felt Shinsou and Hatsume falter. Beneath his teammates’ feet, the packed dirt was melting into mud. It pulled their legs into the ground.

The ground had started to shift just beyond the front horse’s toes— the Quirk was Teeth Boy’s. Could he solely turn the ground into a quicksand-like substance, or was his Quirk more general than that? In the bare field, Izuku doubted the specifics mattered.

“I can’t get out!” Korikyu shouted, Shinsou grunting his agreement. “My ice won’t hold him for much longer!”

Before Izuku could reply, he felt the Iron Spider whir to life. It snapped open instantly. Four metal spider-legs all extended in the same direction. Izuku nearly fell forwards, instinctively flinching away from the sudden noise and movement. Luckily, his team remained unaffected by his misstep, considering they were still stuck. Still, he’d prefer not to make that mistake again. As long as he expected the reaction, he wouldn’t flinch, so he vowed to keep the Iron Spider in the back of his mind.

The spider-legs blocked an attack from a girl whose Quirk Izuku couldn’t decipher from where he was. All he could see was a flesh-colored cord shooting in his direction and the Iron Spider knocking them out of the air. When the cord retreated, the spider-legs folded back into the backpack. The pack’s opening snapped shut.

“The hell’s your Quirk?” Shinsou called out to the front horse, who’d gotten one foot free from Korikyu’s ice.

The boy snorted. “Wouldn’t you like t—”

“Stop using your Quirk. Stay still.”

The boy’s eyes glazed over and his face went slack. Soon enough, the ground slowly morphed back into what it was before. As his team stumbled when the dirt shifted, the Iron Spider’s legs creaked and shot out again. It knocked away another attack from the cords, which both ended in a silver point that resembled a headphone jack. They twisted and tried for another angle, and Izuku ducked down and raised his arms to guard his neck. The Iron Spider lashed out, forcing both to retreat.

The headphone jacks belonged to a girl with straight purple hair much darker than Shinsou’s, and upon closer inspection, Izuku saw that the jacks were attached to her earlobes. Above her was a floating headband, so Izuku could assume their rider had an invisibility Quirk. Their team was circling around Izuku’s, slowly getting closer as they moved.

“Want t’know what I did?” Shinsou asked, smirking at the grey-haired rider in front of them. He was staring at the front horse, whose eyes were still glazed over. The others, from their positions, couldn’t seem to shake Shinsou’s Brainwashing off of him.

The rider opened his mouth, only to shut it when the back horse in the headband hissed, “Don’t respond! I think that’s how his Quirk works.”

Shinsou huffed.

“There’s another team to our left headed for us,” Izuku said, glancing from them to the rest of his surroundings.

Bakugou and Todoroki were still locked in battle, but another team had joined the fray. Even so, the scoreboard still showed Bakugou’s team with the ten million. After checking the timer, Izuku scanned his surroundings again— if they were going to get points before Bakugou attacked them, now was their chance. Because Bakugou would come for them, and he’d make it personal. He’d be the one taking the headbands, obviously. Izuku would have to take his Quirk while simultaneously defending against that. When Bakugou reached for his throat, he’d have to use one hand to take his Quirk and use the other to swat his hand away. Without an explosion, it shouldn’t be as difficult.

Izuku continued, “But it looks like they’re the only ones. I think we should retreat, but maybe meet that team? The girl with the purple hair has a pretty useful long-range Quirk, which isn’t ideal, but they’re not going to leave us alone. Do you guys think we should try for their points?”

“Sounds good to me!” Hatsume said.

Shinsou nodded.

Entirely free from the mud, his team followed his suggestion. Together, they sped away. As they did, the back horse of the other team finally shook the front horse’s shoulder forcefully enough. Blearily, he blinked Shinsou’s brainwashing away. Still, he was too disoriented to move immediately, and when his team did start to move, it was only to run into a net from the Quad Blaster. The team struggled to pull it away, clawing fruitlessly without any Quirk that would help untangle them.

The invisible person’s team was much closer now, and the Iron Spider lashed out again and again to block the purple-haired girl’s Quirk. She was the front horse, with one back horse that had worryingly large lips and another with a rocklike head. Neither had a discernible Quirk. Izuku raised both hands to guard his temples, figuring he didn’t need to keep the Quad Blaster pointed at them— a net wouldn’t do much against the headphone jacks. In fact, he bent his knees and offered the Quad Blaster to Hatsume, explaining that it would be better for him to have both hands free. She took it, holding it by the grip with two fingers while keeping the rest on Korikyu’s shoulder.

Headphone Jack Girl could make it past the Iron Spider’s defense, but if Izuku kept his arms by his face to cut down on time needed to move, he should be able to keep her from taking the headbands around his neck. Still, they would need to move much closer if they wanted to use Shinsou’s Brainwashing on the rider. That would be putting their points at more risk, though. Maybe Izuku could grab the two headphone jacks and keep her from attacking again. Then, they could move closer and Shinsou could Brainwash the rider.

“Can we keep this amount of distance between our teams? From this far, I think I can deal with her Quirk,” Izuku said.

Their team came to a rather abrupt stop before backing away, and Izuku put a hand on Korikyu’s shoulder to steady himself once again, apologizing all the while. Invisible Person’s team stopped as well, and Izuku tilted his head at them, squinting to make up for the fact he couldn’t put a hand on his chin.

“I think the purple-haired girl’s Quirk is the only useful Quirk they have,” Izuku said. Headphone Jack Girl’s Quirk came rushing towards them again, but the Iron Spider knocked them away. Izuku kept his eyes trained on their opponent’s moves, his hands up by his head. “If the back riders had useful long-range Quirks, they’d be using them, I think. And if they have close-range Quirks, they’d be trying to close the distance. The purple-haired girl’s Quirk wouldn’t exactly be weak in close-range battles, after all, right?”

“So what does that mean?” Korikyu asked.

“It means we should move forward!” Hatsume chimed in. “Trust my baby. It’ll keep us safe from that girl’s Quirk.”

From a shorter distance, Izuku didn’t trust his reflexes nearly as much, but the Iron Spider hadn’t failed him yet. Though, just like him, the spider-legs would have less time to react from a closer range. Still, Izuku let out a shaky breath and said, “Right!”

They began to close the distance between them. Unsurprisingly, the other team attempted to retreat. As they pursued Invisible Person’s team, Izuku checked the timer. Eleven and a half minutes remaining.

Behind them, Bakugou and Todoroki were still fighting, though the team Izuku had seen before had disappeared, most likely trying for an easier team. Izuku had a suspicion that, even when distracted by Todoroki’s team, Bakugou had managed to drive off any other competition. After ensuring there weren’t any other teams following them, Izuku turned back to the task at hand.

They were closer now, and the Iron Spider’s legs were scrambling to keep up with Headphone Jack Girl’s quicker attacks. She attacked from every angle. She moved both headphone jacks separately in opposite directions, then pressed them together only to split when the Iron Spider lashed in one direction. When they’d gotten close enough for Korikyu to aim another icy breath at Headphone Jack Girl’s feet, she made it through the Iron Spider’s defenses. Izuku swiped his hand out just in time to catch one of her headphone jacks. He kept the firmest grip he could muster around it, pulling it away from the headbands around his neck. Keeping the muscles in his arm pulled taught as she tried every method to struggle out of his grip, Izuku readied himself for the other headphone jack.

It shot towards him in an arc over his head, but when two mechanical spider-legs intercepted her, she pulled it back. Now, she turned her attention to the ice that kept her glued to the ground, but Izuku’s team had already closed the gap between them.

“Mind handing those over?” Shinsou asked.

“You really think we’d do that?” Headphone Jack Girl asked.

“Yeah, there’s no way!” a higher-pitched voice — Invisible Girl’s voice — said.

“Don’t move,” Shinsou said, eyes on Headphone Jack Girl, whose eyes dulled from black to light grey. Shinsou flicked his eyes over to Invisible Girl’s general direction and continued, “Take off all your headbands. Toss them t’me.”

Though Shinsou had told her to toss them to him, Izuku would be the one to catch the headbands— Shinsou didn’t have free hands to catch anything.

There was no visible reaction from Invisible Girl at first, of course. But then the four headbands around her neck unravelled as the velcro that connected both ends broke apart. In their position, the back horses couldn’t reach them even if they snaked their arms out from under the rider, so the headbands went sailing over to Shinsou without resistance. Izuku had to lean forward more than he would have liked to catch them. Just as the headbands were nearing Izuku’s hands, he dropped the headphone jack. Now, even if the impact of hitting the ground dispelled Shinsou’s Brainwashing, Headphone Jack Girl wouldn’t have time to use her Quirk to snatch the headbands back.

He snagged the headbands around his fingers and fastened them around his neck as quickly as he could, pressing each headband’s pieces of velcro together. Just as he’d done with his own team’s headbands, Izuku flipped over the new four so that the sides facing outwards were blank.

And then they were off again, circling around the middle of the stadium where the other teams were battling.

Up on the scoreboard, their team had moved from eighth place — a few teams had lost their headbands, moving up the ranks of teams that had done nothing but keep their original points — to fifth place. Izuku had expected the jump despite not knowing the name of the rider (and therefore not knowing how many points that team had had from the scoreboard). Still, seeing their team’s rank slide up on the screen was almost proof that they had a chance. Especially while Bakugou and Todoroki’s teams were still caught up fighting each other.

But they wouldn’t be fighting for much longer. When the time came, Bakugou would be too focused on Izuku to respond to anything Shinsou said. And he couldn’t assume Korikyu’s Quirk would work either. The front rider of Bakugou’s team might be there because he could withstand Bakugou’s explosions— his classmates had to know he would use his Quirk despite them being so close. Even if the front rider couldn’t, that wouldn’t stop Bakugou. He’d do his best to avoid seriously injuring the rider, but he’d still use his Quirk. His explosions would instantly melt any frost Korikyu could produce.

“Y’could’ve taken her Quirk,” Shinsou called up to Izuku.

Izuku tensed. “I- I… didn’t even think to. I’m sorry.”

But… Bakugou might respond to Izuku. Shinsou would be far more forgiving than Bakugou if Izuku took his Quirk instead. Izuku could brainwash Bakugou and ask him to toss over the ten million headband, then the rest. The ten million first for both the sake of time and to ensure Izuku didn’t drop it when attempting to catch many others.

“Luckily, we didn’t really need it,” Korikyu said. “But maybe don’t forget next time.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t,” Izuku said, his voice resolute. With that, he wiped his palm across the side of his shirt and took the Quad Blaster back from Hatsume, hoping the gun wouldn’t slip from his (now less) sweaty hand. He glanced at the timer once more. “We have about seven minutes left, and we still don’t have enough points to get us into the next round. But we’re not that far behind the fourth place team, so any team with some headbands we find will probably have enough points to put us over the edge…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shinsou said. He gestured with his head to their left. Sure enough, another team was rushing towards them.

They sidestepped as the opposing team dashed past, though Izuku almost lost his balance in the process, as he didn’t dare pull his hands away from his face to right himself. One of the back horses was Kyarano, who was grinning, fangs showing.

The back horse across from Kyarano had skin as black as Eraserhead’s hero costume, with shaggy grey hair that contrasted sharply against it. Their front horse’s appearance was much more plain than the rest on his team, with no visible feature of his Quirk and inexpressive black eyes.

Kyarano’s team changed course and charged at them again. When they were close enough, Izuku aimed the Quad Blaster and fired. They nearly tripped over themselves in a rush to stop, but the net covered them all the same, draping over the rider’s head and hanging down to the knees of the horses. The rider pushed at the ropes uselessly. Even when Kyarano let go of the front horse’s shoulder to help, the net never moved. That is, until the front horse took a deep breath and exhaled, his breath solidifying in midair and pushing against the net. At first, it resisted, but the bubble the front horse had created kept expanding. Eventually, the net curled around the bubble over the team’s heads. With a shove from the rider, the bubble and net drifted away.

Still, Korikyu wasted no time in exhaling his own Quirk-powered breath onto the front horse’s feet. Rather than coating the horse’s shoes, it left a frosty sheen on the ground below them. Nevertheless, it accomplished practically the same goal, as the front horse was trapped all the same unless he wanted to risk slipping. It wouldn’t hold them long, but it was enough to keep them away for a few seconds.

“Mind handing those over?” Shinsou asked.

The rider snorted, laughed, and said, “That’s a little overconfident, don’t you think?”

Kyarano huffed. “You’re one to talk, Monoma.”

At the same time, the rider’s — Monoma’s — eyes paled, and he slowly pulled the headbands away from his neck at Shinsou’s command. As he did, Izuku chanced a look at the scoreboard and timer. Monoma’s team was in seventh place. Five minutes remaining. When Izuku turned back, the headbands were already in the air. But they didn’t make it to his fingers. Instead, they were intercepted by the front horse’s Quirk, hitting a wall of solid air and falling onto a second platform he’d created just after the first.

Just as the other team started to move, Izuku lowered his arm and pulled the Quad Blaster’s trigger, shooting out another net that again covered the rider and head of the front horse. Next, unfortunately, came the moment of truth. With Shinsou’s and Korikyu’s words echoing through his mind, Izuku said, “Korikyu, I’m going to take your Quirk!” As he nodded, Izuku leaned down, put a hand on his head, and forced his Quirk to activate. “Get me right under the headbands!”

Inhaling deeply as he raised up, Izuku aimed his breath at the air that was keeping the headbands suspended. A layer of frost covered it and spread until the air itself was ice. Freezing it into a brittle sheet that shattered, Izuku reached up and jabbed the Quad Blaster through it. The headbands fell into his left hand, and Izuku apologized to Hatsume as he dropped the now useless gun to the ground. He fastened the headbands around his neck.

Before the front horse could make another air bubble, Korikyu directed the team away. They started off again, heading away from the other teams in the area. They moved to the outer edge of the field, stopping when they reached a portion of the field that was free from any other team. With their backs meters from the line that determined what was in and out of bounds, they could focus on what was in front of them or to their sides.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said, reaching down again to return Korikyu’s Quirk.

“I said it was fine,” Korikyu said.

Izuku forced down another apology for irritating him, knowing it would merely exacerbate the issue. But he still couldn’t quite grasp why Korikyu was irritated. Was it not better for Izuku to make his remorse obvious, even if Korikyu had given him permission to use his Quirk on him? Was it not better than taking his Quirk without asking? After all, when was using his Quirk ever something that could be done without an apology to dispel at least some idea of evil intentions?

Shaking his head, Izuku checked the scoreboard and relayed to his team, “Three and a half minutes left. We’re in fourth place now.”

Bakugou had finally bested Todoroki’s team, who now sat in one of the last places with zero points. Todoroki’s team had moved closer to Izuku’s team, where they were now battling Teeth Boy’s team, who must’ve earned some points back after losing them to Izuku’s team. Just before Izuku turned his head, he heard someone on Todoroki’s team shout, “1.3 million volts!” A boy with electric blond hair shot out a wave of electricity while the others disappeared under what Izuku assumed was an insulation sheet. Could one of their teammates create objects? The wave hit the other team and shocked them to a standstill, and the boy smirked as his team charged forward.

Bakugou’s team, on the other hand, was on the same side of the field he’d always been on, much closer to Izuku’s team than before.

“So we just need to defend until time runs out,” Korikyu said.

Slightly to their left and a quarter of the way across the field, Bakugou leapt off the supporting hands of his team’s horses and into the air. He propelled himself with his explosions to a four-person team that Izuku didn’t recognize. He landed on the front horse’s shoulders, swatted away the rider’s hands with a smoking palm, grabbed the two headbands around the girl’s neck, and blasted himself backwards.

One of the horses on his team pointed his elbow at Bakugou’s back. He shot out a piece of tape from the part of his forearm just above the elbow and pulled Bakugou back to safety.

Izuku could assume that was what Bakugou would do to them. So it would be even more personal than he’d originally expected. Well, his plan should still work. Nothing had really changed.

As Bakugou added another two headbands to the already impressive pile around his neck, he flicked his gaze sideways and met Izuku’s eyes. With their eyes connected, he raised a hand, let an explosion burst to life on his palm, and bared his teeth in a smile.

“Bakugou’s coming,” Izuku said shakily, then cursed himself for how pathetic he sounded.

“Not just him,” Shinsou said.

To their left was a boy with six arms connected with fleshy webbing and a blue mask covering the bottom half of his face. His arms were positioned behind him to cover his back, where at least one other person had to be hiding. He picked up his speed, sprinting towards them at an incredible pace. In a flash, something pink shot out from the opening between his arms, and Izuku barely had time to flinch before the Iron Spider’s spider-legs darted out to meet it. They knocked it to the side, where it hesitated a second before it disappeared back into the darkness between Webbed Arm Boy’s arms.

When it reappeared, the Iron Spider met it above Izuku’s head, where it wrapped around one of its spider-legs. It was a tongue, coated in a thin but shiny layer of saliva that dripped onto the metal of the Iron Spider. So the person — or one of them — under Webbed Arm Boy’s arms had a Quirk that made their tongue long. Most likely an animal-related Quirk. A chameleon or frog?

The tongue pulled at the spider-leg it had wrapped around. Izuku nearly toppled forwards as the pack jerked upwards. If it kept pulling, Izuku would fall, and his team certainly wouldn’t have time to fix their formation with Bakugou’s team already closing in on them. So Izuku shrugged the pack off, letting the tongue pull it over his head and toss it aside. It hit the ground with a crunch, and Izuku grimaced and apologized at the sound of Hatsume’s pained cry.

“We should move,” Izuku said, eyes flicking between Webbed Arm Boy and Bakugou.

“Can’t. Foot’s stuck,” Shinsou said.

From his angle, Izuku couldn’t see what had trapped Shinsou’s foot, so he tried to locate the source of whatever it was. Bakugou’s team was still too far to have been responsible. The only other team targeting them was Webbed Arm Boy’s, so there must be another person under his arms who had done it.

When Webbed Arm Boy was close enough to touch Korikyu or Hatsume in a few more long strides, Korikyu let out another icy breath, this one seemingly more powerful than his last. At the same time, Shinsou shouted at Webbed Arm Boy. He didn’t respond. Instead, he switched directions to circle around Izuku’s team’s front, dodging Korikyu’s attack entirely.

As he turned, he dropped his right arm. The same tongue shot out before Izuku could see who’d been revealed. It wrapped around his arm and jerked it back, and when Izuku was forced to put his other hand out to keep himself from falling, he heard the velcro of the headbands around his neck tear. Before he could grab the headbands back, the tongue had curled around them and had pulled them back to the safety of Webbed Arm Boy’s back.

Tongue Person hadn’t taken all of his headbands, but she had taken enough. On the scoreboard, Izuku’s team dropped from fourth to fifth, and as Webbed Army Boy escaped, Present Mic announced that they had two minutes remaining.

Bakugou’s team was close now. And, as Izuku forced his fingernails into the soft flesh of his palms, Bakugou launched himself into the air. Izuku’s arms froze out in front of him, nowhere near his neck where they could protect the headbands they still had left. If he tried to defend himself, Bakugou wouldn’t be happy. He did nothing but watch as Bakugou landed on Korikyu’s shoulders and grabbed the headbands around his neck. Though Bakugou couldn’t use his Quirk to purposely harm him as per the rules of the game, Izuku waited for his flesh to melt. It came in a burst on his collarbone, where Bakugou planted a burning hand to help push him backwards.

Again, one of the back horses pulled Bakugou back to his team. The three horses caught him and repositioned him to stand on their hands. When Bakugou regained his balance, he let out a sharp laugh and shouted, “Did you really think I’d let you cheat your way into the next round, Deku? You shouldn’t have even made it this far!”

Izuku bit the inside of his cheek until he could feel blood on his tongue. He’d come up with a plan, and for what?

Korikyu tried to breathe out another icy breath at the front horse’s feet. This breath was weak, however, and it dissipated into the air before it ever reached the red-haired boy. From the press box above, Present Mic announced only one minute remained.

“How ‘bout giving those back?” Shinsou called out to Bakugou.

Bakugou didn’t even spare Shinsou a glance. Instead, he watched the scoreboard with a grin. On the screen, Izuku’s team had dropped from fifth to seventh— the first in a list of teams with zero points.

It couldn’t end like this. Not when their victory had been so close. Certainly not when Shinsou hadn’t gotten the chance to make a name for himself yet, and not when Korikyu hadn’t been able to prove that general course students could stand up to hero course students, and not when Hatsume hadn’t been able to show off all of her inventions.

All three of them deserved to move on to the next round, and if Izuku could be the one to give that to them, he would. And he could. He’d face Bakugou’s wrath later, but that would be all right.

“Everyone, get close to them!” Izuku shouted, and his team hesitated for half a second before they were charging at Bakugou’s team. Without any warning, which he certainly felt sorry about, Izuku twisted around and slapped Shinsou across the face. Raising up to meet Bakugou’s stare, he said in a trembling shout, “Bakugou, you’re going to lose!”

“What did you jus—”

“Throw the ten million point headband to me,” Izuku said.

Bakugou followed his instructions with sluggish movements. His teammates shouted at him, but the headband sailed through the air all the same. Izuku caught it in both hands, clinging to the thin fabric with all the strength he had left in him. With shaking hands, he wrapped the band around the back of his neck and pressed the velcro strips together.

And then the buzzer sounded across the stadium. And Present Mic announced the end of the round. And Izuku stared up at the press box with disbelieving eyes. That is, until Hatsume let out a cheer and let go of Izuku’s foot. He plummeted gracelessly to the ground.

“And there we have it, folks! What an upset!” Present Mic cheered, and Izuku heard Eraserhead groan into his microphone beside him. “Just barely managing to make up for the points they lost, team Midoriya takes first place! In second place is Team Bakugou, in third is Team Todoroki, and in fourth is Team Monoma. Congrats, listeners!”

Unfortunately, Izuku hadn’t had time to call for Bakugou to throw the rest of their headbands. But this would do.

Izuku immediately turned to Shinsou. “I’m so sorry for taking your Quirk! And for slapping you,” he hurried. “But he didn’t respond to you, and I knew he wasn’t going to, but I knew he’d respond if I said something, and I couldn’t reach your arm… We didn’t have much time left, but I didn’t even ask first…” he trailed off, his voice getting quieter until he was muttering under his breath with a frown that would leave his eyebrows hurting if he kept it up.

“‘S fine. Did hurt, though.”

Izuku cringed, stuttering out another apology.

“Kidding. Barely felt it.”

He gave Shinsou a skeptical look for his horrible joke, but eventually, he dropped it. After warning him, Izuku transferred Shinsou’s Quirk back to him.

“I really wasn’t expecting us to win, but now I’m pleasantly surprised. Good job, Midoriya,” Korikyu said.

“What the hell was that, Deku?” Bakugou snarled.

When Izuku turned slowly around to face him, he stormed up to Izuku with his teeth bared. His palms were smoking, and Izuku instinctively stiffened. When his mind snapped into action, he didn’t change his position. He stayed where he was, tilting his head back when Bakugou grabbed his shirt collar, fully aware that letting his fear show would aid him.

(Most of the time, the best escape was to accept whatever burns Bakugou decided he deserved that day. Still an escape, though, because it would always be worse if Izuku tried something that Bakugou didn’t like. And Bakugou didn’t like much.

But, occasionally, Bakugou would go too far, leaving too many new scars at once. In those cases, it was better to tell him to stop— a stuttered out warning that he wouldn’t be able to move the next day was enough to get Bakugou to back away. After all, he would prefer Izuku’s mother be left in the dark.)

So he stayed frozen as smoke filled his nostrils and his mind supplied him with the stench of burning flesh despite Bakugou having not yet used his Quirk on him.

Bakugou’s voice was somehow even harsher when he asked, “What did you do to me?”

If Izuku didn’t respond, Bakugou would grow angrier, so Izuku forced out, “I- well, um… It was Shinsou’s… No- I…”

“Don’t fucking play with me. What did you do?”

“Borrowed my Quirk,” Shinsou answered, voice cold and sharp.

“And that is?”

“Not your business,” Shinsou said. His hair blocked the sun and cast a shadow over his eyes that made the bruises under them even more prominent.

Bakugou barked a laugh and leaned in closer, though he had to tilt his head up slightly to keep meeting Shinsou’s eyes. “I think it is my business, since Deku used it on me.”

Shinsou raised an eyebrow. “Too bad.”

Shinsou could only challenge Bakugou because he didn’t understand. But if he wasn’t careful, he would understand, and it would be because he was trying to defend someone who’d nearly cost him his future for his own selfish reasons. Why was he even defending Izuku after all he had done? Izuku wanted to take a step in their direction, to stop Shinsou from incurring Bakugou’s wrath, because Shinsou was about to walk away with the same kind of burns that were forever stamped onto Izuku’s skin. So Izuku urged his body to move, using every ounce of strength he had left, to put himself between them. He would much rather take one more burn than let Bakugou put a first on Shinsou’s skin.

“You want to fight?”

“Y’want t’be disqualified?”

Bakugou scoffed, glancing up at Present Mic and Eraserhead in the press box. “Try not to lose before I can kill you myself.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shot another glare at Izuku before stomping back to his teammates.

Shinsou watched him go and muttered, “Asshole.”

Izuku dropped to his knees, oblivious to the pain, and rested a hand on his collarbone. His shirt was burned, the edges of the hole that Bakugou had created gnarled and paper-thin between his fingertips. The hole was small, luckily. But he could feel how twisted and waxy his skin was behind the tear. It was a first-degree burn, though, he could tell— it didn’t hurt as much as usual. Still, as long as a teacher didn’t notice, nobody could send Izuku to Recovery Girl’s office, where she’d likely ask him to take his shirt off.

“All right?” Shinsou asked. He had crouched down, balancing on his toes and resting his arms on his knees. “‘Useless’?”

Izuku laughed humorlessly, covering his face with his hands but spreading his fingers to keep from blocking his vision. “It’s… his nickname for me.”

Shinsou stayed silent for a while, clearly waiting for Izuku to explain further, but Izuku didn’t budge. So he sighed and said, “Y’need t’see Recovery Girl.”

Izuku shook his head furiously. This time, Recovery Girl wouldn’t merely take his word for being bruised all over as she’d done the day before. No, she’d ask to see his chest, where the other dozen or two burn scars laid, where the cuts on his shoulders were laid next to his newest burn. “I’m all right. It barely hurts. Besides, if I go see her now, I won’t have any energy for the third round.” Shinsou stared at him until he squirmed, but still Izuku refused to give in. He couldn’t give in— not for this. So, instead, Izuku distracted him with, “Did I- Are we… okay?”

“What?”

“I… could’ve taken her Quirk. The purple-haired girl. And… before that.”

“So?” Shinsou asked. “Won ‘cause of your Quirk.”

“Are you… sure that’s enough?”

Shinsou rubbed the back of his neck. “I won’t push you. Don’t know your past.”

Subtly, Izuku rubbed one of the older burn scars along his hip, the one that tingled the most. All of his scars were tingling, burning as if softly mimicking the pain they had caused him when Bakugou had created them. But that one was the worst. It was the largest one he had, the only one shaped like a handprint. It was only a second-degree — he didn’t have any third-degrees, thankfully — but it was the most gruesome. He couldn’t remember when or where he had gotten it, or what he had done to deserve it. But he remembered the smell of his flesh burning.

“I… thank you.”

“I’ll listen,” Shinsou said. “If y’tell me.”

Izuku did nothing but shake his head, and Shinsou took that as his answer.

…

Chapter Text

The first match would start soon, and it was just Izuku’s luck that he was one of the two contestants in it.

As much as Izuku would love to share his analysis of The Rabbit Hero: Miruko’s fighting style until his throat was sore from talking too much, Shinsou was more of a ‘I-need-silence-to-focus’ kind of guy, so he kept quiet. Instead, Izuku bounced his leg. He made sure it was far enough under the table to be out of sight— he didn’t want to bother anyone with it. Briefly, he wished he’d brought his latest hero analysis journal, but he knew better.

Across from him, Shinsou leaned back in his chair with his feet resting on the table. He was scrolling through something on his phone, not once glancing up. Izuku was rather grateful for that, considering he was positive he looked awful. They were the only two in the room, as everyone else in their class had already moved up to the stands to wait for the first match to begin.

(Hatsume had also gone up to the stands after collecting a crumpled Iron Spider and mostly intact Quad Blaster. After apologizing profusely, Izuku had asked her why she gave the Quad Blaster its name, hoping it would cheer her up to talk about her invention. It did. The gun’s name paid homage to the four tries it had taken her to perfect its design, in which the first three times the gun had exploded every time it fired out a cartridge.)

Why Shinsou was sitting with him, Izuku wasn’t sure. He had a suspicion that Shinsou was there to comfort him by simply being present, but, since Izuku couldn’t do much of anything with him around, it wasn’t much of a consolation. There wasn’t another reason he could come up with, considering he knew Shinsou wanted to watch the other competitors fight.

Izuku folded his arms on the table and sank his head down to rest on top of them, his leg still bouncing.

He wouldn’t need to fight Bakugou unless he won the first two matches. But if he won the first two matches, he would have to fight Bakugou.

Of course, he could always forfeit and give his position to a member of the team that ranked fifth in the second event. That would be the equivalent of admitting he was unworthy of transferring, though. After all, if he gave up now, they’d assume one of two things. Either he thought he’d already proven himself enough and considered himself above continuing, or he was cowering in fear of battling the hero course students who could one day become his classmates. Even if he faked a sudden illness, who would believe him? Not to mention going to Recovery Girl could result in her asking to examine him for external injuries from the previous events. But it wasn’t certain, at least.

Though, if he did fight Bakugou, he’d leave with at least a few new burns. And then Recovery Girl would see all the others that preceded them. And then she would see the cuts on his shoulders, and she’d see that some of them were fresh. And then she would know, and then his mother would know, and then everyone would know, and they couldn’t know.

If he threw one of his first two matches, Bakugou would see right through his act no matter how well Izuku performed, and Izuku would have to face the consequences. While he might be able to slip away without visiting Recovery Girl, that didn’t change the fact that Bakugou would leave another fair share of burn scars in his wake. Izuku had hoped he would never have to endure them again.

He’d finally, finally, been freed from junior high. U.A. was supposed to be different. It was supposed to be the place where nobody knew his Quirk, the place where Bakugou wasn’t a constant threat sitting a few seats in front of him. At least, not for a while. Had he asked for too much?

“‘M going,” Shinsou said suddenly, kicking his feet off of the table and standing up. He pushed his chair back under the table before walking towards the door. He stopped between the corner of the table and the doorway. “Borrow my Quirk?”

Borrow. It was a word that Izuku hadn’t heard used before to describe his Quirk, and he knew Shinsou had chosen it on purpose. From that alone, Izuku let himself smile just a little. Still, that couldn’t stop his face from dropping again. If he took Shinsou’s Quirk, a win against Shiozaki or Todoroki or Sero could be so much easier. That was exactly what he’d prefer to avoid.

“I, um- No, it’s okay. If I want to… take Shiozaki’s Quirk, I shouldn’t take yours too. I’ve never tried taking two Quirks at the same time, so I don’t know if I’d even be able to,” Izuku said. The lie left an acidic taste in his mouth, but it couldn’t be helped. Besides, it was a truth. Just not the truth he was using to justify this particular course of action.

Shinsou nodded, then pulled the door open. “Good luck.”

Izuku gave him a strained smile.

The door swung shut as Shinsou left. Though Izuku certainly appreciated Shinsou attempting to comfort him, with him gone, Izuku didn’t have to maintain (or try to maintain) his composure. So, standing up with enough force to knock his chair backwards with the backs of his knees, he started to pace circles around the waiting room, mumbling to himself all the while.

Of course, there was always a chance that he would lose one of the first two matches while still truly attempting to win. Especially with Todoroki, considering he was easily one of the strongest students in the first-year hero course. Honestly, Todoroki could beat him without taking a step. As long as Izuku never got a chance to use his Quirk. Sero could too. With his tape, he could swing Izuku out of bounds before Izuku could get close enough to touch him. Because, if he entered that arena, he’d need to use his Quirk— there was no point in participating in the third event if he wasn’t going to use it.

But the only option that was guaranteed to not result in Recovery Girl’s discovery of his scars and wouldn’t leave his skin burned was forfeiting before the third event even began. He would feign an illness— he could force his fingers down his throat to make himself vomit to cement the truth of it. With that, there was a chance they’d believe him. Maybe his performance in the second event would be enough for the hero course teachers. All he had to do was tell her, insist that he was nothing more than bruised otherwise, and escape her office right after. She wouldn’t need to know.

Bakugou would know it was an act. But if it would keep his scars hidden, Izuku would have to take the chance. Besides, no matter if he stayed in Recovery Girl’s office or if he was sent home, Bakugou wouldn’t be able to attack him. Not for a little while.

With that decided, Izuku moved to the door. His hand shook as he reached for the handle. But, before he could grip it, the door handle turned. Izuku leapt back, leaning to the side to look around the door, and he was met with All Might’s hulking figure hunching over to squeeze through the doorway. When he made it through, he stood up. His head centimeters from hitting the ceiling, the Pro Hero planted his hands on his hips.

Was All Might there to ask him why he hadn’t taken the hero course entrance exam? It was a little late to be asking, but maybe this was the first time he could talk to Izuku alone without drawing unwanted attention. Maybe he’d been looking for a chance to do so since the school year began.

“It’s good to see you, Young Midoriya,” he said. “I’m glad to see you’re doing so well. Your performance in the last event is causing quite a stir in the stands.”

“It… it is?” Izuku asked.

Depending on what he meant, that could either mean the audience was impressed or horrified, and Izuku was inclined to believe the latter. Still, All Might sounded enthusiastic. Therefore the latter logically couldn’t be correct, right?

All Might laughed his signature boisterous laugh. “Of course. My fellow teachers have been talking about you as well. All good things, I assure you.”

“What about Shinsou? Have… they been talking about him?”

“Shinsou…” he muttered, clearly trying to put a face to the name. “Ah, do you mean your purple-haired classmate? I do remember Ectoplasm mentioning two students who wanted to transfer, though I’ll admit I was more concerned for you. I was quite shocked to discover you hadn’t taken the hero course’s entrance exam.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said, pursing his lips. “I just… I couldn’t take the exam if it meant taking other examinees’ Quirks. I couldn’t ruin their dreams like that.”

All Might hummed. “I see. That is understandable, my boy. I cannot blame you for that decision.” That sounded truthful.

“S- so… are they talking about Shinsou? Does he have a chance?”

“Oh, yes, they are also talking about Shinsou. Don’t you worry. If you both have strong performances in this event, I assure you that your hard work will be rewarded.”

So they hadn’t made enough of an impression yet.

His performance so far wouldn’t be enough, then. Or maybe it would, as long as Izuku faked an illness well enough to convince the teachers that he couldn’t have continued. They’d be forced to extrapolate the data they currently had. If they had been hopeful of his future performance, maybe they’d give Izuku another chance. Or maybe they wouldn’t, because he hadn’t done enough. Because they’d realize he’d been lying about being ill, and he’d be forever stuck in the general course.

“Based on the previous event, I expect a great performance out of you in this one,” All Might encouraged. He patted Izuku on the shoulder, and Izuku stiffened and accepted the touch. “Well, I just wanted to inform you of your current position and wish you luck, my boy. Now, I must return to the stands to watch your performance!”

He opened the door, slipped out, and let the door shut behind him with a click.

How could Izuku forfeit after hearing that? Here he was, about to disappoint again by lying and escaping because he was afraid. What Pro Hero faked an illness to flee from a fight they would rather not participate in?

The hero course teachers were waiting to make a call. If Izuku wanted that call to be in his favor, he knew what was necessary. So, when Present Mic’s voice boomed throughout the stadium and drifted into the waiting room, and the clock struck one, Izuku opened the door with unwilling fingers.

All he could do was pray that one of his opponents was stronger than him.

...

Chapter Text

Izuku wrung his hands as he walked, scanning his surroundings before glancing towards the part of the arena visible through the end of the tunnel-like hallway.

From what he could see, they’d created an impressive stage for the matches to take place on. He guessed Cementoss was the one responsible for constructing it on such short notice. It was little more than a tiered slab of concrete sitting on the packed dirt of the stadium’s floor, with stairs climbing up the shorter sides. The stage itself sat nearly even in height with the bottom row of the stands. It was positioned in the middle of the stadium, leaving plenty of space between it and the spectators.

On each corner of the stage was a raised stone bowl with flames licking at the edges and up into the air. The fire wasn’t exactly the most comforting decoration, but the bowls were far enough away to avoid looking at. They were far out of bounds, so Izuku shouldn’t have to smell the smoke, either.

As Izuku walked out of the dark and into the sunlight once again, the crowd’s cheering grew louder. Hopefully it wasn’t for him. Soon enough, they’d learn just what his Quirk was. There would no longer be any confusion, after all. As much as he prayed they’d look past it, he knew they wouldn’t. The best he could hope for was their assumption that, as a student who’d been admitted into the most reputable hero school in the country, he had no intention of harming anyone.

Up above, on the stadium screen, was a picture of him that had been taken the day before. He looked like an idiot, to put it lightly. If he was sitting beside Shinsou, his classmate would certainly be laughing at the sight. On the other side of the stage was Shiozaki, who didn’t look nearly as nervous as Izuku knew he himself looked.

Present Mic announced their arrivals, his voice seemingly loud enough to burst the eardrums of the poor spectators sitting close to the press box.

Izuku forced himself to position his feet in a standard fighting stance as he waited for Present Mic to start the match. Though he was tempted to press two fingers to his throat to check his pulse, he knew what he would feel. His legs felt close to giving out, and his burn scars still prickled along his skin.

On the other side of the stage, five or six meters away, Shiozaki was eyeing him. Her vine-like hair floated around and above her head, each one covered in thorns. They twisted and curved lazily through the air in Izuku’s direction as she waited, her hands clasped together in front of her chest as if she were praying.

Izuku’s best bet was to win the match— he needed to win to avoid disappointing All Might or the hero course teachers. Then, he could find a way to convincingly lose the next match. Of course, that assumed he could win this match at all, but he had a shot.

His best bet would be to catch her vines. If he could pull that off, he should have no trouble taking her Quirk, unless he couldn’t take it from her vine-hair. (But it was unlikely that her hair, even as a vine, did not contain any of her DNA. If it didn’t, he’d probably lose embarrassingly quickly, but maybe that was for the best. If his Quirk didn’t work, their matchup wouldn’t be in his favor, so at least the hero course teachers would have to acknowledge that.)

There was a small chance she knew his Quirk from one of her classmates. But the only person to know exactly what had happened was Bakugou, and he would never admit defeat in such a way. To maintain his pride, he wouldn’t admit to just how he’d been bested. His teammates hadn’t been caught up between Bakugou and Shinsou— they were probably under the impression that Izuku had Brainwashing. And that was assuming they would tell Shiozaki.

If Izuku spoke, he could test the theory. One of Bakugou’s teammates might have been observant enough to notice Izuku’s “Brainwashing” only took effect after Bakugou responded to him. If they had informed Shiozaki, then she would refuse to respond.

“Let’s, um, make this a good match, okay?” Izuku called out, hating how strained it sounded. Talking was so unnecessarily difficult sometimes.

Shiozaki narrowed her eyes at him and said nothing, pursing her lips. So Bakugou’s teammates had told her, though they were under the wrong impression. Izuku almost wished their deduction was correct.

“Let the first match begin!”

A writhing swarm of vines filled Izuku’s vision.

It was a correct prediction that allowed him to narrowly escape. He dove to the side into a roll and hopped up, whirling around to catch sight of the vines before they followed him. When they did, he was prepared. Just barely. He threw his arms up in front of him. The vines wrapped around his forearms, thorns poking into his skin but not breaking it. That is, until they jerked forward. Izuku stumbled with them. Blood trickled from the wounds, but they were little more than scratches.

The vines pulled once more, then pushed back. Clearly, she was trying to pin his arms to his sides to make it easier for her to slide him out of bounds. Struggling against the vines’ impressive strength, he pushed each arm against her and towards his other arm. When he was centimeters away, a final burst of strength closed the distance. He planted the palm of his hand on the bundle of vines wrapped around his other arm.

He activated his Quirk with his jaw clenched tight. The vines cutting off his circulation disappeared, unwinding and retracting back to Shiozaki’s head. They shrank as they were reeled in. By the time they had hit her scalp, her vines had transformed into dark green hair that fell in waves down to her waist. She stared at a lock of hair in her hand. Then shot her horrified gaze towards Izuku, who had to stop himself from bowing his head in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

On his own head, his messy curls had shifted into short vines. It took him a few seconds of anxious attempts to grow out to a length where he could examine them. They were darker in color than Shiozaki’s vines had been, these a mossy green that matched the nearly black portions of his half-green, half-black hair, only green when sunlight hit it directly. The thorns that dotted them were sparse, far less common than Shiozaki’s had been. Strange, how they differed.

Her face had shifted from horror, to confusion, then back to horror as she realized her means of defense had been stolen.

Apologizing again, Izuku lengthened a few vines from both sides of his head. He urged them to move, attempting to wind them in patterns. The control he had over them was nowhere near what he had over his limbs— if he used them, there was a chance he’d seriously injure Shiozaki. How could he use his Quirk with that risk? Even if the hero course teachers would prefer him to use his Quirk to its best abilities, Izuku couldn’t do it. Hopefully they’d recognize why that was.

Well, that was all right. Long-range Quirk users tended to have a much more difficult time fighting an opponent in close quarters, where Izuku would hopefully have an advantage. It was unlikely she had much knowledge of close-combat. If she had any knowledge at all. As a first-year hero student so early into the school year, she was most likely just learning how to use her Quirk properly in battle. If she knew anything about sparring or grappling, it wouldn’t be from U.A.

Izuku knew plenty, however. He hoped his (hopefully admirable for a general course student) grasp of how to fight Quirkless would impress the hero course teachers.

He broke out into a run towards Shiozaki. The few thorns on the short vines near his face pricked his forehead.

When he reached her, she was the first to attack, throwing a wild punch that grazed his cheek. Izuku pushed forward, forcing her back. Refusing to step back himself, he kept driving ahead, leading her to the white line that he only needed to make her cross to win. As they moved, Shiozaki mostly dodged. Occasionally, she threw a counterattack that Izuku blocked. He had been right. It was obvious that she had no practical training with close-range fighting techniques.

Shiozaki glanced behind her, finally realizing just what Izuku was attempting to do. She took to the offense. The line wasn’t much farther behind her, however, and her attacks were nowhere near the barrages that Shinsou was capable of. Her blows, even when she snuck one through Izuku’s guard, had no power behind them. She didn’t pull them back quickly either. Izuku occasionally took the opportunity to counterattack, though he didn’t put much strength behind them. But he did ensure his form was still as perfect as he could make it.

She threw a punch that was more of a haymaker. Izuku grabbed it like he had so many times before, back when Shinsou still struggled with the same issue. With one hand wrapped around her wrist and another around her upper arm, Izuku ducked under her arm and drove his shoulder into her armpit. Turning, he tossed her over his shoulder, careful to hold her properly to lighten her fall. Her foot hit the line. With that, Izuku let her go and backed away.

He couldn’t say the match had been impressive in any way, but it would have to do. Because Izuku couldn’t win the next match. Besides, if the online posts Izuku had been reading the day before could be trusted, Todoroki was expected to be the winner of the festival. He should be able to win against Sero with ease. And it was only natural for an inexperienced general course student to lose against the Number Two Hero’s prodigy of a son.

“Shiozaki has gone out of bounds! Midoriya wins!” Midnight shouted.

The crowd erupted into cheers, and Izuku stared up at the stands with a frown. They couldn’t possibly be cheering for him after he’d left no room for doubt about what his Quirk was, so what were they cheering for? That it was over? That he would leave?

Turning back to Shiozaki, who hadn’t yet gotten up, he wrestled with himself over whether to offer his hand to her. It was the naturally polite action to take, yes. But he also had just taken her Quirk. She might not want to touch him. In the end, he offered it, figuring she could refuse it if she wanted to. She took it with a small but grateful smile, which he found rather odd.

“I’m really sorry for taking your Quirk. I can give it back! Right now. I just have to…” he trailed off, offering his hand to her, palm facing down. She gave him a confused glance, but held out her arm. He transferred it back, saying, “I- I’m sorry about that. Again.”

“It’s all right,” she said. Then, oddly enough, she bowed despite knowing what his Quirk was, despite him using it on her just minutes before. “I thank you for a fair match.”

“Oh- um, yeah, of course.”

She nodded to him, then turned around and headed back down the stairs she had come from. After glancing at her one last time, Izuku moved to walk down the other set of stairs. Mostly because he didn’t want to face the awkward silence of them walking down the same flight. So he took the long way around to Class 1-C’s section in the stands, stalling for time. Because he would have to face his classmates. What would they think of him now?

Eventually, Izuku stepped into their section. Shinsou had chosen to sit in the front row, and therefore the farthest row from the sole exit. At least he’d chosen to sit apart from the rest of their class. The rest of the class was bunched together behind them, with one empty row in between, and in a perfect position to attack Izuku before he could react. His classmates now knew what his Quirk was, so the motive was there.

But, actually, who besides Bakugou would go near him now that they knew?

That thought raised the question of what his classmates would think of him in the future. Would they create a repeat of junior high? Where he would sit down at a desk with a red spider lily resting on the surface, where he would skip lunch to avoid conflict, where he would plan how best to react to ensure he left in the least amount of pain? No, Izuku couldn’t think about that now. Not with so many people nearby, and not without the comfort of his own room, and maybe not without his trusted X-ACTO knife.

For a moment, Izuku hesitated. Would Shinsou take offense if he chose to sit with an empty seat between them? After some thought, Izuku made the call to sit with an empty chair separating himself from Shinsou, but he sat on the side’s edge.

“Liked your picture.”

“I was nervous,” Izuku defended.

Shinsou snorted. “Y’didn’t need luck.”

Izuku smiled at that, but he could feel how unnatural it was. “I… guess so.”

…

Chapter Text

As Todoroki and Sero climbed the stairs to the stage, Izuku checked his pulse absentmindedly, glancing behind him and to the side occasionally to ensure nobody in their section had moved.

From so far away, it was impossible to hear anything the competitors said. Izuku couldn’t read their lips on the screen, as it hadn’t yet changed to the video feed of the cameras aimed at the stage. At least the screen was on the other side of the stadium, leaving a perfect view for the sections of the stands devoted to U.A.’s students. It was a small detail, but Izuku assumed it had been done deliberately.

Todoroki stood motionlessly after he reached the top of the stairs and stepped over the white line that signalled what was out of bounds. Across from him, Sero was stretching his arms, mouth moving. It didn’t seem like he was talking to Todoroki. Izuku presumed he was muttering under his breath about Present Mic calling him plain in his introduction. The commentary was a bit insensitive.

Present Mic started the match.

Sero lifted his elbows and shot out two strips of tape that wrapped around Todoroki’s stomach. He cut one of the strips and swung Todoroki to the side. Just before Todoroki could slide across the line, however, he threw out a wall of ice that he slammed into. Without flinching, he swept his arm through the air. The action launched a line of ice that grew larger with each second. By the time it reached Sero, it had covered his body below the neck in ice.

But it kept going. The ice shot up past the stage entirely, sweeping over the bowls of fire and snuffing them out instantly. It spiralled towards the stands, angled up just enough to avoid impaling any spectators. In an instant, it had passed the rim of the stadium. It didn’t stop until the ice had formed into massive spikes that jutted out over the top of the roofline.

Covering nearly half of the stadium, it was just the kind of power that nobody would expect Izuku to overcome. It was perfect.

“Excited?”

Izuku looked over at Shinsou. “What?”

“Looked happy t’see that.”

His cheeks heating, Izuku said, “No- I- I don’t…”

Shinsou turned back to face the stage below, where Todoroki was melting the ice away from Sero’s torso. It was the first time Todoroki had used his left side, from what Izuku had seen. As soon as Sero stumbled out of the ice, Todoroki stopped, then walked across the stage and down the stairs without a word.

“Why d’y’want t’fight him?”

“I don’t,” Izuku insisted. “I just… His Quirk. It’s amazing.”

Shinsou hummed skeptically.

Down below, Todoroki took his last step down the stairs. He passed his father without sparing him a glance. Endeavor’s eyes stayed on his back for a while, and when he finally turned away to start climbing the stairs, the Number Two Hero’s flames grew brighter and larger. Was it Endeavor’s overall unpleasant personality, or was it something more that had caused such a strained relationship? Hopefully not the latter.

It took fifteen minutes for Endeavor to melt the glacier without putting the audience in danger. (Although most of the crowd on that side had dispersed as soon as Present Mic announced they’d be taking a quick intermission until the ice could be cleared.) Izuku couldn’t quite figure out why Todoroki hadn’t helped melt the ice. It was a bit rude, but maybe he had a reason. He obviously didn’t want to be near his father, but Todoroki hadn’t seen him until he’d already decided to leave. Maybe they’d had an argument before the match, and Todoroki knew that if he refused to help, his father would have to do it. Or he knew his father was in the stands and wanted to spite him?

When the ice had been cleared and the crowd returned, Present Mic called for the next competitors. Bakugou headed up the stage’s stairs with a scowl, and Hatsume walked up with more confidence than she should have for the opponent she was facing. No matter how advanced her inventions were, they would be no match for Bakugou.

Bakugou wasn’t one to pull his punches because his opponent was a girl. Izuku wanted to say that he would recognize how little of a threat Hatsume was and conserve his energy for his next match, but Izuku knew better. If Hatsume was lucky, one of Bakugou’s opening explosions would be powerful enough to knock her out of bounds. If she wasn’t, she’d leave covered in burns identical to Izuku’s.

Izuku stood up, forcing out something about needing to use the bathroom before scurrying out of their section.

The hallway was lit well by overhead lights, and luckily, it was as empty as the stadium’s lower level hallways had been. There was little sound coming from outside, muffled by the concrete walls. The floor under his feet shook with the force of an explosion Izuku could hear, and he picked up his pace and turned the corner.

In the bathroom, damp and cold in the way public restrooms tended to be, Izuku locked himself in a stall and sat on the western-style toilet. Despite his position, he was the most comfortable he’d been since he had arrived home the night before. Since he was eight years old, he’d always found comfort in the cold. It was why his favorite season was winter.

Resting his elbows on his knees, he closed his eyes and let them rest for perhaps the first time since he’d woken up that day. His hands were cold, so Izuku kept them pressed against his cheeks until they grew warm.

Though the bathroom was silent, the low rumbles of Bakugou’s explosions were impossible to tune out. He moved his hands from his cheeks to cover his ears.

He didn’t move until he heard cheers from the crowd drift inside. If the cheers were loud enough to hear, the match must’ve ended or a new one had started. Waiting another couple of seconds before getting up, he resolved to make it back to Class 1-C’s section before Bakugou could walk down the same hallway Izuku had to use to get back. If those cheers had indeed been for the end of the match, that is. If the next match had already started, Bakugou should have returned to his seat already.

Izuku rushed through the hallway without meeting any resistance, thankfully. Slipping through the doorway, he headed back to his seat as gingerly as he could. The cheers must have been for the end of Bakugou and Hatsume’s match. The stage was empty.

Next came Uraraka and Korikyu’s match. They stood facing each other, both crouching as they waited for Present Mic’s word. Their match was over rather quickly. Up in the air, Korikyu could do nothing but wait for Midnight to consider him immobilized and for Uraraka to release him. If only they both could have lost somehow— now Uraraka had to face Bakugou in the next round.

When their match ended, Shinsou stood up. Izuku wished him luck as he turned to leave. His match was against Kirishima, a boy in Class 1-A who he could easily win against if he made him talk before the match began. If not, their match would devolve into an endurance competition that Shinsou would lose.

Gritting his teeth, Izuku willed himself to focus on the match about to start. While the screen wouldn’t switch to video feed until Present Mic started the match, Izuku could see Shinsou’s mouth moving. Kirishima’s back was facing him, so Izuku couldn’t tell if he was responding. But Shinsou was making no move to suggest he was growing desperate. No taking a step forward, no opening his mouth wider to yell, no hand gestures that could indicate sudden anxiety. Shinsou didn’t even open his mouth again. He had already won.

When the match began, neither Shinsou or Kirishima moved at first. But after a few seconds, Kirishima turned around and walked out of bounds. As he walked, Present Mic explained Shinsou’s Quirk. But, just like Izuku, he only described the basics. He left out any specific details that could ruin the Quirk user’s chances of success in another match. When Midnight announced Shinsou’s win, the crowd matched Present Mic’s volume. Though Izuku didn’t have the confidence to contribute to the whoops and cheers, he did clap.

The next match was between Kyarano and the boy whose Quirk could turn air into a solid, who Izuku now could call Tsuburaba instead of Air Boy. Their match lasted longer than any of the previous matches, but not by much. Kyarano took the win with a nasty kick that sent him sprawling out of bounds.

A Class 1-A student fought a Class 1-B student — Yaoyorozu and Kuroiro — in the next match. After a few minutes of back and forth between the two, Yaoyorozu managed to immobilize him with a pair of cuffs around his wrists and ankles.

The last match was between Monoma and Kaminari, the blond boy with the electric-type Quirk. Kaminari attacked first when the match began. Once again, he yelled, “1.3 million volts!” before releasing a burst of lightning that shot towards Monoma in a loose line. But, at the same time as Kaminari’s shout, Monoma’s paler blond hair shifted into vines. They detached from his scalp to form a wall. The lightning hit it and dissipated, leaving behind an unscathed Monoma and a short-circuited Kaminari. (Present Mic then explained the side effect of using too much electricity. Kaminari lost intelligence after using his Quirk? Strange. Izuku had never heard of a drawback like that before.)

More importantly, however, was Monoma’s hair. Present Mic explained his Quirk seconds later. Its name was ‘Copy.’ So it wasn’t like Izuku’s Quirk, not really. Shoulders sagging, Izuku sat back in his seat. He refused to meet Shinsou’s eyes, which he could feel on his face.

Pushing his fingernails into his side, where his shirt would cover the marks and where Shinsou wouldn’t be able to see, Izuku forced himself to turn his attention back to the festival.

Present Mic announced the end of the first matches.

…

Chapter Text

Izuku was almost certain that Todoroki would solely use his right side during their match, though he had little clue as to why. Not that the reason currently mattered.

From what Izuku had seen, Todoroki needed to first produce a narrow trail of ice before it could grow into the fearsome attack that had nearly frozen the audience. Izuku didn’t know if Todoroki could use ice to fight close-range as well. He certainly seemed to favor keeping his opponents at a distance. So, if Izuku wanted to lose, he’d need to stay on his side of the stage. If he managed to get close enough to Todoroki, he’d be able to take his Quirk, and if he took Todoroki’s Quirk, he couldn’t lose without making it obvious that was what he wanted.

If he won, there was no way he would be able to win the next match. No way he’d be able to hide his scars. No way he’d leave without reliving what he thought he’d finally escaped from. If he won, the hero course teachers would realize he wasn’t fit to be a hero, and All Might would realize, and the audience would realize. They would all realize he was pathetic.

Maybe that was better than them believing he was a future villain. But they needed to see he could be a hero, and of the options available to him, losing here was the only outcome that might produce what he desired.

Unless Bakugou had already convinced the hero course teachers of that. He could’ve mentioned how worthless Izuku was, how he was less than worthless, how everyone had despised him. How everyone had wanted him to disappear so he wouldn’t become a thief and a killer. But, if Bakugou had already persuaded them, All Might wouldn’t have told him that the hero course teachers saw potential in him. Unless All Might had been lying to him to spare his feelings, but then why would All Might seek Izuku out just to lie to him when he could’ve stayed away? People tended to avoid lying unless pushed to do so by a situation they couldn’t avoid.

The hero course teachers knew his Quirk, and they’d known it since the first event. And yet All Might had said the hero course teachers were truly considering him. Maybe that even included Eraserhead. Maybe Eraserhead could see the similarities between himself and Izuku, and maybe they could all see past Izuku’s Quirk. Even if they couldn’t, and they were merely afraid of what he would become if they denied him a chance, he could still prove himself eventually. So maybe Izuku still had a chance, maybe even if he threw the match.

As Izuku reached the last step on the stairs, he froze.

If he purposely lost, Todoroki would move on to fight Bakugou. How could Izuku do that to him? He was the one who was used to the pain, the stench of smoke and burnt sugar in his nostrils. The melted skin that, no matter how well he took care of it, never healed into something unnoticeable. He was the one who could withstand the pain, and he was the one who should. What was one more scar on his body?

What right did he have to place his own safety before Todoroki’s? Wouldn’t that make him as awful as a villain?

No, he had to fight Todoroki with all the strength and strategy he had, and he would win.

As he took his place on the stage, the cheers of the crowd barely registering in the back of his mind, Izuku wished his match came later. He wished he’d brought his knife and his first-aid kit packed to the brim with gauze and bandages. He wished he could lock himself in the bathroom and come out with bloody shoulders and a clearer mind. He wished he’d had the sense to cut solely on his thighs instead of on his shoulders too, since those would be far less likely for Recovery Girl to find. Why was he such an idiot?

Todoroki’s face was blank, looking at him with an expression that wasn’t exactly bored but wasn’t interested either. His narrowed eyes never left Izuku’s. Izuku squirmed. It wasn’t a glare, as it was more calculating than malicious. It was nothing like the stares of his classmates whenever he had walked into their homeroom in junior high, or whenever he’d walked through the hallways, or whenever he’d walked into the building. Not nearly as painful to be the recipient of.

Though pictures of Todoroki weren’t hard to come by online, they didn’t capture the true details of his face. Both of his eyes were lighter in the sunlight, his blue eye the color of the sea in the summertime and his grey eye the color of a springtime storm cloud. The patch of burned skin surrounding his left eye was more prominent as well, red and mostly smooth. Entirely distinct from Izuku’s own, which were pink and silver and mangled. How had he gotten it? Had it hurt as much as Izuku’s had? It was on his face, around his eye no less, so Izuku guessed it had hurt worse than any of his ever had.

It was strange how Todoroki never made a move to cover his scar, never used makeup or grew out his hair to cover it like Izuku surely would have. It was admirable, that confidence. Averting his gaze, Izuku hoped Todoroki hadn’t caught him staring.

In the comfort of the press box, Present Mic introduced them yet again, keeping their introductions mostly the same. They both took their positions.

Present Mic called for them to begin.

Izuku didn’t have time to catch his breath before a wave of ice came barreling towards him. As it spread out across the stage, he could only describe the sound as the noise a shimmer would make if shimmering could indeed make a noise. Izuku launched himself to the side. Breaking into a run, he glanced back to see his previous position covered in a puzzle of glittering spikes. His legs protested as he sprinted alongside the trail of ice that had formed on the ground.

Another wave came hurtling right beside the first, much faster than the first had. Izuku forced himself to leap out of the way. He stumbled when he landed and put a hand down on the ground to keep himself from falling. Todoroki’s hand swept out for a third attack, so Izuku dove into a roll to the side. When he jumped up, ice had formed on the back of his left shoe and up his pant leg. His ankle stiffened at the biting cold, but the ice broke away as he kept moving. It was a far better kind of pain than it could’ve been.

Todoroki raised his right hand out again, and Izuku knew another attack was half a second away. But he was just an arm’s length away from Todoroki. So he stretched his hand out, fingers splayed and palm facing down. He could slap Todoroki’s wrist. He could feel his fingertips make contact.

But his palm never did. Just as he reached the skin on Todoroki’s hand, Izuku’s own was enclosed in a layer of ice.

Todoroki took a step back, exhaling out a tiny cloud of icy breath as he did. Without Todoroki there to stabilize him, Izuku tipped forward, but his face never met the ground. His feet were encapsulated in a thick block of ice that crept up to his calves. The ice bit into his exposed skin. His right hand was encased in ice as well, the ice ending in jagged edges in the middle of his forearm. A stabbing cold crept up beyond where the ice stopped, piercing through his skin until it went numb. Izuku didn’t mind at all.

Although his left hand was free, Todoroki had already backed far enough away to ensure Izuku had no hope of reaching him.

“Midoriya is immobilized. Todoroki wins!” Midnight said, emphasizing her point with a crack of her whip.

Todoroki sighed, and it almost sounded like he was disappointed. Izuku had to wonder whether that was because their match ended so quickly, because Todoroki had wanted more of a challenge. But he would get more of a fight during the next set of matches, and it was Izuku’s fault.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said.

“For what?” Todoroki asked, voice monotone.

He stepped back over to Izuku and put his left hand on the ice around Izuku’s arm, and Izuku forced himself not to flinch away. The ice melted, and the water slid down his arm and dripped onto the ground. Todoroki then moved to melting the ice around Izuku’s feet. Holding his arm away to keep the water from dripping onto Todoroki, Izuku eyed Todoroki’s hand, searching for a sudden attack his rational mind didn’t expect but his subconscious mind did.

“...For losing.”

“You tried, didn’t you?”

“I… I did,” Izuku said.

“Then it’s fine.”

Todoroki stood up, his work complete. Izuku stepped out of the puddle the melted ice had created under his shoes, which were now soaked through with water that wasn’t exactly warm. He shivered, rubbing his wet arm against his shirt to dry it off.

“Here,” Todoroki said, reaching out slowly to put his hand against Izuku’s arm.

Izuku jolted at both the touch and the heat that radiated from it, but Todoroki didn’t pull away— likely because he expected such a reaction from the sudden change in temperature. Izuku locked his arm in place. The heat was a pleasant temperature, and Todoroki was merely trying to help. Izuku knew this, but it was still heat on his flesh. So, as soon as his skin had warmed up, Izuku snatched his arm back, eliciting a confused, almost offended look from Todoroki.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t, um, mean to… Move like…”

Todoroki gave him a somewhat awkward nod and turned to leave, but Izuku stopped him before he could get far.

“Can you fight Bakugou?”

Todoroki’s confusion was obvious. “I have to.”

“You should use your fire too,” Izuku said. “If… if you can. It would work well against Bakugou’s Quirk, since the skin on his hands produces a substance like nitroglycerin, and that explodes when exposed to sudden heat. You could use your fire to activate Bakugou’s Quirk to use against him...”

“I can’t.”

It certainly wasn’t Izuku’s place to ask. But if Todoroki wanted to leave his next fight without scars to match Izuku’s, he needed all the power he had. (Even if Todoroki’s left side was fireproof, Bakugou would target the side where his explosions would do the most damage possible.) And, if Todoroki could use his fire side to warm Izuku’s skin, what was stopping him from using it to fight?

“Why not?” Izuku asked softly.

“It’s my father’s Quirk,” he said, then started to walk away.

Was that the reason why he seemed so disappointed in the outcome of their match? That their fight hadn’t been long enough for him to demonstrate how unwilling he was to use his fire in front of his father? It would make sense. Now that Izuku knew that much, he could tell that when Todoroki glanced up at the stands, it was to look at his father. To gauge his father’s reaction to his defiance, Izuku supposed. In that case, his refusal to melt the ice had been another jab at his father.

Izuku didn’t know much about what having a father was like, but he knew enough to know Todoroki’s relationship with his father was… unusual. Sure, teenagers were prone to rebelling against their parents. And sure, if Izuku had a copy of his father’s Quirk, he’d be much happier. So maybe his judgement was biased. But from what Izuku knew, Endeavor wasn’t kind to even the people he saved. Still, Todoroki’s reaction seemed extreme for just that.

And why would Todoroki hate a Quirk so perfect for heroism? Even if his father was a terrible person who Todoroki wanted nothing to do with, his Quirk wasn’t his father’s. Who would believe their Quirk was just their parent’s? To think that he could reject half of his Quirk and still make it to the semifinal match of the third event without any trouble. That Todoroki, with his plainly heroic Quirk, could breeze through the festival with only half his power, Shinsou and Izuku were forced to use their Quirks just to survive.

Except, who was Izuku to talk? When he had refused to use his Quirk in the first event and most of the second? Were Todoroki and he honestly so different? No, there was a significant distinction to be made between their situations: Todoroki didn’t need to suppress his Quirk. It was a burden he was forcing himself to bear for no justifiable reason. What kind of daily stress was he under, suppressing a part of himself so intensely?

“Stop by Recovery Girl’s office to make sure you didn’t get any ice burns, Midoriya,” Midnight called out.

“Right...” Izuku said.

Todoroki’s half-white, half-red hair disappeared under the first step of the stairs, and Izuku didn’t follow.

…

Chapter Text

Midoriya didn’t come back until Bakugou and Uraraka’s match had finished. Hitoshi didn’t see him until he left the stands for his match. The idiot’d been leaning just outside the door in the hall, eyes moving around and stopping on doors the way they always did. He was making a face too. Made him look constipated.

“Why’re y’making that face?”

“What face?”

“The one you’re making,” Hitoshi said. Midoriya just gave him a look. Well, he’d tried. “Here the whole time?”

“I- um, Midnight told me to go visit Recovery Girl before I went back up. That took a little while.”

Yeah, right. He looked like shit; he hadn’t gone to Recovery Girl. Hitoshi would have to drag him there after the festival was over. Not literally drag. Obviously. Just words. Brainwashing or not would be determined by level of cooperation.

“And I… I didn’t want to disturb anyone by walking in during the match.”

Also bullshit.

“Uh-huh.”

“...Are you ready for your match?”

Fine. He’d let Midoriya change the subject. “Hope so.”

Midoriya smiled. “You’ll win.”

“Right,” Hitoshi said, then turned to leave with a wave over his shoulder.

If Hitoshi wasn’t certain before, he sure was now.

He saw how Midoriya locked himself in the stall farthest from the changing area during PE. Listened to him make excuses to avoid lifting his shirt to show Recovery Girl his bruises. Watched him sit on the edge of his chair during lunch so he would be as far away as possible from the person sitting next to him. Heard the way he talked about Bakugou during the second round. And now, noticed how he conveniently disappeared whenever Bakugou was fighting.

Midoriya could claim all he wanted that he was just jumpy, but Hitoshi knew better. But he didn’t ask. Midoriya wouldn’t’ve told him the truth anyways.

But, damnit, Hitoshi wanted to help.

Midoriya wasn’t like the assholes at his junior high. Midoriya was the guy who’d gone through what kids with “villainous” Quirks did. And Hitoshi knew it was way worse than what he’d gotten. Midoriya was the first guy who never once hesitated when responding to a question of Hitoshi’s after learning what his Quirk was. Instead, he’d said it was perfect for a hero. Just like Hitoshi knew. But nobody’d ever agreed.

Yeah, he wanted to help.

If helping meant putting Bakugou in his place, he would be happy to do it. Maybe brainwash him into aiming an explosion at his own nose? Sounded like fun. The guy was just asking for someone to knock him down a few hundred pegs. If it meant punching Bakugou in the face himself, Hitoshi wouldn’t mind that either.

But, right now, Hitoshi had a single goal: win his next match. Then the one after that. And the one after that.

If he made it to the final match, he’d go up against either Bakugou or Todoroki. With those flashy “heroic” Quirks, those two were just destined to be top Pros. It’d be nice to see Hitoshi’s petty “villainous” Quirk take one of them down. He was hoping for Bakugou. But beating Todoroki after he’d beaten Bakugou wouldn’t be so bad.

Hitoshi needed to win against the wolf girl to have a shot at that.

He walked through the musty hall and into the harsh sunlight, shooting a glare at the crowd when they started to cheer. They wouldn’t be cheering if he was using his Quirk on one of them. They were cheering because they were safe up in the stands. He scowled. The hero course teachers better be up there watching, and they better be smart enough to see what they should see in his Quirk.

The stairs had his legs burning by the time he finished climbing them. Did there have to be so many? It was like Cementoss just wanted to watch them suffer from the comfort of his chair. At least the thing was made of cement. He deserved to suffer a little too. Unless he didn’t mind that his chair was made of cement; he was basically made of cement himself. Then Hitoshi wished a stray attack from one of their matches would give him a good knock on his blocky head. That’d be funny. Terrible, but funny.

Across from him, Kyarano was running through some arm stretches and bouncing on her furred feet. Not a bad idea, so he did the same.

Midoriya had mentioned knowing her. But he hadn’t taken the hero course entrance exam, so Hitoshi had no clue how they’d met. Unless they knew each other from somewhere outside of U.A.

He could ask later. Right now, he had a wolf girl to irritate.

It had been laughably easy to brainwash the guy with the shark teeth. Half a sentence about how he and his teammates had used someone strong like Bakugou to pass the second round had been enough. Most people got testy when someone insulted them and their friends. Especially self-righteous hero course students with Quirks they took for granted. Not that Hitoshi wouldn’t be upset if someone bad-mouthed Midoriya, even if the guy refused to use his Quirk sometimes.

But people like the shark kid didn’t insult, ignore, avoid, or torment people like Hitoshi and Midoriya. They pitied them instead. Hitoshi would show them just where they could shove that pity.

He cracked his knuckles just to hear each satisfying pop and asked, “1-B just here t’prove they’re better than 1-A?”

She pursed her lips, and Hitoshi laughed. He’d expected that.

Present Mic started the match.

The wolf girl wasted no time. She was flying at him in a second, reaching one arm out to grab his wrist. He jerked away, then jumped back.

He raised both fists to just in front of his jaw and held them there. “That’s all?” he taunted.

This time, she opened her mouth. But she didn’t say anything. What she did do was bare her teeth before she lunged again. She was faster now. Hitoshi couldn’t dodge in time, so he stopped where he was and forced his arms up by his side. Her kick landed against his block, shooting a bruising pain through his forearms. He grunted and toppled backward from the force.

That girl sure had enough brute strength. That kick hurt like hell.

He rolled backwards over his shoulder just like Midoriya had taught him to do a couple weeks ago. It wasn’t perfect. Which was why he didn’t have enough momentum to jump back up. The wolf nearly stomped on his skull, but he pushed himself out of the way with one hand. His temple hit the ground as he flipped over, but he forced himself to jump up. Wincing, he watched her with one eye open.

“All hero course kids so desperate t’prove themselves? Or just you?”

She threw another kick, this one at his head. He ducked under it, ready to jab her in the side. But then came the flash of her other leg. She’d turned and kicked backward, knee bent to hook him around the throat. It was a kick he’d attempted once and never again; he’d pulled muscles he didn’t know he had trying to do the damn thing.

Throwing his arm up to protect his head, he took the blow. His shoes slipped on the ground as he was pushed back. But he didn’t fall this time. Instead, he landed a solid punch to her kidney that she’d left wide open. She doubled over, letting out a yelp that sounded more like a growl.

With her hunched over, he couldn’t pull off any kind of throw. So he went in for another trusted punch. It was more of a haymaker, but it did its job. It connected with the side of her head and sent her stumbling. She didn’t fall, but her falter gave him enough time to back away. He cradled his fist in his hand for a second, knuckles throbbing. Then he brought both back to his chin.

“Not bad,” he said.

She still didn’t say anything.

“‘M impressed. ‘N I thought hero course kids loved t’talk.”

She shot him a half-smile, half-glare. It didn’t scare him. He could do better.

Hitoshi moved first. He kept his fists close to his face, ready to move to block any attack. If he telegraphed his moves, they wouldn’t land. The wolf was too fast for that. So when she started a tiger-style punch, he dropped to the ground and out of her sight. He swept her leg out from under her. Or tried to. Right before he made contact with her ankle, she hopped over his leg and managed to keep herself upright.

She kicked her leg around and down in a brutal axe kick, and Hitoshi barely had time to scramble away. Her heel hit the ground. Cement cracked. Hitoshi shot to his feet and whirled around, aiming a left jab at her nose. Just before it connected, her hand shot out.

She stopped his fist with her palm, then curled her fingers around his hand. Her nails dug into his skin, drawing tiny drops of blood. Worse than that was her grip. If she kept tightening it, she’d crush the bones in his hand. He clamped his teeth together for a moment to stop himself from grunting in pain; she didn’t deserve the satisfaction of getting him to admit it hurt. When he threw a punch with the other hand, she gripped that fist hard enough to crush too. He swore he could hear his bones creaking.

Hitoshi narrowed his eyes at her, face twisted. “Keep going.”

She grinned. “Gladly.”

Hitoshi laughed. Her eyes clouded over, and her hands dropped away from Hitoshi’s.

“Walk over the white line t’your left. Then stop.”

She followed his instructions with obnoxiously slow steps. Not that it mattered. He’d already won.

He shook his hands out, frowning at how stiff they were. He’d need to get them checked out by Recovery Girl once the day was over. Not before. Before would mean he’d lose the little energy he had left. For once in his life, he’d gotten decent sleep that night. But that didn’t cancel out years of waking up one, two, three times before his alarm.

Present Mic announced his win, and the crowd went wild. Like they didn’t care about his Quirk as long as he only brainwashed other contestants. Funny how that was. But he knew better than to think they’d take that fight to mean anything. He’d bet his extensive and very necessary stash of medium roast coffee that they’d still hesitate if he asked them what time it was.

The crowd was cheering louder for him than they had for Midoriya. If participating in the festival bought Hitoshi a couple of not-completely-villainous passes, it wouldn’t do anything for him.

Midoriya was an idiot for wanting to be a normal Pro. Why not try to become an underground hero like him? It’d be much easier. Stay out of the limelight, avoid assholes assuming you’ll switch to the dark side with the right bribe. When he’d asked, Midoriya’d said he wanted to be a hero who could prove no Quirk was naturally villainous. It made sense, since undergrounds couldn’t do that. But Hitoshi wasn’t sure the public’d change their minds anyways. People didn’t change easily. Or often.

Hitoshi glanced over at the wolf girl, who was staring blankly into the crowd. She’d stopped just outside the line and now stood completely still. After releasing his hold on her mind, Hitoshi shoved his thumbs in his pockets and headed to the stairs. His hands throbbed.

The shade in the hall felt nice. He turned right and headed for the first door on his left. Before he went up, he stopped at the water fountain. The water was fresh on his tongue and cold on his knuckles.

As he walked up the stairs two at a time, he dried his hands on his pants. He stopped halfway up to catch his breath. He’d need to work on his endurance if that short fight had been enough to wind him. Fights with villains, underground or not, wouldn’t be so simple. Not when his Quirk didn’t work.

Even as an underground hero, he couldn’t keep his Quirk secret forever. There’d be rumors of it floating around in the villain world. Just like there were for Eraserhead. U.A. wasn’t really the issue, since hero course students never wore their hero costumes during televised competitions. Most undergrounds wore masks, too. So no issue there. But the more villains you caught, the more your Quirk got out there. It was unavoidable.

The fluorescent lights of the stairs and hall hurt his eyes, but the sunlight in the stands wasn’t any better. He squinted as he took a seat next to Midoriya. Hopefully, it wasn’t obvious how he sat on the edge of it. He’d noticed the way Midoriya did the same thing before. He’d sit with a seat between them if he thought it’d be better, but he had a feeling Midoriya would assume he didn’t want to sit next to him anymore. Because Hitoshi was mad that he hadn’t used his Quirk enough.

The guy was too worried about his Quirk. What would it take to get him to shut up about it? Or accept it? If everyone was going to treat you like a villain whether you used your Quirk or not, why bother playing nice? Using it would make his life much easier. It sure made Hitoshi’s easier.

When he’d started crying about it during the second round, Hitoshi’d almost wanted to slap him. But whatever Bakugou’d done to him was way worse than whatever Hitoshi’d gone through. Maybe if someone’d abused him, he’d hate his Quirk too.

Midoriya smiled up at him. “Good job.”

“Thanks.” Hitoshi ran a hand through his hair. Grossly sweaty. “Y’know her?”

“Kyarano? Oh, yeah, we met on the day of entrance exams. She was taking the written portion of the hero course’s exam in the classroom next to mine.”

Hitoshi was eternally grateful that Midoriya never asked him to elaborate. He just guessed correctly, gave Hitoshi a split second to correct him in case he’d assumed wrong, then answered. Every time. Everyone else always asked him to clarify like they shouldn’t be expected to know what he was saying. Got mad at him for not specifying anything. It shouldn’t be as hard as it was for them.

His weird way of talking hadn’t started as laziness. It was now, but it hadn’t been. In junior high, he’d started talking like that. It’d been to make friends. Kids had been afraid of talking to him. The teachers too. So he did the logical thing; he stopped talking. But making friends without talking was even harder than making friends with it, so he did the next best thing. He talked less. It didn’t work. He should’ve known it wouldn’t, but he’d been a stupid kid.

Now, he still talked less because it was a habit. Not exactly easy to break, so he didn’t. If anyone couldn’t figure out what he was saying, then they didn’t deserve to know.

Midoriya kept going, “Eraserhead was their proctor, and he’d arrived late, so they had to wait outside the classroom. We talked for a little while.”

It’d been a shock for Hitoshi to discover Eraserhead was a teacher at U.A. He hadn’t even recognized the hero when Midoriya had pointed him out at first. It wasn’t like Eraserhead had many pictures online. He was a ghost, essentially. And the few grainy pictures of him that did exist were with his face covered by his yellow goggles and grey binding cloth.

Hitoshi’d asked how Midoriya recognized him. Turned out Eraserhead was one of Midoriya’s favorite heroes too.

To think Hitoshi’s favorite Pro was constantly in the same building as them. To think he wasn’t training under Eraserhead because of a biased entrance exam.

Hitoshi hummed in response.

Midoriya tilted his head, eyes on Hitoshi’s hand. “Did she hurt your hands? She was crushing them, wasn’t she? I knew she would have a lot of brute strength, since most animal-related mutant-types tend to, but especially with a wolf Quirk. I’m sure you knew that, though. Everyone knows that. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re...” There he went again. Hitoshi tuned him out until he heard something that made sense. “Are you going to get Recovery Girl to check them out later? After your next match?”

“If I lose,” Hitoshi said.

Midoriya froze. “Oh- Yeah, of course. I didn’t mean—”

“Y’want me t’lose.”

“No! No. Of course I don’t want you to lose. I just, I, well, um…”

Hitoshi started to lean closer to Midoriya but stopped when he realized what he was doing. Leaning back, he said, “Don’t want me t’fight Bakugou.”

Midoriya looked down at his hands, which were linked together. He glanced back up at Hitoshi occasionally. “It’s just… he knows how your Quirk works now. He has to. And...”

“I’ll win.”

“Shinsou, you won’t. You can’t.”

“What’d he do?” Hitoshi asked.

Midoriya crossed his arms over his chest. Both his hands went under his sleeves, and he wouldn’t meet Hitoshi’s eyes. But he still glanced between his hands and Hitoshi like he needed to keep an eye on him. What did he think Hitoshi was going to do? Hit him?

“Tell me. One day.”

For a while, Midoriya didn’t move. It wasn’t until the next two competitors were on stage that he nodded slowly. Hitoshi accepted the answer and turned back to the next match.

...

Chapter Text

Whoever won this fight would be his next opponent.

Yaoyorozu, the girl with some creation Quirk. And Monoma, the guy with a sad excuse for Midoriya’s Quirk. Both hero course students and therefore both probably irritating. Their fight sure was annoying. Surprisingly, the girl won. Embarrassing for the idiot with three Quirks in him when he started the match. If Hitoshi’d been blessed with that Quirk, he would’ve used it properly. Even Midoriya agreed with him in his own less-insulting way, if his mumbling was anything to go off of.

After their match was an hour-long break. Midoriya and Hitoshi spent it in the cafeteria, which was only open to the students and teachers. Midoriya snagged them a table at the end of one of the rows; it was a table he wasn’t as jumpy sitting at. Hitoshi didn’t care. He wasn’t the biggest fan of bumping into people who didn’t have enough sense to mind his personal space anyways.

When they left early to get back to the stands before the crowd hit, Midoriya muttered an excuse to go to the bathroom. He almost smacked his face into the doorway of the bathroom with how fast he was moving. Hitoshi guessed he wouldn’t be seeing him until after Todoroki and Bakugou’s match.

He was right. Midoriya didn’t reappear until Present Mic announced Bakugou as the winner and the crowd cheered loud enough to damage his ears. It was almost funny how little they cared about how brutal Bakugou had been. Almost. Todoroki had put up a decent fight with his ice, but Bakugou hadn’t let up. And he had the audacity to look pissed when he won. Like he hadn’t won if he didn’t kill someone. Like the candy cane having to be carted away on a stretcher wasn’t enough for him. When he commented on it, all Midoriya said was Bakugou needed to know he’d won against someone doing their best.

Hitoshi couldn’t say he didn’t expect to leave the fight with a few burns. But he’d already known what a fight with Bakugou could lead to. And Hitoshi could catch the asshole off guard. He would slip if Hitoshi asked about what he’d done to Midoriya. All Hitoshi would need was the start of a word, but it’d be hard to cut him off there. But maybe he could brainwash Bakugou into spilling everything.

Midoriya wouldn’t like that much. But if the asshole’d hurt him, it was Hitoshi’s job to turn Bakugou in. He’d already left a burned hole in Midoriya’s shirt, and Hitoshi didn’t think that happening once or twice in the past would make Midoriya act the way he did. Villains didn’t belong at U.A.

Midoriya waved him goodbye and quietly wished him luck. Good luck on losing, probably. Didn’t matter.

Up on the stage, Hitoshi did some last-minute stretches. He strategically hadn’t eaten much during lunch so he wouldn’t feel awful. Actually, he felt decent. Better than a normal day. With his usual amount of coffee, he might go so far as to say he didn’t feel like collapsing and falling asleep instantly when he hit the ground.

As Present Mic introduced him and Yaoyorozu, she unzipped her PE shirt. She kept it on but let the two halves split to reveal a sports bra. Just in case? Or was she planning to make something too big for her arms when the match started?

“Planning something?” Hitoshi asked.

She put a hand over her mouth, and Hitoshi scoffed.

“Don’t think too hard. Might hurt yourself.”

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t take her hand away.

“Almost feel bad for Todoroki,” Hitoshi said, hand on his chest. “All hero course students get away with everything? Or just Bakugou?”

No response.

The match started, and the first thing Yaoyorozu made was a strip of duct tape. She pressed the tape to her mouth, and he didn’t stop himself from laughing a little. Was she serious? At least he wouldn’t have to waste his breath anymore.

He wasn’t about to wait for her to make something else. He rushed at her, and she didn’t do anything to stop him. Driving his hands into her shoulders, he shoved her backwards. When he’d made it halfway to the line behind her, she tipped over. Just sat down. Hitoshi stumbled, jumping over her to avoid tripping. His awkward landing on his knees wasn’t the most comfortable, but at least he hadn’t touched the line.

She moved to push him backward and over the line not a meter away, so he dove to the side. Concrete wasn’t as forgiving as grass. Not even when his roll was perfect. Wincing, he stood up, turned to face her, and brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes.

Hitoshi waited for her to make the next move. When she did, starting to launch herself forward, he sprung into action. She threw a punch. He slipped around it, driving the heel of his palm into her ribs at the same time. Heaving, she stumbled back. He didn’t follow.

Closer to the line but not close enough, the girl lifted her arm. From her forearm came a pair of handcuffs. She caught them when they slid off her arm and gripped them in her right hand. Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. Those again? They might’ve worked on that 1-B kid, but not him. He would’ve thought she’d be more creative.

She rushed at him, clutching the cuffs near her chest. When she was in range, she lunged for his wrist. He blocked it sideways with one arm and grabbed her wrist to keep the cuffs away. This fight wasn’t like his and Midoriya’s sparring. She didn’t know how to pull her punches back quick enough. He landed a quick jab to her side, then pulled her closer with a firm grip on her forearm. When she stumbled, he twisted, sliding his back foot around in a half-circle. With a hand pushing the back of her neck, he drove her into the ground.

He probably could’ve redirected her momentum to force her out of bounds. Or at least get her closer to the line. But weakening her first wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like she could put up much of a fight if he didn’t let her use her Quirk, and she wasn’t a fighter without it. He was no expert in Quirkless fighting, but compared to her he was.

Still, he backed off. He couldn’t let her cuff his ankles. But he also couldn’t kick her into the ground. Villains would be happy to do it, so she should get some experience. She’d never learn to properly defend herself if everyone took it easy on her in training. But the audience wouldn’t appreciate him beating on some so-called helpless girl. Especially not with his Quirk.

She struggled to her feet, cuffs still in hand. Her arms and face had been dirtied from the fall. One side of her face must’ve scuffed the concrete hard, since it was red and scratched. Her hair had mostly fallen out of its ponytail. Hitoshi’s hair wasn’t faring much better. He had to brush another few strands back so it could scoff at gravity again.

This time, she was the one to attack him. She came in from the side, like that would improve her chance of success. It was farther from the nearest white line, but she couldn’t run around Hitoshi’s counterattacks. She ducked under his punch and moved in for an uppercut. He blocked down on it before it could gain power.

Her uppercut was followed by a hook, which he leaned back to dodge. Again, she didn’t pull it back to her face quick enough. He grabbed her wrist, pressed both of his thumbs to the back of her hand, and pushed it in the opposite direction it had come. To avoid the pain, she let herself fall to the ground. But she didn’t twist enough. So he didn’t let up, instead keeping a slight pressure on her hand. The cuffs that she’d been holding fell to the ground as she loosened her grip.

It was a move Midoriya had learned from a jiu jitsu video. He’d taught it to Hitoshi after perfecting it on Hitoshi himself. It was nasty; it could easily break a wrist with enough pressure. Hitoshi made sure not to go that far, but just barely. The pressure was maybe enough to fracture it.

With her back to the ground, she tried to struggle, but a slight press down on her hand made her stop. In a few seconds, she’d give up and Midnight could count her incapacitated. Turned out he didn’t even need to rely on the lines.

That was what Hitoshi thought.

Until the girl moved her other arm, grabbed his ankle, and something black oozed out of her hand. Tar? Something like it? It slid down his ankle slowly, but she made enough to make it hit the ground before he could wrestle his leg out of her grip. When it had glued him to the ground, she pulled her hand out with no trouble at all. Then she stepped back to admire her work.

It had coated part of his pant leg too; there was no hope of escaping it. Tugging on his foot didn’t even make the stuff budge. Hitoshi glared at the girl as she slowly peeled away the tape over her mouth. She’d already won. There was no use trying to brainwash her now.

Midnight announced Yaoyorozu as the winner. Hitoshi scowled.

As she went to work trying to remove the tar, Hitoshi stared up at 1-A’s section in the stands. He couldn’t see Bakugou from that far, but he knew the asshole was up there.

So he wouldn’t get his chance to put Bakugou in his place. Not now, at least. But it would come. If it didn’t come naturally, Hitoshi would force it. He wasn’t trying to become a hero just to let a villain escape.

…

Chapter Text

Izuku peeked out of the door of Class 1-C’s homeroom, eyes scanning each person who passed, searching for the distinct split hair of one Shouto Todoroki.

It had been three days since the sports festival. He had a good reason for waiting, though. They hadn’t had school the day after the festival— to let the competitors get some rest. And the day after that, he’d tried to find Todoroki after school, but when he’d emerged from his homeroom, it was with Bakugou right behind him. Izuku hadn’t wanted to ruin Bakugou’s week any more than it already had been ruined. Bakugou hadn’t taken kindly to winning the festival, since Todoroki hadn’t fought with his fire. And nobody else had stood much of a chance. (Thankfully, Todoroki had escaped his fight without any permanent injuries.)

Izuku was just glad Shinsou lost to Yaoyorozu. Not that he wanted Shinsou to lose, of course, but if he’d won… Bakugou could have destroyed his muscles permanently. How would he become a hero then? Bakugou fighting Yaoyorozu instead minimized the damage caused overall. He didn’t have to do much to incapacitate her. She hadn’t even needed to visit Recovery Girl, from what Shinsou had told him. She had lost so quickly.

And, even after losing to Yaoyorozu, Shinsou had taken third place. From the research he’d done to predict the first two events, Izuku was well aware that few general course students ever made it to the second event, and even fewer ever moved on to the third. In the last twenty sports festivals, not a single general course student had appeared on the podium.

Therefore, Izuku was rather confident Shinsou would be getting another chance to demonstrate his potential to transfer, thankfully.

They had decided to take the week off from sparring to recover. So, as soon as Izuku had told him he would be staying a little later, Shinsou left with a lazy wave.

The first students to leave Class 1-A’s room were Uraraka and the broad-shouldered boy who had the aura of a class president. A class president who truly wanted to be one, rather than the one who volunteered for the ability to say that he did. He was the one who’d had enough confidence to scold Bakugou during the festival. Izuku ducked back inside Class 1-C’s room to avoid being spotted. A couple more students wandered out, oblivious to their surroundings as they conversed loudly among themselves. Todoroki was next to leave, and after checking to ensure Bakugou wasn’t behind him, Izuku slipped into the hallway.

He wove his way through the crowd, dodging anyone who looked prepared to run into him if he didn’t move. His skin started to itch, flaring along his arm when he brushed against someone. Jerking away, he quickened his pace until he reached the other wall where Todoroki was nearly pressed against. He didn’t seem uncomfortable with the crowd. Still, he didn’t seem pleased that there were so many people he had to dodge to keep from being trampled.

“I- um, Todoroki?” Izuku greeted lamely, turning to walk beside him, slowing to a pace that would ensure Izuku could keep Todoroki in his sight. “I… wanted to talk to you for a minute… if that’s okay?”

Todoroki stared at him for a few tense seconds. Before Izuku could stutter out an apology and excuse himself, he spoke. “Okay.”

“Right. All right… Can we go down this hall?” Izuku asked, though Todoroki didn’t seem to feel a need to respond.

He turned left to head down the middle hall that opened up into the building’s atrium, which had always been too open for him. Staircases wrapped around all four sides, leading up to the tenth floor one at a time. In the middle, illuminated by light streaming down through the glass ceiling, was a collection of desks and tables. An array of chairs surrounded each, some armchairs and others loveseats. Each was a solid color of either blue or yellow or red— U.A.’s colors.

Students tended to use the side stairwells, as they were closer to the classrooms, so the crowd was considerably less there. Izuku led Todoroki to the atrium and turned left as soon as he could. Taking a few more steps, he then pressed his back against the wall. While he could’ve led them to the chairs, their position provided multiple exits, and knowing someone couldn’t sneak up behind him was comforting.

“Is there a reason you brought me here?”

“Oh- I… yes,” Izuku said. He took a deep breath. “At the sports festival… You, uh… you said you couldn’t use your fire because it was your father’s.”

“Yes.”

“What’s… wrong with your father?”

“I’m sure you know who he is,” Todoroki said.

He didn’t wait for Izuku to nod. Instead, he spoke of Quirk marriages, of what they were and how his mother had been forced into one. How he was born, how he was created, to usurp All Might because his father never could. How his mother, but really his father, was responsible for his scar. How his siblings hadn’t had the perfect combination of ice and fire and were therefore kept away from Todoroki because he was Endeavor’s one successful creation. How his father had trained him nearly every day. Though, by Todoroki’s descriptions, it was less training and more abuse. And how he refused to use his left side to produce any flames because they would be his father’s.

Izuku’s heart sank as Todoroki finished his story, his face still as blank as ever. As if he were reciting the information for a school project. Had he really been able to detach himself so completely from his past experiences — and most likely present as well — that he could talk about it so calmly? Izuku couldn’t imagine the pain he’d gone through. Or the pain he was still going through.

Because, sure, he knew what it was like to be hurt by the hands of someone close to him, but a former childhood friend and a father weren’t interchangeable. And to be born for the sake of achieving someone else’s dreams, as well? Izuku’s mother had always been skeptical of his dreams, but it was only out of fear for his safety and well-being. She had always supported his happiness, if not his aspirations.

“Todoroki, I… I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“Now you know why I can’t use my left side. I will not be my father.”

Izuku doubted he was the right person to say it, but he might be the only one who would. So he said softly, “But you’re not your father. And your fire side, it’s not your father’s. If I… If I used my Quirk on you, I wouldn’t take your father’s Quirk. He’d still be sitting in his agency or out in the city, his Hellflame Quirk intact. It’s the same for your mother, too. If I used my Quirk on you, I’d be taking your Quirk. It’s your power, Todoroki.”

Todoroki stared at him, and it was only years of experience that allowed Izuku to see the barest hint of surprise on his face.

How had Izuku gotten irritated with Todoroki for doing exactly what he had been doing: rejecting his Quirk?

He couldn’t truthfully say that he regretted not using his Quirk during the first event of the festival, but he could’ve done more. He could have asked the business course students and risked the rejection that would’ve most likely followed. If Izuku had asked Bakugou to throw him all of his team’s headbands, he would’ve been eliminated then, and Izuku could’ve fought with more conviction. He could have accepted Shinsou’s Quirk when he had offered it. He could have asked to take Korikyu’s Quirk. And, in the third event, he should have fought seriously, rather than disrespect his opponents by contemplating forfeiting— something he hadn’t realized he’d been doing until after the festival was over. But he was an idiot and a coward.

Those were all excuses, of course. He had to improve. He had to use his Quirk when the time called for it. If it would help him become a hero, if it would help him become someone who saved lives and futures, he’d use it. He had to use it, despite how imperfect it was for a hero.

“Your Quirk… It’s a great Quirk,” Izuku said, corners of his lips upturned. “I know you hate it — or half of it — but you shouldn’t. Because it’s yours, it’s not your father’s, and it’s so heroic. You’re heroic, Todoroki.”

Todoroki said nothing, still watching Izuku like he was trying to discern just who he was. That was fair, Izuku supposed, considering they’d only met once, and on a stage to fight each other no less.

Izuku certainly didn’t feel like he was the right person to tell Shouto Todoroki that he was in the wrong. If he wanted to, Todoroki could easily freeze Izuku solid and leave him to be found by a poor janitor who would have to help him. Todoroki didn’t strike Izuku as the type to do something so spiteful, but still.

Izuku shifted from foot to foot, fiddling with his fingers as he waited for a reply. Did he really need a response at all, or could he flee now?

“It’s… mine,” Todoroki said finally.

“Exactly!” Izuku said, cringing as soon as the overenthusiastic word left his mouth. “Well, anyway, I, um, should be getting home. Sorry for bothering you.”

After nodding to Todoroki, he scurried away, hurrying down the empty hallway and through the main doors. He tugged his backpack onto his right shoulder tighter, ignoring the way the bandage shifted uncomfortably on his left shoulder. On the way home, he’d need to stop by the convenience store to pick up another couple packs of bandages and another roll of gauze. He was starting to run low on both after using so much in the past few days.

As he turned left at the main gate, Izuku glanced over his shoulder. Todoroki had just cleared the hill far above Izuku. He averted his eyes.

He hoped his words had helped, but he knew they could only do so much. People only changed when they wanted to, so all Izuku could do was hope his words would sway Todoroki to make the decision himself. Because they shouldn’t have the luxury of refusing to use their Quirks, did they? At least, not in good conscience.

After all, they could help more people if they used their Quirks to the best of their abilities. That was what heroes did.

…

Chapter Text

Four days after the sports festival, Izuku found himself sitting in Midnight’s history class, their last class before they were let out for the day. He took notes furiously, as always. He had to be mindful to avoid clicking his pen or bouncing his leg under his desk. After revealing his Quirk, his classmates had been… less inclined to talk to him, though it was nothing near junior high. Still, he thought it best not to provoke them any further. Not that he would’ve had they not begun acting differently.

From his spot in the back, he could see Shinsou’s head drooping as if he were seconds away from falling asleep and smacking his forehead into his desk. Normally, he would just put his head down or prop it up on his hand, but the looming midterms were probably prompting him to try to pay attention in class for once. Shinsou was one of those students who could sleep during class and study solely the night before and still walk away with decent grades.

(But, because he never tended to pay attention, he never needed pencils. So Izuku had been lending him quite a few recently. Mostly because Shinsou would take them, never give them back, and lose them. At least Izuku had plenty to spare. He always kept extras for his notebooks.)

Izuku never had the confidence to try to leave all of his studying and work until the night before. Not at U.A. For the first time in years, his teachers graded his papers fairly. At U.A., he could receive perfect scores on his essays— something he assumed was the result of a stricter policy against Quirk discrimination. His poorer grades in math were more a result of his lack of understanding and not finishing tests than his teachers’ unfairness. (Japanese was the only class he had an impressive score in, because the class was graded on essays that they had at least a few days to write.)

When the clock above Midnight’s head told Izuku that they had three minutes left, he started packing his backpack. It was a habit he still hadn’t broken, but he hadn’t made any particular effort to do so. It was slightly more comforting to know he was prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.

The bell chimed over the intercom, and Izuku and Shinsou stayed seated while their classmates gathered up their belongings and made their ways to the door. Midnight said, “Have a good day, everyone. Make sure to finish your essays by tomorrow. And Midoriya, Shinsou, can you stay after class for a minute?”

Shinsou and Izuku both pointedly ignored the looks they were receiving from their classmates. One of them, however, shrunk back, while the other disregarded them with a skill the former didn’t have.

The rest of the class left, leaving Shinsou and Izuku waiting by the desk that Midnight was sitting on. She was watching the door, so they watched it too. Eventually, someone stepped inside. It was Eraserhead, who had been staring at the ground as he walked through the doorway, but now had raised his eyes to meet Shinsou’s and then Izuku’s.

He was wearing his hero costume as all U.A. teachers seemed to do, but it looked as though he’d just crawled out of bed. The left side of his shoulder-length hair was messier than the right. Had he been napping on that side?

“This is Mr. Aizawa,” Midnight said. “He’s Class 1-A’s homeroom teacher.”

Izuku supposed it made sense for Eraserhead — Mr. Aizawa — to go by his real name, unlike most of their other teachers. As an underground hero, it would be best not to blatantly reveal who he was. Though he didn’t seem to be going too far out of his way to hide his identity.

“Midoriya, Shinsou. Over the break, Classes 1-A and 1-B will be going on a week-long training camp to train their Quirks. If you two are serious about transferring, this will be your chance to prove it,” Mr. Aizawa said. He handed them each a sheet of paper. “Get one of your parents to sign these. And don’t fail your exams. If you do, you won’t be going.” He turned to the door. “That’s all I had to say.”

As he left, Shinsou and Izuku shared yet another look, though this one was far different from the first. Shinsou let the corners of his lips pull up after a moment of silence. Izuku soon did the same.

They had done it.

…

Chapter Text

The rest of the term flew by, with Shinsou and Izuku returning to their sparring sessions three days a week. They couldn’t do much else— their chance for more would come after their written finals.

Izuku started studying three weeks in advance, mostly on his own but occasionally with Shinsou. While he helped Shinsou in Japanese and English, Shinsou helped him with algebra. Their study sessions were few and far between, though. Both preferred studying alone.

Their Quirk studies exam, however, was more of a project. Each student was to pick a partner and analyze their Quirk, including possible uses in different career fields and hero work. It was Shinsou who had approached Izuku, who had been hoping they’d be partners but had been too nervous to ask. To distract himself from the knowledge that Shinsou would be analyzing his Quirk, Izuku planned to lose himself to the excitement of analyzing Shinsou’s Quirk. (Analyzing it more than he already had, that is.) So that was what he did.

He spent every day of their second-to-last week holed up in his bedroom, making steady progress on Shinsou’s abnormally long analysis sheet. It was structured like the pages in his hero analysis journals, with a messy sketch of Shinsou on the side, complete with a possible hero costume design. Under the sketch was an explanation for his choices. The design was minimalistic to fit the work of an underground hero, and it was fashioned after what he imagined Shinsou’s personal style was. Bulleted notes were scattered around the rest of the page, leaving no blank space.

It was his hero costume that was giving Izuku the most trouble. Its base was simple enough, but the support items that could prove useful were what took more thought. Mr. Tarumae hadn’t required that level of analysis, but Izuku was happy to use the project as an excuse to take a break from the rest of his studies. And, if he could think of something, it could potentially help Shinsou become a hero. Izuku needed to repay Shinsou for tolerating him.

At first, he thought of something simple. Like a speaker that could be secured around Shinsou’s neck to increase his vocal range. A ripoff of Present Mic’s directional speaker, really. But that idea was quickly scrapped, as Shinsou had explained that if his voice was altered by an electronic device, his Quirk wouldn’t activate.

His next thought was something that would do the same thing, only without turning his voice into an electronic signal. Was such a thing even possible? But it might be bulky, so unless it could be condensed into a mask that only covered his mouth, or served multiple purposes, it wouldn’t be worth wearing. Not when Shinsou needed to rely on close combat when his Quirk failed.

Or maybe not, if Izuku could think of a long-range support item. A bulky mask still wouldn’t be ideal, though. But that wasn’t his current concern.

What other purpose could the mask serve to make it useful enough to truly consider? If the device could alter his voice and make it louder, could it change it in another way? Making it quieter would be useless, he mused. But how else could a voice be modified?

Autotune?

And that was how he thought of a device that he dubbed “Artificial Vocal Cords.” As soon as he scribbled a dark shape onto his drawing, one that sort of resembled a mask, he called Shinsou. It was somewhat late, but he knew Shinsou would still be awake. And Shinsou wouldn’t pick up if he didn’t want to talk.

He picked up after a few rings. “What?”

Izuku grinned awkwardly, glad Shinsou couldn’t see him. Still, he could tell Shinsou wasn’t truly upset with him by the tone of his voice. That was why he preferred phone calls. Over text, Izuku couldn’t pinpoint someone’s emotions through their tone of voice, and it was already uncomfortable enough without the ability to analyze body language.

“Sorry… for, um, bothering you,” Izuku said.

Shinsou hummed for a split second, tone pitched down. Izuku translated that to, “Continue.”

“Well, I was taking some more notes about your Quirk for our project, and I thought of a support item. I have no idea if it’s possible, but if it is, I think it’ll let you trick people into responding to your questions. They’re like... artificial vocal cords, kind of— that’s a long name, though. I think it’d be a kind of mask that could change your voice to sound like someone else, like your opponent’s ally, for example. They’d be responding to you without even realizing. What do you think?”

“Thought of that before. Figured it’d be electronic.”

“Did you ever ask anyone if it was possible?”

Shinsou huffed.

“What if it is? I think if anyone would know, it’s Hatsume,” Izuku said. He shook his pencil back and forth between his index finger and thumb. “And she seemed really excited when I offered to go to her for any support items I might need in the future. I think she’d be happy to build it for you if she thought it was possible. It gives her an excuse to do what she loves.”

Shinsou hummed again. “Tomorrow.” He paused, and Izuku was about to accept that as his answer and awkwardly say goodbye when he continued, “Y’can transfer Quirks t’other people?”

Izuku stiffened. “I… don’t know. I’ve never tried to give someone else a Quirk.”

“Tomorrow,” Shinsou said. “Transfer your Quirk?”

“Have I ever... You want me to try to transfer my Quirk to someone else? Even… even if I could do that, I don’t think that’s a good idea… My Quirk’s not exactly something anyone else would wa—”

“Try on me.”

“I, um…” Izuku trailed off, cringing despite his best effort not to. He doubted he would ever need to transfer his Quirk to someone else, whether he wanted to or not, but knowing if it were possible couldn’t hurt. Well, not much. “...If you’re sure.”

“Permanent Quirk?” Shinsou asked.

Izuku fumbled with the pencil between his fingers before it slipped and clattered on the wooden floor. “I can’t take a permanent Quirk! Nobody would be willing to give their Quirk up.” And he wouldn’t be willing to take it.

“Servin’ life in prison.”

“Just because someone can’t use their Quirk ever again doesn’t mean I should steal it.”

Shinsou sighed.

Maybe calling Shinsou hadn’t been the best idea. But, Izuku would need to consider the idea eventually. And at least he could admit that it was better to ponder the idea in the safety of his bedroom, away from any prying eyes that could watch him hesitate. Away from Shinsou’s disapproving eyes, because Izuku was still reluctant to use his Quirk.

He glanced at his bottom drawer where his X-ACTO currently rested under a pile of his analysis notebooks, numbers one through seven. It was tempting to grab it, and he nearly reached to pull it open, but he couldn’t. Not when Shinsou was still on the phone. Not when he’d changed his gauze not two hours before. Instead, he dug his fingernails into his wrist, pressing harder and harder. Such a nominal amount of pain wouldn’t make him uncomfortable enough to be unable to speak properly. But it also wasn’t particularly satisfying.

“Better t’take a Quirk that was used t’hurt people. Repurpose it.”

How could Izuku take anyone’s Quirk permanently? No, he had told himself he would be better. Because he’d told Shinsou he would, because he’d criticized Todoroki, because he’d decided to. And Izuku refused to go back on his word, so he said, “I guess… if it was really necessary… I’d do it. If the person agreed! And I’d give it back if they wanted me to, and I’d have to make sure they really meant it. Because… what if they were afraid of me? What if they just gave me their Quirk because they were afraid of what I’d do?”

“‘Cause you’re terrifying.”

“I- Well, some… people think I am.”

“Who cares?”

Izuku pursed his lips. “I… do.”

“Don’t.”

“R- right...” Izuku said. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his second-favorite sweatshirt, which was designed to resemble Gang Orca’s hero costume. “That’s, um, easier said than done.”

“And?”

“And… I’ll try?”

“Good. ‘M going. G’night.”

“Goodnight.”

Shinsou hung up immediately, but Izuku had expected that. Still, it was somewhat disheartening to risk a phone call only to be done away with as quickly as possible. However, judging by Shinsou’s tone, their conversation hadn’t been entirely unwanted. And Shinsou could have asked his questions when they were sparring the next day to accomplish two goals at once— especially to stall for time when he needed a break, as his stamina had never been quite as good as Izuku’s. Yet he had asked Izuku over the phone.

Unless it truly wasn’t and Izuku’s analysis was entirely incorrect, which was what kept him from referring to Shinsou as his friend. Because what if Shinsou wasn’t his friend? And he only talked to him because he was afraid of Izuku, or because he felt obligated to in some way? But that didn’t make sense. Had he allied himself with Izuku in class to ensure his Quirk was never stolen? But he had offered it during the sports festival, and he wouldn’t have done such a thing if he didn’t expect it to be returned. He truly didn’t believe Izuku was a threat to him.

Logically, there was no real reason for Shinsou to tolerate him, other than the fact Izuku was a decent sparring partner. Unless Shinsou truly didn’t mind him in general, though that seemed… unlikely. But that had to be it.

Despite clearly irritating Shinsou on multiple occasions, Shinsou still put up with him. And, to think, Izuku’s goal had just been to make up for that, and he had only exacerbated the issue. What an idiot he was.

He glanced back at Shinsou’s Quirk analysis pages and folded them carefully, putting them back into a binder that then returned to his backpack. Already finished studying for the night, but with the schedule on his desk telling him he still had half an hour before he needed to go to sleep, Izuku turned to his trusted knife. It was all right— he had replenished his supply of bandages.

…

In the morning, he prepared for school as usual. Tying his tie incorrectly as always, heading out the door with every intention to learn more about his Quirk. As long as Shinsou and Korikyu were willing to help, of course.

Shinsou didn’t mention a permanent Quirk again, and Izuku couldn’t say he was bothered by that. In the end, what he had said the night before hadn’t been a lie. Taking a permanent Quirk would help him, because then he wouldn’t have to rely on biding his time until he could touch his opponent, because then he wouldn’t be fighting Quirkless if something prevented him from using Quirk Transfer. Then he’d be able to fight in any situation. Then he could save more lives.

Instead of mentioning a permanent Quirk, Shinsou spent the time after the final bell bullying Korikyu into walking over to Izuku’s desk. When Shinsou informed him of his plan, Korikyu looked over to Izuku for a translation with more words, which he gave. Korikyu shrugged, saying he was actually interested to see the outcome. He showed no sign of falsity. For that, Izuku was able to step forward and take Frost Breath from Korikyu, though still hesitantly. Then, he backed up. He put his hand on Shinsou’s wrist and imagined pushing Frost Breath into Shinsou’s skin. With no way to feel if he’d taken a Quirk or not, Izuku had to hope it had worked.

Shinsou let out a long breath that made Izuku and Korikyu shiver, visible as it shimmered under the ceiling lights.

“So you can give a Quirk to anyone. That’s kind of cool,” Korikyu said. Izuku gave him a strange look. He responded, “What? Think of how you could help people with that.”

“I… guess so,” Izuku said. “But I, uh, don’t know how many times there will be an opportunity to help someone by giving them a Quirk…”

Korikyu shrugged. “You never know. Now try giving me your Quirk. I want to know what having it is like.”

No, he didn’t want to know, Izuku thought. Judging by the look that flashed across Shinsou’s face, he was thinking something similar. But the additional meaning of that statement was not lost on Izuku either. His first thought was quickly replaced by another: if he wanted to use Izuku’s Quirk, did he not view it as villainous?

His tone implied that he was almost excited at the thought of using Quirk Transfer. But who wanted to be in possession of something that they were afraid of? Was he only excited because he knew it would be temporary? Or did he want it to keep it away from Izuku, to never give it back and save their classmates from the subtle fear they felt whenever Izuku was near them? But Korikyu wasn’t that kind of person, Izuku didn’t think. If he had expected Izuku to be a threat to him, why would he have let Izuku take his Quirk?

“Um, yeah… okay,” Izuku said.

As he reached over, Izuku hesitated. He knew he was only giving his Quirk to Korikyu for a few minutes — if he could even transfer his Quirk at all — but he didn’t want to give it away. How strange. Why would he want to keep the Quirk that he’d wished away every night for years?

With a hand that was just barely trembling, Izuku pressed his palm against Korikyu’s forearm, envisioning his Quirk moving into Korikyu’s skin. He took a step back afterwards. His hand tingled from the touch. It wasn’t as unpleasant to be the one touching someone as it was to be touched, but it wasn’t something he much liked. How could it be? He only ever touched someone to take their Quirk.

“Okay. I think... you can try to take your Quirk back from Shinsou now,” Izuku said. “Just imagine pulling Frost Breath back into your body through your hand.”

Korikyu nodded, then put his hand on the wrist Shinsou begrudgingly offered. He stepped back, hopped up to sit on the desk behind him, and breathed a short breath into his hand.

“Would you look at that. It works,” Korikyu said, chuckling. He flexed his hands. “I have too much power with this. This Quirk’s kind of scary.”

Izuku averted his eyes, though he kept them on Shinsou and Korikyu’s shoes.

“Like, scary in a ‘I could take over the world with this’ kind of way,” Korikyu clarified. “It’s good you have it, Midoriya.”

Izuku looked up. “How could... What?”

Korikyu shrugged. “I know some of our classmates are scared you’re gonna take their Quirks. If anyone else had your Quirk, I might be worried like they are. But I don’t think you’d ever do that.”

“Do you… really think so?” Izuku asked, though he knew the answer. Korikyu wasn’t lying, he could tell, but maybe he just wanted — needed — to hear those words again.

He reached back to let Korikyu put a hand on his arm when Korikyu leaned forward. After a moment, Korikyu leaned back, then hefted himself over the edge of the desk and back onto the floor. Straightening up, he walked over to Shinsou and tested to make sure he’d successfully returned Quirk Transfer to its owner.

“Why else would I say it?”

A little smile grew on Izuku’s face. Maybe there was something good that came out of him having his Quirk.

...

Chapter Text

The day of their final exams arrived, and Izuku left the classroom after the exhausting day feeling, well, exhausted. But he felt equally relieved, because his studying had paid off as well as he could have asked for. Shinsou seemed to feel similarly, and they spent the evening celebrating their assured spots in the hero course’s training camp.

With no cat café close enough to U.A. — which disappointed Shinsou more visibly than Izuku had ever seen before — they settled for a quaint bubble tea store nearby with one door in the front. It was the first time they had spent time together outside of school that wasn’t for training. It was the first time Izuku had spent time with anyone outside of school.

Surprisingly enough, Shinsou had been the one to suggest the outing. Of course, he’d suggested the cat café. Still, he didn’t seem too averse to spending time with Izuku in a place that wasn’t also filled with cats.

Strangely, Shinsou didn’t order anything coffee-related. Instead, he ordered something strawberry-flavored. Izuku went with a simple milk tea with as much sugar as he could reasonably get away with. Without Shinsou giving him a dirty look, at least. He’d still received one, but it wasn’t as harsh as it could have been.

They stayed inside, sipping on their drinks and talking under the fairy lights strung above their heads in dipping half-loops. Their conversation lasted until Izuku’s mother texted him to remind him to come home by dinnertime.

By the time they parted ways, Izuku had learned that Shinsou’s favorite pastime was watching poorly-rated movies to make fun of them. It was something he and his sister had grown up doing together— this was the first time Shinsou had mentioned having a sibling. But she had just started university. She was studying to become a psychiatrist, he had said. Whenever she came back from university to visit, he would show her whichever movie he’d found the most amusing. And then he would rewatch it with her. The picture of Shinsou and an equally tired-looking girl mocking movies in jaded, clipped sentences made Izuku laugh.

In turn, Izuku had hesitantly shared that his free time was mostly devoted to studying Pro Heroes and their Quirks. He spoke of his hero analysis journals that he’d been collecting for around five years. It was here that Shinsou asked why Izuku never mentioned them or brought one to school, and Izuku confessed that he saw them as training to become a hero. If he failed, if they never amounted to anything, he’d prefer not to have the added shame of having wasted his time for years broadcasted to others.

Shinsou disagreed with Izuku’s wish to keep them hidden. If it were him, he said, he wouldn’t think about anyone’s opinions but his own. If Izuku wanted to write his notes during the school day, he shouldn’t worry about anyone else asking what they were for. But, even if Izuku agreed, he wasn’t willing to put one of his notebooks at risk. He didn’t voice this, of course, because it wouldn’t do any good.

The subject was dropped when Izuku maneuvered their conversation away to admitting he’d had a great time. Shinsou snorted, but he reluctantly returned the sentiment after a moment. His discomfort at the admission was obvious with the hand that went to the back of his neck. It was caused by an inexperience with voicing his emotions, Izuku knew, so he appreciated the gesture all the more— because he couldn’t find a lie in Shinsou’s confession.

They parted ways on a different street than usual. With a wave goodbye, Izuku told Shinsou the next time they’d meet would be boarding the bus to the hero course’s training camp.

…

Chapter Text

If Izuku had to describe Class 1-A’s bus in one word, he’d choose chaotic, and it hadn’t even started moving yet.

Shinsou and Izuku stood side-by-side, staring down the aisle of the bus and at everyone already sitting in their seats. In the back, Uraraka and Glasses Boy sat in a seat designed to hold three people. When Uraraka saw him, she motioned for him to come sit beside her. Glancing at Shinsou to silently ask if Shinsou wanted to sit there instead, Shinsou just shrugged. He took a seat in the only other empty spot, which was beside Kaminari.

Izuku took his seat with a smile that was somewhat forced, but he couldn’t help it. Being in such a crowded and tight space — even with three exits — made his skin crawl.

Still, it could have been worse. Bakugou was sitting beside Kirishima up closer to the front of the bus, so once Izuku had taken a seat, a bit of the weight in his chest lessened.

They exchanged greetings, and Izuku learned that Glasses Boy’s name was Iida. The trio eventually devolved into chatter.

Not long after they lurched forward and began their journey, Izuku glanced toward the front of the bus. Shinsou had switched seats with Kaminari to lean his head against the window. That couldn’t be comfortable for napping. But, from the looks of it, Shinsou wasn’t getting much napping done anyway. Kaminari kept trying to talk to him.

The bus ride turned out to be about an hour, but there was never a dull moment during the trip. Shinsou convinced Kaminari to let him sleep in peace about halfway through it, somehow. Without Shinsou to bother, Kaminari suggested they play some music, only to be shot down by Iida (ironically) yelling at him to keep his voice down. He pouted for all of two seconds before turning to Kirishima and Sero, where they began a heated three-way game of what Uraraka called chopsticks. She seemed rather upset by the fact that he didn’t recognize it. Apparently it was the staple game of every student in their time.

Two seats behind them, Todoroki sat with Shiozaki. The pair might’ve been the only ones who weren’t talking on the entire bus. Besides Mr. Aizawa, of course, who looked ready to kill all of them from his seat at the front by the driver. But he wasn’t talking— just glaring back at them every few minutes. But, now that Izuku looked closer, Todoroki had managed to fall asleep sitting upright, and Shiozaki was busy staring out the window.

It was enviable, how Shinsou and Todoroki could sleep around so many people.

The bus eventually slowed to a stop, and Class 1-A filed out in no particular order. The lack of order seemed to upset Iida, which in turn greatly amused Uraraka. From the looks of it, their first stop was a lookout point that was nothing more than a place to pull off the road. Behind the metal guardrail was a steep drop into a forest below, which expanded out for as far as Izuku could see. A building sat nestled between the trees at the foot of a mountain in the distance, though Izuku couldn’t be sure what its purpose was. It didn’t look like a house.

Izuku watched from the corner of his eye as Bakugou wandered over to the right side of the group, and when he was occupied by Ashido talking to him, Izuku moved to the left side.

Shinsou stopped beside him, and Izuku asked, “Did you get some sleep?”

“If only,” Shinsou sighed. “Kaminari wanted my number.”

“Did you give it to him?”

“Don’t have a phone.”

Izuku frowned. “That’s what you said to him? But you had it in your hand when we got on the bus. You were listening to music right in front of him.”

“Yeah.”

Izuku couldn’t help but laugh. “What did he say?”

“Bought it.”

“He did?” Izuku asked. “And he never figured it out, either?”

Shinsou laughed.

Izuku’s attention was pulled away by the sound of two familiar voices, ones he certainly didn’t expect to hear. As expected, when he turned, there stood two members of the Wild, Wild Pussycats: Mandalay and Pixie-Bob. They were both in their hero costumes, Mandalay in the red and Pixie-Bob in the light blue version of their team’s matching outfits. Their headsets sat atop their heads, shaped like cat ears. Their mechanical tails swished behind them. Behind them stood a little boy around five or six years old. That was odd.

As much as he wanted to gush about the Pros to Shinsou, he couldn’t. Because, if the Pussycats were here and not wherever they would be staying, they must have something awful planned for the students. He was right. Mandalay announced that they would be staying in the building Izuku had noted before. Judging by the way a few members of Class 1-A started to scramble to get back on the bus, they were beginning to realize as well.

Mandalay and Pixie-Bob just laughed, the claws on their paw-shaped gloves glinting evilly in the sunlight.

As Kaminari and Lip Boy made it to the doors of the bus, the ground shook beneath their feet. With a groan, the cliff they’d been standing on gave way. Their group plummeted down to the forest below. The ground they landed on had been softened by Pixie-Bob’s Quirk to lessen the damage they took, if Izuku had to take a guess. It still hurt, though. Everyone picked themselves up with various degrees of complaining or cursing.

Izuku could hear Bakugou cursing Pixie-Bob rather loudly, and he couldn’t help but cringe. It was a tone he was familiar with, and even with Bakugou on the other side of their group, Izuku felt his heart rate spike.

From above, Mandalay instructed them to make it through the “Beast’s Forest” in three hours or less. Her voice was too cheerful for Izuku’s liking, as if she had some special Quirk ability up her sleeve.

As it turned out, she did. In the form of Pixie-Bob’s Quirk.

Something that could definitely be called a beast stomped its way out of the cover of the trees. It was modeled vaguely after a carnotaurus, identifiable by the signature horns sitting atop its head. (Izuku recognized it due to his research on a veteran Pro Hero whose Quirk allowed him to transform any metallic object into a robotic version of any dinosaur of his choosing.) It was literally made of earth, with its joints separated by fissures in the rock to allow for motion that was surprisingly flexible.

Rock-Head Boy ran towards the beast, shouting at it to calm down. In response, it lifted one powerful back leg and brought it down. Its claws were as long as Izuku was tall. Todoroki kept it from killing him, freezing its foot in a column of ice. It struggled, throwing its head back and opening its craggy maw. It made no sound. Thrashing, it tried to wriggle free, but the ice held strong.

Rock-Head Boy must have an animal-controlling Quirk. Or, at least, he could talk to animals. But the beast was made of rock, and Izuku doubted they would be seeing many real animals with the beast making so much noise.

Two more appeared out of the darkness. They loomed over everyone with bodies large enough to block out the little light from the sun that filtered through the leaves of the trees. Bakugou launched into action, destroying the one on the right. At the same time, Todoroki froze the other to the ground. Iida finished it off with a super-powered kick.

Briefly, Izuku wondered if Todoroki was still refusing to use his left side. Still, in the middle of a forest, fire wouldn’t be the most appropriate choice, so he couldn’t assume anything.

“Great,” Shinsou growled.

Izuku nodded. “If this is what we’ll be doing until we get there, we won’t be much help. Not only do we not have good Quirks for this, but our sparring practice really isn’t going to help here. I think it’d be best if we just stayed out of everyone’s way. Or be bait, maybe.”

Shinsou’s lip curled up.

They broke into a run, catching up with the bulk of the group and watching as they expertly took down beast after beast. On one side, Uraraka lifted a turtle-like monster into the air and dropped it. It hit the ground with a crash that shook the forest floor. Its body crumbled into a dozen pieces that Class 1-A easily cleared. Shinsou and Izuku had a bit more trouble. Bakugou took no time in destroying the other beast, this one shaped like a western-style dragon. Kaminari tried to use his Quirk, but ended up having to be carried by Lip Boy as he mumbled a garbled “whey.”

The class rushed through the trees. A few occasionally broke off from the group to attack any beasts that appeared. Shinsou and Izuku avoided the beasts as best they could, both essentially watching from the sidelines helplessly. Invisible Girl seemed to be in a similar situation at first, until she followed Ashido and Sparkle Boy to use herself as bait. She lured the beast — an ankylosaurus this time — into a clearing where Ashido could melt its leg. Sparkle Boy destroyed it with a laser that came from his stomach.

Neither Shinsou nor Izuku got the chance to use themselves as bait. Unless one counted the time where a beast targeted Izuku. It thundered after him, ducking under tree branches and winding around boulders as Izuku tried to lose it. He couldn’t outrun it. In the end, Iida had to save him with a kick powerful enough to send the beast flying. When it landed, he and Kirishima beat it into the ground until its rocky face collapsed into itself. As they jumped back up, Izuku thanked them. He then apologized, which they kindly tried to wave away.

“Look, you guys!” Kirishima shouted. He stopped to take a couple short breaths. “We’re getting close!”

Sure enough, in the distance, a large building was beginning to take shape behind the trees. Izuku sighed in relief. His chest ached with each breath he took. He couldn’t imagine how exhausted the others must be, considering they actually fought the earth beasts. To Izuku’s left, Shinsou looked seconds away from passing out. How much sleep had he gotten the night before? Izuku hadn’t gotten much himself, as it had been rather windy until four in the morning.

Which, of course, reminded him of how little sleep he’d probably be getting during the trip. But now wasn’t the time to think about that.

They walked the final stretch, too tired to move any faster. Izuku nearly tripped over an exposed root at least twice before they’d made it to the building. It was three stories tall, made of concrete, and complete with a symbol shaped like a cat’s pawprint centered on the entrance. Next to the entryway, a stray beam of sunlight lit up the start of a thin dirt path that cut into the wooded area to the right. By the time they dragged themselves to the clearing in front of the building, the sun was setting behind the mountain.

Could Izuku have been any more useless? Taking a deep breath, he resisted the urge to dig his nails into his skin.

Pixie-Bob, Mandalay, and Mr. Aizawa stood in front of the entrance. The little boy was also there, standing between the legs of the two members of the Pussycats. He was glaring at everyone, arms folded at his chest. What they had done to wrong him, Izuku couldn’t be sure.

Uraraka, Kirishima, Lip Boy, Sparkle Boy, and Tail Boy clambered as far as their legs could carry them and then promptly dropped to the ground.

“What do you mean, ‘three hours’?” Lip Boy groaned.

“That’s the time it would’ve taken us,” Pixie-Bob chirped, laughing behind her puffy gloves. “Sorry!”

She clearly wasn’t sorry. Judging from the looks on Mandalay and Mr. Aizawa’s faces, they too were more amused than apologetic.

“Honestly, I thought it would’ve taken you guys longer. You didn’t have as hard a time beating my earth beasts as I thought you would. I’m impressed,” she continued. “You guys are great. Especially you three.” She pointed to Bakugou, Todoroki, and Iida.

“Get your stuff off the bus,” Mr. Aizawa said. “Once you’ve put your bags in your rooms, you’ll have dinner in the common area. Girls on the second floor, boys on the third. Your rooms are the first doors on your left after taking the stairs. After dinner, you’ll bathe and go to sleep. We’ll start for real tomorrow.”

The group heaved a collective sigh, rested enough now to move but just barely. Izuku took one final deep breath before forcing himself to move back to the bus. Together with the others, he retrieved his bag from the bus, headed inside, and started off toward the third floor.

…

Chapter Text

With every step, Izuku’s dread grew. He checked for exits when they walked through the lobby. All he hoped was that it wasn’t obvious on his face. He’d stayed behind to ensure Bakugou was as far away from him as possible, as he was one of the first up the stairs and Izuku was the last. It did little to quell his apprehension, though.

The room they would be staying in was spacious. It had a tatami mat floor and two rows of futons that had been laid out in the middle, eleven futons in each row. Everyone but Shinsou and Izuku tossed their bags carelessly on the futons to claim their spots, then walked back down to the cafeteria. Shinsou and Izuku hung behind. Izuku gave Todoroki an awkward smile when he raised an eyebrow at them before leaving. The others had left two spots open at the far side of the room, and Shinsou and Izuku walked over to them slowly.

“Do you… think we can request for another room?”

Shinsou looked at him. “You?”

“I… have trouble staying asleep when it’s not completely silent,” Izuku said. Not the whole truth, but part of it was enough.

Shinsou clearly wanted to comment, but instead, he said, “We’ll ask.”

“Do… do you think they’ll think we’re being pretentious? Like… we’re too good to stay with the Class 1-A students?”

“Not with the truth.”

Izuku nodded, and Shinsou tossed his bag on one of the open futons. He hesitantly set his down on the other. As they started to head back down to the cafeteria, he prayed nobody would dig around in his bag. Because, at the bottom, covered by his sleeping clothes, stuffed in his first aid kit under a pack of bandages, was his X-ACTO knife. The thought of going a week without it had been too much.

He cast one last glance at the two futons. If they couldn’t get a separate room or two, at least Bakugou had chosen one of the futons closer to the other side.

The common area was one side of the building’s lobby, which had been converted into a makeshift dining area, with two long tables covered by white tablecloths. One table for Class 1-A and the other for Class 1-B. The four members of the Wild, Wild Pussycats sat around a circular table tucked into the corner of the room with Mr. Aizawa, Vlad King, and the little boy.

Shinsou and Izuku grabbed their plates and sat down. They sat beside Uraraka and Tsuyu, who Izuku quickly realized was Tongue Girl. She told him to call her Tsu. Though Izuku’s distance from Uraraka on the bench was obvious, nobody made a comment or seemed to mind, and even though the table knew about his Quirk, he sensed no animosity in their tone towards him. Therefore, Izuku attempted to contribute to the conversation. (Still only doing so when prompted by Uraraka or Tsu.)

Wherever there wasn’t a plate or bowl, there was a platter stacked high with food. Izuku refused to take any food until everyone else had retrieved what they wanted. He took whatever remained. There was so much, however, that he was still able to try everything that looked appetizing.

When everyone had settled into their places, Mandalay stood up from her seat at the table, her hand on the back of the little boy. She called for the students to quiet down. When they eventually did, she introduced the boy as Kota. He was her cousin’s child, and would be staying with them for the week, she said. Then she pushed on his back, and he stumbled forward a step, and she instructed him to introduce himself. Conceding after a few seconds of glaring, he did. He also included a, “I don’t intend to hang out with guys who want to become heroes!”

Izuku and Shinsou shared a look, as did most of the hero course students. Nobody said anything except Mandalay, who did so to scold Kota. When the moment was over, everyone turned back to their food.

But, after a moment, Izuku understood. One of Mandalay’s cousins had been a member of the two-hero team known as The Water Hose Heroes— Pros that had died in action the year before. They’d met a brutal end at the hands of Muscular, a villain with a Quirk called Muscle Augmentation. It let him gain strength by increasing the mass of his muscles to the point where they could break out of his skin. He’d escaped after the battle, a missing eye the only serious injury he’d walked away with. What he’d left behind was an orphaned child. The Water Hose Heroes had been married, and Kota was their son. Probably.

Izuku remembered the day they died. The news had appeared on the TV his mother had left on when he came home from school one day. He’d dog-eared the two pages dedicated to them in his hero analysis journal, which was always what he did whenever a Pro died, because he’d never had the strength to write deceased.

So Kota hated heroes because they risked their lives and sometimes didn’t come back with them. Therefore, what Kota needed was a hero to show him that they could be trusted, but Izuku didn’t know if he was capable of finding such a thing.

Izuku turned back to his food, which he’d been pushing around his plate as he thought. He glanced at Shinsou, who was giving him the look he always gave Izuku when he’d been mumbling incoherently. Ducking his head, Izuku apologized.

Shinsou stayed quiet throughout the meal, eating his rice and listening to everyone else talk, answering in less than five words or not at all. Eventually, everyone seemed to give up in attempting to include him. He seemed pleased with that.

When dinner drew to a close, everyone cleaned their plates and stacked them up on the counters in the kitchen, which was adjacent to the common area. Izuku kept his distance from Bakugou, who was making himself busy by yelling at Kirishima and Kaminari for not cleaning well enough.

As everyone disappeared out back, where the hot springs were waiting for their baths, Shinsou and Izuku stayed behind.

“I- um, excuse me, Mandalay?” Izuku asked, wanting to slap himself for how feeble his voice sounded. She tilted her head at him, silently asking him to continue. “Is there… is there any way Shinsou and I could sleep in different rooms than the others? We, well, we… we have trouble sleeping when—”

“Insomnia,” Shinsou supplied.

“Right,” Izuku continued, nodding. “We just- we want to use our time here properly, and train as much as we can, and prove we want to transfer... And I think it’d be harder if we didn’t get any rest, and I know that it sounds, well, like…”

“I understand, don’t worry. We do have a spare room you can use. The door to the left of the boys’ room is open. It’s a bit small, but I think it’ll do if it’s just the two of you. Is it all right if you two share a room? We would still like to keep the boys and girls on separate floors, if that’s okay.”

Izuku glanced at Shinsou, who shrugged. Though Izuku would prefer not to share a room with anyone, he supposed Shinsou was by far the lesser of many evils.

“Oh, yeah! Of course. Thank you.”

She nodded, giving him a small smile. As she turned away, so did Mr. Aizawa, who had been listening to their conversation. From the glimpse of his face that Izuku got before he followed Shinsou up the stairs, he would say the underground hero wasn’t upset.

They moved their belongings and futons to the other room, which was certainly smaller. It still had the same tatami mat flooring and single light in the center of the ceiling, though this one had a chabudai table in the middle. Otherwise, the room was bare.

Shinsou laid his futon out near the far left corner of the room, his head facing the wall rather than the one door. While Shinsou left some room between the futon and the wall, Izuku pressed his futon against the corner so that his feet would touch one wall and his back would touch the other. He laid his futon in the right corner of the room, close to the door.

“I’ll... catch up with you,” Izuku said when Shinsou started to leave. “I- um… I’ll use the hot springs after you guys are done.”

“Why?”

Izuku rubbed at his wrist, forcing down the urge to dig his fingernails into the soft flesh until it bruised and bled. “...One day. One day, I… I’ll tell you.” Whether he meant the burn scars or the other scars, he wasn’t exactly sure.

“I’ll be back last,” Shinsou said, and then he was gone.

I’ll be back last, so you’ll know when it’s safe to go down there, Izuku translated.

Chapter Text

Waking up before five in the morning was something Izuku tried to avoid, but it seemed like he’d be doing it often this week.

At least he’d been able to sleep as long as he could’ve hoped for. Luckily, Shinsou wasn’t one to snore. But he was one to toss and turn, so Izuku had woken up twice that night. Still, it was far better than what he could have gotten.

Class 1-B had disappeared after breakfast, leaving with Vlad King and Ragdoll, who was wearing the yellow version of the Pussycats’ costume. Class 1-A, along with Shinsou and Izuku, left afterwards, everyone yawning and blinking furiously and covering their yawns with their hands. The two Class 1-C students were one of the few who weren’t complaining about waking up so early.

Their group trekked through the grounds outside behind Mr. Aizawa, walking over rocky outcrops and through trees. They stopped on the top of a hill that opened up into a small patch of grass with no flora to obstruct the flat earth. On the other side was a dropoff, and out in the distance was more forest. The forest ended abruptly at the cliff where their bus had stopped the day before.

Here, Mr. Aizawa explained the reason for the training camp. It was to train their Quirks, which Izuku found obvious, and to train them for the provisional license exam, which Izuku found less obvious. He’d known it was quickly approaching, but he’d figured Shinsou and he wouldn’t be able to take it. They would probably have to wait until they were second-years— if they transferred.

“You all have definitely improved,” Mr. Aizawa said, “but that improvement has mainly been at the mental and technical levels, with some increase in stamina. Your Quirks themselves haven’t improved much. So, starting today, we’ll work on that. It’ll be so hard you’ll feel like dying, but try not to actually die.” He grinned wildly, all amusement at their expense. “It wouldn’t reflect well on the school, after all.”

Shinsou and Izuku waited patiently as Mr. Aizawa separated each Class 1-A student to work on their specific Quirk training.

Eventually, Mr. Aizawa circled back to them. “Now, it’s your turn,” he said. “Both of your Quirks require other people, but my students need to spend as much time as possible training their Quirks. They don’t have time to lose their Quirks or get brainwashed. So you two will be training during our lunch break.

“Midoriya, you’ll spend the break taking some of Class 1-A’s Quirks. Your goal for today is just to see how many you can use at one time and for how long. Shinsou, you’ll be with Class 1-B. Your sheet told me you can brainwash five people at one time. You’ll work on increasing that limit.

“Your job here is more to prove you have potential as a hero more than it is to train your Quirks. Still, I’m not going to let you sit around until lunchtime. Until then, you’ll be watching the other hero course students. Try to learn something from their specialized training, please,” he said, then sighed. “Unfortunately, we can’t have you do anything more than that until after you’ve tested your proper limits. But, once you’re done training your Quirks, you’ll be sparring Quirkless with Tiger.”

Shinsou and Izuku nodded, and then Aizawa was gone, off to supervise his students. They walked across the clearing where Class 1-A was training.

Farthest from them was Bakugou, who was alternating between plunging his hands into a barrel of water and releasing an explosion above his head. It wasn’t easy work, if his cursing and shaking arms were anything to go by. Each booming explosion made Izuku flinch, so he tried to distract himself with what everyone else was doing to train. His eyes still flicked back to Bakugou often to ensure he wasn’t looking their way.

Todoroki took up most of the space on the left end of the clearing, covering the rocky ground in ice and then fire and then ice again. So he would no longer be limiting himself. Izuku smiled. Using both sides, Todoroki would become a great hero. And, maybe, he would grow to see himself as his own person and not simply a product of his awful father.

Izuku stopped when Shinsou did, taking a seat between the exposed roots of the tree Shinsou had chosen for their place of rest. In the shade, the heat of the summer wasn’t quite so intense. Izuku pressed his back against the trunk of the tree. It took a while to find a position where the sun didn’t stab him in the eyes through the gaps between the leaves above him.

Izuku hadn’t brought his hero analysis journal with him. So he drew notes into the air with his index finger. Muttering under his breath as quietly as possible, he phrased his analysis so that each statement could be written as a bullet point. Even as he watched the hero course students, he kept an eye on the rest of his surroundings, taking note of the easiest escape routes if anything happened to go wrong.

Shinsou nodded off after an hour or so, and Izuku furiously mouthed his thoughts silently all the while. When Izuku could no longer think up any more analysis with ease, and Shinsou had woken up with a displeased groan after Bakugou let off a particularly nasty explosion, they moved to watch Class 1-B not too far away. Their process repeated until Mr. Aizawa strolled over to tell them to get lunch early.

At the group of picnic tables, Ragdoll handed them each a bowl of curry with a smile. She told them they were lucky. Indeed they were— on the long table beside the wooden picnic tables was an array of curry ingredients, all left untouched in woven baskets. Knives and mixing bowls and anything else that was needed to make the meal had been laid out as well.

“Sucks for them,” Shinsou said.

Izuku had to agree.

By the time Class 1-A and Class 1-B had prepared their meals and found a seat at the picnic tables, Izuku was as ready to go as he would ever be. He stood a little ways from Class 1-A’s tables. Mr. Aizawa stood next to him. Tomorrow, Mr. Aizawa had said, Shinsou and Izuku would switch, and Izuku would work with Class 1-B and Vlad King.

Mr. Aizawa motioned for him to start, and hesitantly, Izuku made his way over to Uraraka’s table, and where Bakugou was farthest away.

She waved as he approached. “Hey, Midoriya! Do you want to sit with us? There’s not much room, but maybe if we all scoot over…”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. But thank you! I’m actually… Well, I’m starting my training now.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“Mr. Aizawa said I need to figure out how many Quirks I can hold at one time, since I still don’t know,” Izuku explained, unhappily aware of the table’s newfound silence as they all listened to him. “So… I was hoping I could use your Quirk for a little while?”

“Sure!” she said, smiling. She lifted her arm up and presented it to him.

“I- I’m really sorry,” Izuku said, bowing instinctually. “But thank you!”

He took her Quirk and tested it out on her empty plate. It drifted into the air, wobbling as it floated higher and higher. He positioned his hands under it and tapped his fingertips together, catching it carefully when it fell. Although he could feel the eyes of every person at the table trained on him, when he glanced over, the girls looked curious. Not repulsed, or scared, or any other emotion he might have expected.

Ashido offered her Quirk without any direct prompting from Izuku, so he took it with a stunned expression, a tiny bow, and a stammered apology and thank you. Having someone offer their Quirk to him without asking was far from simply strange. Even his mother never offered unless he asked. Of course, he didn’t believe he’d ever said something to prompt her into offering, but still.

Nevertheless, the fact remained the same that having somebody offer made it slightly easier to use his Quirk. Even if he would have found a way to use his Quirk to train no matter what— he’d made a promise, after all.

‘No matter what’ meaning he’d do what it took to find someone who was willing to part with their Quirk for an hour or so, that is. Even if it meant going to Bakugou’s table. He would find a way to use his Quirk no matter what, as long as the person consented.

He stepped away from the table and let the acid drip down his fingers. When it hit the ground, it left smoking holes in the earth.

“How do you feel?” Mr. Aizawa asked, stepping up behind Izuku.

If his footsteps hadn’t been so loud — Mr. Aizawa had a tendency to drag his feet along the ground when he walked — Izuku would have been startled.

“I… I don’t feel much different than when I use one Quirk, and I haven’t had any trouble using just one.”

“Good. Now try another.”

Izuku did as he was told, receiving his next Quirk from Tsu, who offered it with a froggy smile. How it could be described as froggy, he wasn’t exactly sure. All he could say was that it was the same smile a frog would make.

Using a spare plate on the end of the table, Izuku tried to get it to stick to his fingers like he had seen Tsu do earlier while grabbing her plate. It was a success— it stuck to his fingers even when he held it upside down with nothing but his fingertips. As he put the plate back, he was hit with a sudden wave of drowsiness.

“I’m starting to feel pretty tired.”

“Can you keep going?”

Izuku nodded.

The picnic tables could comfortably sit four people, with two on each side, and the remaining member of this table was Kaminari. He offered his Quirk, but Izuku declined. Using it near the others probably wasn’t a good idea. Before Izuku could wave goodbye, Kaminari asked, “You’re not going to Bakugou’s table, are you? He doesn’t seem to like you much.”

Izuku stared at him. “I- um, I… No, I wasn’t going to…”

“What happened between you guys? Do you have some kind of dark backstory, like Bakugou killed someone, but now he’s mad you almost ratted him out? He seems like the type.”

“No, it’s… um, nothing like that, really… He just… He doesn’t like my Quirk.”

“Why? Don’t you guys barely know each other?”

“Well, no…” Izuku started. They clearly knew each other somehow, so what could Izuku say? “We’ve known… Well, we went to the same junior high, is all.” He glanced at each person’s face to find them either concerned or curious. “Well, I should get back to training. Don’t have long, you know?”

He scurried to Todoroki’s table, which was still far from Bakugou. Todoroki sat with Iida, Sparkle Boy — Aoyama — and Headphone Jack Girl— Jirou.

Todoroki offered his Quirk next, and Izuku apologized and thanked him. He held out his right hand to create a shard of ice in his palm. Stopping right after it had formed to save his energy, he tilted his hand and let the ice drop to the ground. His head was spinning now, and his body felt as heavy as the concrete walls that Cementoss could create when fighting villains. Izuku took a minute to lean on the table, focusing on the ache in his body. He willed it to disappear. (His joints were aching quite badly, but that wasn’t new. Just more painful than usual.) When the initial wave passed and vague dizziness was what remained, he told Mr. Aizawa what he was feeling.

Izuku had to convince the table that he could keep going before Jirou offered her Quirk. By the way she offered, though, she seemed hesitant. Not because she didn’t want her Quirk to be taken, as Izuku had thought at first, but because Izuku probably looked like death itself.

After tapping her arm, he felt his earlobes lengthen. It was a strange feeling, but it didn’t hurt.

And that was the last thing he felt.

…

Chapter Text

“Heard y’face-planted,” Shinsou said. “Wish I could’ve seen it.”

Izuku stared at him blearily, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as they adjusted to the lobby of the Wild, Wild Pussycats’ building. Other than Shinsou and Izuku, the room was empty, leaving the main exit (and entrance) open.

“Were you waiting for me to wake up so you could say that?”

“Yeah.”

At least Shinsou was honest, Izuku mused.

“Feeling?”

“Not too good,” Izuku said. His eyes widened. “Because I still have everyone’s Quirks! How long have I been out? Is lunch over? Have they gone back to training without their Quirks? Oh, no, what are they going to think?”

Izuku shot up and took a total of two steps before his knees nearly gave out, and Shinsou jumping in to support him was the only thing that kept him from repeating what he’d done to land himself on the couch in the first place. As soon as Izuku steadied himself, Shinsou let go. Izuku gave him a grateful smile.

“Ended fifteen.”

“Lunch ended fifteen minutes ago? What have they been doing?”

Shinsou shrugged, motioning towards the entrance and offering a hand out for Izuku to take if he needed to. Izuku shook his head, and Shinsou dropped it. Together, slowly, they walked back out to the training site where Class 1-A had returned to their exercises. With a string of apologies, Izuku went to each person and gave back his or her respective Quirk.

To his surprise, they all thanked him for giving them more time to recover from their morning training. They thanked him for using his Quirk on them.

With his mission completed, Izuku sat down under the same tree Shinsou and he had sat under earlier, unable to carry himself any farther. After ensuring Izuku wouldn’t pass out again, and after Izuku promised to join him when he felt better, Shinsou headed off to train with Tiger. Izuku felt somewhat guilty for that. But he also felt as though he’d collapse if he tried to stand again. He stayed under the shade of the tree, sitting and watching Shinsou’s back disappear. Leaning back against the rough trunk of the tree, he alternated between closing his eyes for as long as his body allowed before opening them again to check his surroundings.

Now that he’d rid his body of everyone’s Quirks, there wasn’t an added pressure that felt like it weighed down each cell in his body. After a while, Izuku felt his strength had returned somewhat. Complete recovery, on the other hand, would be a slow process. It was something he didn’t have time for. He didn’t have time to wait around every time he got injured, to tap out of a fight whenever his legs grew weak or his head started to spin. So as soon as his legs could hold his weight again, he’d get back up. He couldn’t become a hero if he wasn’t willing to push through a little bit of pain.

It was Mr. Aizawa who interrupted his thoughts. He stood in front of Izuku, looking down at him with a frown. What he was frowning for, Izuku wasn’t exactly sure. He hoped it wasn’t because he’d failed. Was his fainting enough to show he had no potential? Logically, he would say no. He was merely testing his limit, and now that he knew it, he could prove his potential by increasing the number of Quirks he could hold.

But what if his lack of knowledge about his own Quirk would be his downfall? Was it his reluctance to use his Quirk that kept him from proving himself worthy? He thought he’d been doing better.

“How are you feeling?”

Izuku squinted, the sunlight creating a bright halo around the teacher’s unkempt hair. “I, um… still… weak. But as soon as I can stand again, I’ll go train with Shinsou and Tiger. I just… need a few more minutes.”

“If you push yourself too hard, you’ll do more harm than good.”

Izuku hesitated. It made sense, but it was a funny jump from leaving his students desperate enough for a break to be thankful Izuku took their Quirks. But all it demonstrated was how Mr. Aizawa must have been keeping a close eye on them to ensure they didn’t overwork themselves too much.

“...I know.”

“Before you go to Tiger,” Mr. Aizawa started, “I’d like to ask you something.”

Izuku nodded slowly, waiting to hear a question he didn’t want to answer.

“You seem to know only the very basics of your Quirk. You know you can transfer Quirks to other people, not just yourself, and that you can transfer your own Quirk. But you’re trying to transfer, and you don’t even know how many Quirks you can hold at one time. Why is that?”

Was that answer not obvious, especially for Mr. Aizawa, for Eraserhead, the man with a Quirk that erases other Quirks? Well, from Mr. Aizawa’s expression, he already knew the answer and was simply waiting for Izuku to confirm his suspicions. Lying wouldn’t get Izuku anywhere, then.

He supposed he didn’t have much of a choice, so he choked out, “I don— I didn’t… Well, I don’t like using it. But I’ll use it when I need to! It’s just, well, it’s…”

“Villainous?” Mr. Aizawa finished. Izuku nodded. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re going to have to train your Quirk like hell if you want to become a hero. Learn about it as much as you can, whether you like it or not.”

“I know, sir.”

He sighed. “So you’ll use your Quirk when you feel like you have no other choice. Is that it?”

“I… Yes, sir. But I’m working on it. I know I can use it to save people, so I’m going to use it. I’m going to learn about it. I still… I still won’t use it if someone doesn’t want me to take their Quirk, but I will use it. I have to.”

“Even a villain?”

“N- no!” Izuku said hurriedly. “I meant… Class 1-A and Class 1-B and… allies. Not enemies. I know I can save people by taking villains’ Quirks, so… that’s what I’ll do.”

“Good,” Mr. Aizawa said. “Why do you want to become a hero?”

Izuku didn’t meet his eyes, instead staring at his scuffed shoes. “I… I want… to show the world that I’m not a villain. I want to prove, even with my Quirk, that I can be a hero. I don’t want to… scare anyone anymore.”

Mr. Aizawa huffed an amused but clearly disapproving laugh. “That might be possible, if you’d stop being so hypocritical.”

What?

Mr. Aizawa sighed. “No Quirk is villainous in nature. How can you prove that when you don’t believe it? Do you think you can convince people to believe something you don’t?”

“I—” Izuku cut himself off. “...I see.”

Izuku didn’t see, but that wasn’t the answer Mr. Aizawa wanted, so he wouldn’t give it to him. Though he understood what Mr. Aizawa meant, what the Pro didn’t understand was that Izuku needed to become a hero first. After all, how else could he prove that he wasn’t a villain?

“‘I see’ is right,” Mr. Aizawa said. “I think you can be a hero, Midoriya. You just have to show me you think you can too.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

Mr. Aizawa didn’t give Izuku time to dwell on his words. “Tomorrow, you’ll work on holding and using two Quirks at the same time. It took five Quirks to make you collapse, but you only used each for a few seconds. Otherwise, you just held them. So tomorrow you’ll see if you can use two Quirks at the same time, and for how long.”

Izuku nodded.

“Stay here until you’re feeling better. If you feel good enough, join Shinsou and Tiger. But don’t overwork yourself too much. Your goal is to learn about your Quirk and hopefully improve some, not kill yourself.”

He turned to leave, but Izuku stopped him by saying, “Oh- I, um, actually… could I train some more during dinner? If the people I ask agree?”

Mr. Aizawa raised an eyebrow, considering him. Then he broke into a grin, disconcerting but pleased. “I don’t see why not.”

After that, he was gone, back to supervising his homeroom class and occasionally scolding them for taking a break or not taking a break. Soon, the heat of the day was at its peak. Even the shade of the tree he was under could only do so much. Pretty soon, he was sweating. As exhausted as he still was, he felt about as good as he could expect after the day’s events. And, when he stood up, his legs could hold him. His body ached with a dull throb as he moved, but his head was clear and functioning properly again.

Even if he couldn’t fight Tiger for more than a few minutes before he lost the little energy he’d regained, the least he could do was watch Tiger’s moves and try to learn from observation. In fact, he should’ve thought of that sooner. How hard would it have been to drag himself over to where Shinsou and Tiger were?

When he trudged over the hill and peered down, he saw Shinsou lying on his back and Tiger leaning on a boulder to his right. Even with his paw-shaped gloves, cat ear-shaped headset, and matching brown outfit to his three teammates, he was still intimidating. He was watching the students of Class 1-A train, and when Izuku followed his gaze, he saw Iida sprinting past his classmates. That is, until he tripped over a sizable rock and was sent sprawling to the ground. Izuku winced, imagining the scrapes that would leave. Shinsou opened one eye and grinned at Iida’s misfortune. Iida picked himself back up and kept running.

“Feeling?” Shinsou asked when Izuku was close enough, looking up at him without moving from his spot on the ground.

“As good as I can be, I think,” Izuku said.

Shinsou took that answer without any visible sign he’d heard it.

“Ah, Midoriya,” Tiger said, mechanical tail swishing. “Ready to start your training?”

“I- um, yeah! I just… I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to fight, but I… I’ll do my best.”

Eventually, when Shinsou finally picked himself up off the ground, they began. And, just five or so minutes later, both Shinsou and Izuku collapsed on the ground.

Izuku’s body was screaming. Every muscle ached in a way he’d never quite felt before, even when Shinsou had spent an afternoon tossing him on the ground until his back went numb, and Izuku’s joints had already been aching before they had started. At least he had managed to drag himself out of the sun’s abuse and into the shade.

Now, Izuku didn’t like the pain for the pain itself, because nobody ever did, but he did like it. He liked it because it meant he was getting somewhere, because it meant he was actually, truly, finally, being given a chance. And he refused to waste such an opportunity now that he’d been given it, so he pulled himself back up to his feet and raised his fists, ready to continue.

Tiger seemed to like his spirit, because he grinned in the same menacing way he had before and copied Izuku’s stance. His stance was less lopsided, though, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Shinsou sighed and dragged himself up as well. Then they were off, splitting up to run at Tiger again. Blocking each of their punches and kicks took only the barest of movements from the Pro Hero, and it was why neither of them had been able to land a blow on him yet. But they kept trying, lunging, dodging, slipping, and counter-attacking.

After they’d been training for at least three hours and had already taken over a dozen breaks to recover, Izuku saw his chance. When Tiger blocked his left hook, Izuku latched onto his arm and pulled. In the second it took for Tiger to shake him off, Shinsou landed a solid jab to the Pro’s side. Izuku was thrown off. He stumbled back, but he still looked up and cheered when he’d regained his balance.

“A team effort! Very good,” Tiger said. “And it only took you nearly three and a half hours.”

The two groaned.

“But we’ve still got plenty of time. Let’s see if you can do that again.”

They didn’t manage to do it again. After Shinsou landed the first — and last — blow, Tiger evaded all their attacks expertly, much faster than before.

Until dinnertime rolled around, they alternated between sparring and taking breaks. (The majority of their time was spent on the latter.) Tiger didn’t seem to mind much, taking his time to tease them on their lack of success or help a couple of Class 1-B students with their own training.

Unlike lunch, they were tasked with preparing their own meal with Classes 1-A and 1-B. The pair helped cut vegetables. Izuku was careful to pick a spot far from Bakugou, who took his time to yell at anyone who wasn’t doing something properly.

Despite Bakugou’s instruction and Iida’s pep talks, the curry was bland at best. It had the vague aftertaste of toothpaste, but forty-two exhausted high school students weren’t the best cooks.

Izuku shoveled his food down as fast as he could, and when he emptied his bowl, he jumped to his feet. At first, he’d wanted to borrow Kirishima and Ashido’s Quirks. But both of them were sitting at Bakugou’s table, so he dismissed the idea. Therefore, his first stop was Kyarano’s table, which was one of the farthest from Bakugou’s.

Kyarano sat with her classmates on the other end of the collection of tables where the light that shone through the glass doors of the building’s entrance didn’t quite reach. Izuku hadn’t talked to her in a while, and he didn’t want her to think he was ignoring her by never approaching her. However, that implied she cared about his perception of her.

“Midoriya? I was wondering when you’d show up,” Kyarano said, leaning back on the wooden bench of the table. Her tail hung over the side of the bench, just barely grazing the ground. “Are you training again?”

Izuku was having a hard time avoiding the eyes of everyone else at the table, but he was managing. He could tell he looked like an idiot, though. “Oh- um, yeah, I am.”

“You want to borrow my Quirk?”

“Borrow” again.

“I- if that’s okay… yes.”

“I was hoping you’d ask. I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to have human hearing and sight. I hear it’s terrible,” she said, giving him a grin. She lifted her hand up with her elbow still on the table as if she were about to lazily ask a question in class.

To think not once, but twice, someone had told Izuku that, directly or indirectly, they were thankful for him taking their Quirk. Sure, it was because they wanted a break, and Kyarano wanted to know what it was like to live without her Quirk, but it was for a reason. That reason merely trumped their apprehension to have their Quirks taken, though.

It took an embarrassing amount of time for Izuku to take her Quirk, as he’d frozen when she’d said “I was hoping you’d ask.” Eventually, he toed off his shoes, took her Quirk, thanked her, and hurried away to find his next victim. Well, maybe not his next victim, but more… his next accomplice.

Searching for a few seconds, Izuku’s eyes landed on Todoroki, who was sitting at a table just beside Kyarano’s table. During lunchtime, Todoroki had offered his Quirk as soon as Izuku had explained his training. It made him think that, just maybe, Todoroki wasn’t mad at him. Todoroki hadn’t minded his presence, if the little smile he’d given Izuku at lunch was any indication. (It seemed appropriate for him— a bigger smile would’ve seemed strange.)

“H- hi, Todoroki.”

“Midoriya. Hello,” Todoroki said, his voice as monotone as ever.

“Hey, Midoriya!” Kaminari, who was sitting beside Todoroki, said. He was leaning heavily on Todoroki to see past him, to which Todoroki gave him a blank but subtly confused look.

Todoroki turned back to Izuku. “Do you need to borrow my Quirk again?”

“Oh, yes… Yeah. If that’s okay.”

“It is,” he said, lifting his arm up.

Izuku found it odd, watching people offer their arms to him to take their Quirks more easily. But he just thanked Todoroki and smiled, a tiny but distinctly warm feeling bubbling in his chest. Todoroki had used the word ‘borrow,’ not ‘take’ or ‘steal.’ Just like Shinsou tended to do, and just like Kyarano had just said.

He disappeared into the dark cover of the trees, hoping to find a clear area away from the others. The idea of the hero course students watching him train felt too exposing. He’d look foolish training next to them with all the training they’ve already done. Still, he didn’t go far, stopping at the first sign of flat ground that would be easy to find. After all, he didn’t want anyone thinking he’d run off with their Quirks. The place he chose was shielded by trees in all directions, where the ground was fairly flat and a boulder sat off to one side.

As he prepared to conjure up some ice in his now clawed, fur-covered hands, a bush rustled in the direction he’d come. His pointed ears twitched towards the noise, and his head followed right after. His heartbeat quickened as it always did when he heard a sudden noise. It was just a squirrel, which made eye contact with him for half a second before scrambling up the closest tree and out of sight. His hearing was certainly better now. It wasn’t much of a blessing, was it?

Huffing, Izuku turned back to the boulder. He’d been wise to take off his shoes earlier, he thought, as the claws on his feet gouged little marks in the dirt. He flexed his right hand and formed a ball of ice in his palm. Its shape was vaguely spherical but bumpy and jagged in places. (He briefly wondered if Todoroki had enough control to make a perfect sphere.)

His fingers wrapped around the ice, unable to feel the cold from underneath his thick fur. Curiosity told him to experiment with his grip strength. He closed his fingers around the ice and squeezed with all the strength he could muster. The ice cracked audibly, making the same sound that erupts when someone steps onto a frozen lake and the ice cracks under their weight but doesn’t break. The ball shattered in his grip.

Pleased with himself, his tail wagged without his command as he let the pieces fall between his fingers. Then he backed up, ready to try out one of Todoroki’s moves. But smaller, of course. So far, his body felt no different from before he’d taken Todoroki and Kyarano’s Quirks. All things considered, he felt good.

So he raised his hand and let the ice flow, limiting his output more than he thought necessary to ensure he didn’t go overboard. The ice crawled across the ground, sliding to the boulder but growing too slowly as it moved. It hit the boulder and crept up its side, stopping when it reached a third of the boulder’s height. But the ice stayed relatively flat, never growing into the talons of ice that Todoroki could produce. Was he too close to his target?

“It’s easier if you aim in front of your target,” Todoroki’s voice said.

Izuku snapped his head towards the sound, ears alert and a hand on his throat to feel his heartbeat. The fur on his hands kept him from feeling it. Todoroki brushed a branch away from his eyes as he stepped into the clearing, if one could call it that. It was better described as a bare patch, really.

“The ice takes time to grow. If you aim in front of your target, it’ll grow into what you want when it gets there. Not before.”

Izuku nodded, thanked him, and followed his directions. The ice grew as he’d hoped it would. His body was still functioning properly, although he might’ve felt a bit more tired than before. He didn’t mind, so he kept going until he dropped to his knees. From his side, he could hear Todoroki stiffly ask if he was all right. The question was awkward in the same way that Shinsou’s always were when Izuku collapsed during one of their sparring sessions when the pain of his cuts grew too great, or when the ache of his joints became too much to bear.

Izuku just laughed. He knew his face was dirty and bruised, but also bright, bright with the knowledge that he was finally doing something.

…

Chapter Text

Hitoshi’s head hurt. Like hell.

It was dinnertime, but it was definitely hotter than it had been at noon. Or maybe it was just the setting sun shining directly into his eyes through the trees. He’d been squinting for hours. His brows ached. His throat hurt too from talking so much. He hadn’t talked so much in years.

Yesterday, all he’d done was test how many people he could brainwash with 1-B. He’d improved from five to seven by the time they’d been shooed inside after dinner. Eraserhead had seemed impressed by that. Hitoshi wasn’t sure though. With that guy, it was hard to tell. But Hitoshi hoped he was impressed, because if he wasn’t, Hitoshi might have to kiss his self-esteem goodbye. Not really. But he was half-training under his favorite hero.

Today was when the fun’d started, because Eraserhead decided just letting his victims stand around wasn’t enough. Now he had to give them more complicated commands. It would’ve been funny to watch them walk in circles or lay face down in the dirt if it didn’t abuse his brain. But it did. So as he stood surrounded by seven dumbasses from 1-A, he clutched his head and tried not to puke. When’d he gotten nauseous?

Or was it nauseated? Didn’t matter. Nauseous had less syllables.

During lunch earlier, he’d managed to get two people out of six to walk in circles. He’d tried to add a third, but then his hold on them all broke. After that, he’d tried again. All he’d accomplished was puking in the trash can by the building’s entrance. Not a good look. But at least his hair stood up on its own; he didn’t have to hold it back. When he’d gargled and spit the last of the water he stole from Midoriya, he’d tried to start again. But apparently he’d had enough, since Eraserhead’d sent him away.

So he was training during dinner again. It’d been hard work convincing people to let him scramble their brains for half an hour. Even though he didn’t do that. He knew how his Quirk worked; it just made your mind go blank. He couldn’t see into someone’s mind with his Quirk. Even if he did, what would he see? Static? But they thought his Quirk was violating, so they made excuses.

On the first day, he’d wanted to just brainwash whoever and tell them ‘tough luck’ when he finished training. It would’ve been their fault for responding to him anyways. But Eraserhead might’ve thought that wasn’t heroic.

But nobody was willing to help him except for Kaminari. He appreciated that, he guessed. It was because the guy clearly had a thing for him, which was irritating. What did the idiot see in a guy with a “villainous” Quirk and eye bags as dark as his future dirty gravestone? Especially when he’d known Hitoshi for barely three days. Hitoshi wouldn’t say he had any charm that could be blamed for Kaminari’s… affliction.

His crush did make him useful though. Hitoshi hadn’t missed the opportunity.

For the other six, Hitoshi’d given up as soon as Eraserhead’d told him to hurry up. Playing nice’d never got him far anyways. And if Eraserhead was going to like him, it’d be for him. No changes.

He’d brainwashed the gravity girl and the engine boy, who’d been sitting with him and Midoriya at the start of dinner. Then he’d walked up to the closest table and brainwashed the four there. It’d taken a while to get them to move since he’d had to command them one at a time to walk. Which was almost training enough. But that only gave him a slight headache. Eraserhead preferred when he thought his head was about to split open. A real caring teacher. But still a badass hero.

But Hitoshi wanted to get stronger. He’d do what it took to get there. Midoriya pushed himself hard enough to pass out. Hit the ground on his face, then dusted himself off and started again. Hitoshi wasn’t going to lose to that.

Hopefully puking matched up evenly to a nice nose dive. Wouldn’t want Eraserhead thinking Midoriya was working harder than him.

Around him, the invisible girl, the guy obsessed with sparkles, and the guy with tape in his arms were wandering back and forth under Hitoshi’s control. He should probably learn their names sometime. Anyways. When the first was about to smack into a tree, Hitoshi took mercy and told her to stop. A bolt of pain shot through his brain. He wrinkled his nose and forced his Quirk to stay activated.

“Can you add another?” Eraserhead asked.

Hitoshi nodded, then turned to Kaminari. “Walk in circles.”

Kaminari obeyed, eyes pale. He took a step, then two. On the third, Hitoshi lost his hold. In an instant, everyone blinked back to consciousness. Hitoshi’s knees hit the ground. He held his head in his hands, applying some pressure to ease the pain. His stomach flipped. He breathed through his mouth to settle it. Afraid he’d vomit again if he stood up, he sat back and crossed his legs.

“Not bad,” Eraserhead said. “Yesterday, your best was controlling two for a minute and three seconds. Today, it was three for one minute and five seconds.”

Before Hitoshi could respond, Kaminari was at his side.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

He put a hand on Hitoshi’s shoulder. And missed the way Hitoshi glared at him, apparently. Hitoshi made a move to shake off his hand, but it stayed. Kaminari sure was lucky Hitoshi’s head hurt too much to brainwash him.

“‘M fine.”

“What hurts?”

Hitoshi gave him a look. What the hell did he think was hurting? What was really hurting was Hitoshi’s brain from having to listen to Kaminari speak.

“Is it your head?”

Dear God.

“Kaminari, give him some room,” Eraserhead said. Hitoshi silently thanked him as Kaminari backed off. “That’s it for tonight.” Another silent thanks.

Eraserhead turned to leave, but Hitoshi stopped him with, “I want t’learn how t’use a binding cloth.” He wouldn’t go into any further detail. He didn’t need to. His reason for wanting to learn it was basically the same as Eraserhead’s.

The length of time that Eraserhead spent staring at him was uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. Was this how people felt talking to Hitoshi? Or trying to talk to him, at least. He held in a snort. Sucked for them.

Finally, Eraserhead narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you willing to put in the work?”

“Wouldn’t’ve asked otherwise.”

Grinning evilly, Eraserhead said, “Good. We’ll start next week, then.” And then he left. Probably to go yell at Midoriya for overworking himself.

Score for Hitoshi.

“Can you stand?” Kaminari asked.

He was still here?

The feeling of his skull cracking into a dozen pieces had gotten weaker. Only felt like two pieces now. And his stomach didn’t act like it wanted to escape through his throat anymore. Good enough for him. Hitoshi sighed, picking himself up off the ground. Was that enough of an answer?

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He was learning. How cute.

Hitoshi started walking, stifling a groan when he heard Kaminari scamper up behind him.

“You know, even though you look like you’re about to barf,” Kaminari started, “you still have your looks. You must be pretty popular with the ladies. Am I right?”

Hitoshi stared at him. “Thankfully, no.”

Kaminari tilted his head at him like a puppy. His eyes were glittering like a dog with a bone too. Gross. Hitoshi preferred cats. They were cute little assholes, and he loved them.

“Does that mean I have a chance?”

Hitoshi made a point to look him up and down just for fun. Then he said simply, “No.”

Kaminari stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “You’re not even giving me a chance. There’s more to me than meets the eye, you know. I don’t just have shocking good looks.”

Hitoshi wasn’t sure which he should address first. The pun or the fact that Kaminari’d completely ignored Hitoshi pretending to check him out before saying no. Could he choose neither? He’d rather not waste his breath.

“And I know there’s more to you, too. What’s under that I-hate-everyone persona?” Kaminari asked, keeping up with Hitoshi even when he sped up. “You don’t actually hate everyone, do you? You are trying to become a hero.”

Hitoshi scowled and picked up his pace even more.

As he race-walked, he kept an eye out for Midoriya. Midoriya should be able to get rid of Kaminari; they both had a bad habit of talking too much. But Midoriya’s was worse.

…

Chapter Text

Izuku could tell that Shinsou was walking slower than usual to stall for time, but he couldn’t say he wanted to spar with Tiger with the way his entire body still ached from the previous two days of training, so he matched Shinsou’s pace without complaint.

When they walked by the clearing where Class 1-A was setting up to begin their training for the day, however, they sped up. Well, Izuku was going to stroll by Bakugou and hope he didn’t spot them. But Shinsou quickened his long strides. Izuku had to skip forward a few steps to catch up. After they’d gone a safe distance from Bakugou, they slowed again. Izuku gave Shinsou a smile.

Around them, if one could ignore Kaminari and Sero already complaining before the day of training had even begun, they would be able to hear the birds of the forest chirping. Their songs were barely audible, but they were there. Still, there was silence between Shinsou and Izuku, so Izuku filled it with a summary of his training progress. They’d both been too tired to talk about their training the night before. Especially after Izuku had noticed Shinsou’s plea for help and had had to talk with Kaminari for a while before he finally returned to his room.

The day before, he’d discovered that his time limit for using two Quirks differed depending on the kind of Quirks he was using. As it turned out, using two Quirks of the same type drained his energy much quicker than using two of a different type. He’d discovered this while testing his limits with Tetsutetsu and Kendou’s Quirks. Both of which were transformation-types. He had tired out much quicker than their first true day of training, when he’d used Todoroki’s emitter-type with Kyarano’s mutant-type. His next trials with Kyarano and Sero’s Quirks yielded the same results.

As he explained what he’d done in more detail, Shinsou hummed when Izuku’s words called for it. He let Izuku talk as much as he wanted. For a moment, Izuku hesitated, afraid he was irritating Shinsou, but then Shinsou gave him an expectant look when he trailed off. So he started up again. His hands emphasized his point as he described how strange the feeling of his skin growing and turning to steel was.

They’d finally reached their training site with Tiger, who sat on the boulder that bordered their spot. He saw them coming and pounded his fists together, his gloves muffling the sound. His grin was far more intimidating than it was welcoming.

Izuku reached Tiger first. He was ready to leave with a dozen new bruises littering his body if it meant he could improve, even if just a little. And that he did, but by the time Shinsou and he had to trudge back to the camp to grab their lunches, they’d managed to touch Tiger again. Not once but twice.

Making lunch took longer than the day before for the hero course students, everyone too exhausted to make a real effort. Well, Bakugou still worked at the same pace, and he seemed just as willing to yell at the others as ever.

Shinsou and Izuku prepared their lunch before Classes 1-A and 1-B even arrived. They ate sitting beside each other under the tree they’d claimed as their own. In the distance, on the start of the little path Izuku had noticed on the day they’d arrived, Kota watched them eat. He stood with his arms crossed, glaring with all his might.

When their eyes met, Kota jerked his head away and stormed up the dirt path. It was sandwiched between the cluster of trees off to the left side of the building, nothing more than a worn path where no grass grew anymore. Where it led to, Izuku hadn’t checked, but he’d seen Kota use it three times now.

As Kota’s bright red hat faded into the darkness of the trees, Mandalay stuck her head out, eyes searching for him. She called for him to come pick up some food. But he’d already left, and Izuku doubted that they would see him return for a while. If Izuku thought Kota would accept it, he would’ve taken the boy some rice. But, in Kota’s eyes, he was even worse than the hero course students. After all, he wanted to transfer despite getting into the general course. Despite the villain attack on the USJ that could’ve killed members of one of the classes he wanted to be a part of.

Izuku still hadn’t come up with a way to show Kota that heroes weren’t his enemies. It would be incredibly difficult, considering he seemed quite close to Mandalay. And he was spending so much time with the Wild, Wild Pussycats— Pro Heroes who’ve faced countless villains and lived to tell the tale. If Mandalay and the others couldn’t convince him, who could?

If Izuku tried to reason with him, telling him his hatred of heroes was unfounded or unfair, he’d be kidding himself. Izuku had no room to talk. He was the one who refused to use his Quirk until Shinsou had argued some sense into him. Sure, he liked to think he was doing better now, but he just didn’t have time to support his arguments.

What Kota needed was a hero to face a seemingly undefeatable villain and come out of the fight alive and well. But All Might had done that myriad times in the past, even after the Water Hose Heroes died, and Kota’s attitude remained unchanged. (He had gone to Mandalay the day before and confirmed that the Water Hose Heroes were indeed Kota’s parents. And that he had started hating heroes only after they’d died.) No, what Kota needed was a hero close to him to fight an undefeatable villain and return. He needed to see it, too, because without seeing it firsthand, he could convince himself the villain wasn’t on par with Muscular.

He needed a hero to prove that some heroes gave up their lives on duty, that some heroes departed from the world because a villain was stronger. But they didn’t abandon anyone. Becoming a hero wasn’t wishing one’s life away, or admitting that they didn’t mind abandoning their loved ones. Becoming a hero was the desire to save lives, to help those in need, to protect loved ones.

And Izuku truly doubted he could be the one to change Kota’s mind. Words would only hurt him more. And those were all Izuku had.

So he didn’t follow Kota up to wherever he kept disappearing to. Instead, he turned back to his food so he could have more time to train. He finished before Shinsou did, telling him goodbye before he headed inside to clean his plate. He always finished before Shinsou— Shinsou couldn’t start his training until after the hero course students had eaten. (Mr. Aizawa had said brainwashing someone to eat could be a choking hazard.)

So, as the hero course students finished up their cooking and plopped down at the picnic tables with tired arms and a flurry of complaints, Izuku searched for two students who wouldn’t mind giving up their Quirks for an hour. In the end, he chose Jirou and Ashido. He thanked them when they offered their wrists. It was a slight struggle to take Ashido’s Quirk, as he apparently couldn’t take her Quirk through her acid, and she’d demonstrated a new trick she’d learned with her Quirk to Jirou just seconds before he arrived.

Izuku found himself back in the tiny clearing he had used to test Todoroki and Kyarano’s Quirks, his skin prickling at the feeling of Mr. Aizawa watching him. The Pro Hero was leaning against a tree, watching him with his arms crossed over his chest and his tangled black hair tumbling over his shoulders. Even with his arms crossed, he held his phone in one hand. His thumb almost pressed the screen, which Izuku assumed had the button to start a timer on it. When Izuku glanced at him, he nodded, a silent signal to start training.

Just like before, a combination of an emitter-type Quirk and a mutant-type Quirk was easier to manage than two of the same. Maybe because mutant-type Quirks didn’t need to be turned off and on and were therefore less draining? The next day, he would test his theory with an emitter-type and a transformation-type Quirk to see whether those would sap his energy more quickly or not. (He would test it during dinner, but apparently he wouldn’t be able to train then. Some exercise designed to let everyone have some fun, apparently.)

He carefully controlled the acid he was producing, letting it seep from the pores in his hands and forearms. It flowed between his fingers or down the sides of his arms. The droplets hit the ground and sizzled and steamed as they gouged holes in the rock. As he focused part of his mind on keeping the acid flowing, he stretched his earlobes-turned-earphone jacks out until they circled around his arms, leaving space between the skin so that they wouldn’t touch the acid.

“Midoriya,” Mr. Aizawa said.

“Yes, sir?”

“Shinsou mentioned that he’d suggested you get a permanent Quirk before exams started,” the teacher said. Shinsou and Mr. Aizawa had been talking about him? Izuku wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. “What do you think about getting one?”

Izuku thought for a moment. “I- well, um... won’t take one by force. But… I will if the person agrees to let me have it. I think finding someone who’d be willing to do it would be the hard part.”

“Your best bet would be someone in prison. Death row, probably. Either that or retired Pro Heroes.”

“If they agree,” Izuku said.

“Personally, I don’t see why it matters if they agree or not. They couldn’t use their Quirk again anyway,” Mr. Aizawa said. “As for retired Pros, I don’t see why they wouldn’t agree.”

“I just—”

“But if the person agreed, you would do it?”

“...As long as they were telling the truth,” Izuku said.

The ghost of an amused smile pulled at Mr. Aizawa’s lips, but then it was gone. “What will you do if you can’t become a hero?”

The thought shook Izuku to his core. He’d never earnestly contemplated the question. Not since starting at U.A. Before he had met All Might, he had assumed he would settle for a career as a Quirk analyst that specialized in breaking down villains’ Quirks, because at least then he could still aid Pro Heroes and hopefully prove himself trustworthy and heroic. But that wouldn’t allow him to help in the way he would truly like to. Could he truly hope becoming a Quirk analyst would prove he wasn’t a villain? Or would he merely be a villain who used Pros to bring down his competition, operating in the shadows in his downtime?

Izuku needed to prove he wasn’t a villain— becoming a Pro Hero was not only the obvious choice but the one most likely to succeed.

So he told Mr. Aizawa the truth, even if the teacher was hoping he’d have some sort of backup plan. “I… I don’t know. Becoming a hero… it’s all I really want. And since you’re giving me a chance... Now more than ever.”

Mr. Aizawa seemed to accept his answer, thankfully. He motioned for Izuku to get back to training. So, turning his attention back to his hands to keep from overthinking the lack of response, Izuku started up again, acid pooling in his palms and overflowing over the sides of his callused hands. As he kept the acid flowing, he drove his earphone jacks into the ground with a quick strike. The sounds of the acid dripping onto the rock and corroding it were sharp and loud in his ears, which were now essentially plugged into the dry, hard dirt.

To his delight, even as he paid more attention to his earphone jacks, the acid continued to flow at the same rate as before. It never once increased or decreased without his permission.

This pattern continued until his eyelids grew heavy and he slumped forward, mirroring what Shinsou did when he fell asleep in class and jerked awake before he hit his head on his desk. That wasn’t something exclusive to Shinsou, but he sure did it often. Midnight and Ectoplasm had slowly gone from irritated to concerned about how frequently he did it. He usually planned which classes he would fall asleep in, though.

With that, Mr. Aizawa called for the end of his training. Izuku stood up, and as he did, Mr. Aizawa presented his phone screen. While Izuku didn’t know how long he’d been able to use Todoroki and Kyarano’s Quirks together, he’d assumed it was around fifteen minutes. With Kendou and Tetsutetsu’s Quirks, he’d lasted eleven minutes, and with Kyarano and Sero’s Quirks, he’d lasted about twelve and a half. With Ashido and Jirou’s Quirks, he managed nineteen minutes. Which was quite impressive, considering just how awful he was feeling from aching just about everywhere and felt seconds away from falling asleep.

Essentially, what Izuku had learned was: two Quirks of the same type took more energy to use together, and two Quirks of different types were far easier to control and maintain.

Afterwards, it was back to Tiger’s bootcamp, and Shinsou met him at their training site.

Tiger allowed them more breaks than the number they’d grown used to, which Izuku appreciated more than words could say. His appreciation, however, was counterpoised and possibly overcome by the stress that came with taking a break when he could be working.

They managed to tag Tiger again, and he rewarded them by sending them off to dinner an hour early. Which, in the end, was the best reward he could give them, because they both spent it in their shared room, sleeping some of their pain away. Both had been tired enough to sleep through the hour without waking once.

When they made their way back outside, it was to hear their plans for the night. Pixie-Bob told them about what they’d be doing right after their shorter dinner period— a test of courage.

She’d made it seem like an exciting break from training, but Izuku doubted it would be. Was it so difficult for them to just give everyone some downtime? Let Izuku analyze some of his peers’ Quirks in more depth than he already had so he could feel productive?

He supposed the exercise would also serve as a chance for everyone to find new uses for their Quirks, but Izuku was certain his would be useless. Unless he wanted to threaten someone with stealing their Quirk and never giving it back, which was something he absolutely was not going to do. Maybe he could just ask Shinsou to brainwash him into acting like a zombie?

When it was time to make dinner, Izuku moved far away from where the meat was being cooked, and Shinsou followed wordlessly. The smell of smoke from the grills was too much for Izuku. (So was the smell of burnt sugar, as the stench of the burning nitroglycerin-like sweat that Bakugou’s hands produced had an incredibly similar smell. It was why he conveniently had something urgent to do when his mother set out to make a dessert for some special occasion, just in case.)

Tonight, Bakugou was helping cook the beef, so Izuku and Shinsou were on knife duty. Izuku deftly chopped every vegetable that came his way, the knife fitting securely in his palm. Holding it brought a sense of control he wasn’t proud of.

As they worked, Izuku saw Kota heading back up the dirt path, hands stuffed in his pockets and his back hunched, obviously upset. Had the mere presence of the hero course students angered him? Izuku didn’t see Mandalay around, and she was the one who also had a tendency to upset him whenever she asked him to help her with a task.

When they’d finished preparing their dinner, Izuku took a seat beside Shinsou. As soon as he sat down, Shinsou slid over, putting as much space between them as he reasonably could without falling off the bench. Izuku smiled at him, and Shinsou nodded.

On the other side of them were Uraraka and Todoroki. With both Shinsou and Todoroki at the table, the conversation was half nods or hums, but Uraraka didn’t seem to mind, and Izuku didn’t either. When Izuku asked about their training, Uraraka explained how she had been improving, which Izuku nodded along to intently.

After she had finished her explanation, she returned the question to both Izuku and Shinsou. Izuku’s answer was much the same as the one he’d given Shinsou that morning, only with the added analysis of what he’d learned during lunch. He tried to keep it brief, since he doubted anyone wanted to hear much about himself, even if her tone had implied curiosity rather than obligation.

Shinsou went next, mentioning in the shortest way possible that he’d managed to go from controlling two people’s actions for a couple minutes to three for nearly double that time. As he spoke, Kaminari greeted him, then headed to the food station to prepare a meal for himself. Shinsou gave him a dirty look that he didn’t see, as he had already walked away.

When dinner drew to a close, their four-person group made their way over to a clearing on the other side of the Pussycats’ building, beyond the hot springs. Unlike the clearing that was designated for Class 1-A’s training, this one was surrounded on all sides by trees. It was completely hidden. The only reason they’d been able to find it was because of Pixie-Bob and Mandalay and Tiger leading the way. There was no path to it.

But there were two paths on the far side, these wide and made deliberately, unlike the one Kota used. Kota’s was more of a path created by someone walking the same way so many times that the vegetation had been worn down to nothing but dry dirt. These dirt, however, were wide enough to be a single-lane road and clearly maintained. The branches of the trees bordering them had been cut at their bases so that they wouldn’t hang low over the paths. They weren’t lit, however. Izuku couldn’t see much more than the first few meters of each. The dim light from the half-moon peeking over the treeline didn’t do much for visibility.

So their test of courage would be taking place on this path. (He assumed one was the start and one was the end of a single looping trail. It made more sense.)

Looking at them, Izuku frowned. Should he ask Mr. Aizawa if he could sit in with the five Class 1-A students and the one Class 1-B student who’d be attending supplemental classes instead of participating in the test of courage? He would much rather learn about strategies when facing villains than have to scare people or be scared by other people.

“All right, everyone! Listen up,” Pixie-Bob said. “Class 1-B will be scaring Class 1-A first, so 1-B, you can start heading out in a minute. The path loops around, but 1-A will be starting on the right one. The rules are simple: stay on the path and don’t hurt anyone with your Quirks. You’re encouraged to use your Quirks to scare people, though!

“You’ll draw lots from this box,” she continued, holding up the box in her hands, “which will put you into pairs. One pair will leave every five minutes. You’ll start on the right side of the path and follow it until you make it back here. Midoriya, you’ll be with Class 1-A, and Shinsou, you’ll be with Class 1-B, since each group has an odd number without you.”

She then shooed Class 1-B off, and they, in varying degrees of excitement, followed her instructions.

Izuku’s shoulders dropped, accepting his defeat. If he didn’t participate, someone might have to go alone. And although he doubted he’d be a desired partner for anyone, his presence would probably be better than nothing. Walking alone during a test of courage couldn’t possibly be fun.

Shinsou left after giving Izuku a look that was often his version of a goodbye. There was a gleam in his eye and a smirk on his lips that Izuku saw whenever he was planning on messing with somebody.

The last time he’d seen that look, Shinsou had been in the process of convincing Korikyu that he had fallen asleep in algebra and had missed them learning about integrals, which would be on the quiz they would have the next day. (They had not, in fact, learned about integrals. Nor was there a quiz the next day.) He’d almost gotten away with it, too. Until Korikyu had gone to Ectoplasm to confirm. In response, Shinsou had dragged a finger across his throat to make clear Korikyu’s future retribution.

Pixie-Bob shoved her gloved hand under Izuku’s nose. He had seen her coming, so his flinch backwards wasn’t so noticeable. She didn’t seem to notice, at least. With a twisted look on his face, he drew one of the lots. On the little slip of paper was a bold 8.

Izuku moved to start searching for his partner, but someone approached him from behind. Before he could turn, there was a hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t help the violent jerk of his arm he gave to escape the touch. Turning, he caught a glimpse of Tail Boy — Ojiro — pulling his hand away like someone had slapped it.

“I- I’m so sorry,” Izuku hurried. “I- uh, well… I just… don’t react well to being touched suddenly. I’m sorry. Really.”

Ojiro waved his arms in front of him. “No, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. I should be the one saying sorry.”

Izuku gave him a shaky smile. “No, no, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” he said, then made a face when he realized how little sense that made. Ojiro clearly realized it too, but he said nothing, thankfully. “Are you… are you my partner?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Ojiro said, presenting his slip of paper to Izuku. “Number eight, right?”

“Right.”

They devolved into a rather uncomfortable silence, so Izuku attempted to distract himself by watching Ojiro from the corner of his eye. He had cropped and pale blond hair, eyes that seemed permanently half-lidded, and the kind of smile that didn’t take up much of his face but was always genuine.

At the start of the path, Shoji and Tokoyami had already vanished. Todoroki and Bakugou were waiting for Pixie-Bob to give them the signal to leave. After another minute, she motioned to them to move, and they started off. Todoroki didn’t seem uncomfortable judging by his posture and expression, but Bakugou sure did, the scowl on his face visible even when he was mostly turned away from Izuku’s direction. Izuku wished he had Todoroki’s ability to remain unaffected when Bakugou stood a meter from his side.

“I guess we’ll be waiting for a while, huh?” Ojiro said.

“Oh- yeah,” Izuku said. The awkwardness was making him tense, so Izuku continued, “I wonder how long the trail is.”

“I’m not sure. It’d be hard enough to tell in the daytime. But maybe…”

Izuku frowned, turning away from Ojiro — but keeping him in his peripheral vision — to sniff the air. There was the faint stench of smoke wafting downwind, hauntingly familiar but not overwhelmingly powerful like it had been in the past. Still, Izuku wasn’t exactly fond of the smell.

But there was no reason for there to be fire anywhere in the area. The fire to cook the beef for their dinner had been put out an hour or so ago, and the lingering smoke had been cleared by the evening breeze. And they were upwind from the Pussycats’ building anyway. There had been no sound of an explosion, so it wasn’t Bakugou. And there was no light coming from the path, which would still be visible if it were Todoroki’s Quirk causing the smell, because he and Bakugou had just left. Nobody in Class 1-B had a Quirk that could create the scent of smoke.

“Pixie-Bob, Mandalay, do you smell that?” Izuku called out.

“I do,” Mandalay said, her eyes scanning the forest upwind from them.

Izuku followed her line of sight. Above the treeline, just tall enough to be seen, were licks of bright blue flame. His mind raced with ideas, each one trying to justify the reason for there to be blue fire in such a secluded area. Each one avoiding what he desperately hoped wasn’t true.

But it was, because as soon as Pixie-Bob shouted for them to return to the building, someone drove her head into the ground with a sickening crack.

…

Chapter Text

Two villains stood before them. One loomed over Pixie-Bob with her foot driving into the Pro’s head, and the other, whose scaly, reptilian face was twisted into a snarl. They were glaring out at the crowd of students, barely visible in the moonlight, but their presence was unmistakable. Their shadows seemed to entirely darken the clearing.

It felt similar to how Izuku felt whenever Bakugou approached him. But he couldn’t plan to freeze up and take whatever pain came like usual. Not this time. He needed to approach the situation with a clear mind. Which shouldn’t be a problem, because whichever villain was responsible for the fire wasn’t one of the two in front of him. And if he didn’t have to fight fire, he didn’t have to fight someone who reminded him of Bakugou, and Izuku could fight anyone but Bakugou.

The female villain — he’d call her Bulky Villain — stood at the same height as Tiger and was just as muscular and broad-shouldered. She was balancing a beam of some sort over her shoulder. It was wrapped tightly in a cloth, so Izuku couldn’t see what material it was made of, but it was clearly heavy. It had something to do with her Quirk, because it just didn’t make sense to choose such an impractical weapon if it didn’t serve a larger purpose. Still, unless he saw it in action, he wouldn’t be able to decipher just what it was for.

Lizard Villain’s appearance suggested a mutant-type Quirk, but people could have odd appearances that weren’t related to their Quirks. If the villain had an animal-related mutant-type, he’d have all the resources necessary to be a fighter— he wouldn’t really need a sword. Therefore, most likely, his Quirk wasn’t enough to pose a threat on its own.

So Bulky Villain was the one he needed to focus on more. If he could just get closer to her, he could take her Quirk, because it would be the easiest way to take her down, before she cou—

Kota. He hadn’t come back down his path before everyone had headed off for the test of courage. Izuku was likely the only person who knew where he was. And, if there was a villain responsible for the blue fire as there had to be, it wasn’t unreasonable to believe there were more. If these villains were from the group who’d attacked the USJ, then it was safe to assume. The villain responsible for the fire might be in the opposite direction, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more villains coming in from other angles.

From his position, Izuku wouldn’t be able to reach Bulky Villain to take her Quirk before going to find Kota. He didn’t want to waste the time repositioning. So he blurted, “Mandalay! I know where Kota is!” Then, he turned and sprinted back towards camp without looking back. He could trust the Wild, Wild Pussycats to handle themselves and protect everyone— it would be disrespectful not to.

Once he ensured Kota was safe inside the Pussycats’ building, Izuku could return. If the fight was still going on, he could take Bulky Villain’s Quirk and hopefully put an easy end to one battle. But, until Kota was safe, that would have to wait. Because while the Pussycats could protect themselves and his peers, Kota had no hope of standing up to a villain.

The villains were most likely there for Class 1-A, because Izuku hadn’t heard anything about villains targeting Class 1-B. And they certainly wouldn’t launch an attack on the Wild, Wild Pussycats alone. Sure, they weren’t unpopular, but they didn’t pose any major threat to villains like All Might did. Which was strange that they were even there, because All Might wasn’t. Had they come thinking All Might would be helping with their training?

No matter what they were there for, they probably wouldn’t be averse to killing anyone they found along the way if they weren’t of interest. And a little boy like Kota certainly wouldn’t be of interest. Even as a hostage, a U.A. student would have much more leverage. So Izuku sprinted.

As he did, he heard Mandalay’s voice through her Quirk, Telepath. She told every student to return to the building as soon as possible.

The trees around him flashed by in a black blur, his legs weak from three days of constant training but strong enough to carry him with enough willpower. He raced through the picnic tables and up the path, which was barely visible in the pale moonlight. His heart was hammering against his ribcage. The beat was hard enough to hurt.

He rushed out of the trees where the path had started and onto a rocky outcropping that dropped off on one side into another forest down a ways below. The other side was a wall of rock that shot up into the night sky. It blocked out any sign of the wall of blue fire or the billowing cloud of black smoke that was forming above it. The only exit would be the way Izuku came, then.

Hopefully, with the obvious sign of danger hidden from his view, Kota would have no reason to stray away, and he’d be at the end of the path. If he wasn’t, and there was no sign of a struggle in the area, Izuku would have to check the Pussycats’ building to see if he had returned by himself.

But at the end of the path wasn’t Kota. It was the hulking figure of a man, nothing more than a silhouette. He was looking down at something, his back to Izuku. Whatever it was, it was funny, because he was laughing. No, Kota was there. He was what the man was laughing at. He was cowering under the man and backing up one hesitant step at a time, inching closer to the edge of the cliff.

The sight made Izuku stumble, but he kept going. As he forced himself to throw each foot out in front of him, the man pulled his hand back. Izuku dove past the man and grabbed Kota, pulling him to his chest. He spun around so his back slammed into the ground rather than Kota’s. The uneven, rocky ground clawed at his back through his thin t-shirt as he tumbled. As soon as he skidded to a stop, he clambered to his feet, crouching down and holding out an arm in front of Kota.

Izuku’s breath hitched as the man took a step forward, looking down at them. The moon fully lit up his face. One eye was wild with crazed excitement, while the other was a mechanical prosthetic that had been sutured onto the skin around the socket.

It was Muscular.

“Well, it must be my lucky day,” Muscular said. His voice was filled with amusement, and it made Izuku’s stomach churn. “You’re the one we’re supposed to bring back. Alive.” He spat out the last word like it had left a bad taste in his mouth. “But I can kill the kid.”

Izuku should have known. If they wanted him alive, then they wanted him for his Quirk. If he was captured, would they ask him to steal Quirks for them? They wanted him to join them, he was sure. Did they believe he was already a villain in disguise, just waiting for a team to join? That didn’t matter. Muscular wanted to kill Kota, and Izuku wasn’t going to let that happen.

At least he’d said that Izuku was the only one the villains were searching for.

Nobody knew where they were— they couldn’t rely on anyone coming to help. But, if he could just touch Muscular’s skin or his exposed muscles, he wouldn’t need anyone else to get involved or injured or killed. He would just have to use his Quirk. That was fine. His Quirk would be saving someone.

“Kota,” Izuku whispered, “find somewhere away from him. I’ll protect you.”

He couldn’t see Kota from where he was behind him, and he refused to take his eyes off of Muscular. He just had to hope that Kota would follow his instructions when he could.

Muscular had a cloak draped over most of his body, leaving only his head, neck, and left arm exposed. His left arm was already covered in a thick layer of pink muscle. It winded and twisted around itself to cover every part of his arm up to his fingertips. But, just as Izuku’s eyes zeroed in on his potential target, Muscular grabbed his cloak and tore it away from his neck. He held up his right arm, and muscle fibers soon tore their way out of the skin on his shoulder and spiraled down his arm. It crawled up his neck, too. The fibers pulled at his chin and stopped when they reached his cheeks.

Izuku tried to hide his surprise, and he either succeeded, or, more likely, Muscular just wasn’t observant enough to notice. He had figured the cloak was to keep him from taking Muscular’s Quirk. Because whoever had sent Muscular out clearly had knowledge of Izuku’s Quirk and absolutely would have told Muscular to be wary of it. Was Muscular just too confident for his own good? From the three fights between him and Pro Heroes Izuku had seen, that wasn’t a terrible assumption. Whatever the reason, it didn’t change the fact that Izuku now had more to work with.

“Midoriya, right? I don’t think they’ll care too much if you come back just a little roughed up.”

Izuku bit down on the inside of his cheek— that wasn’t the first time he’d heard a threat like that.

Kota had moved now, having scooted a step or two to the side and then back. Izuku assumed he’d stopped when his back hit the rock wall. As much as he wanted to turn, to direct the fight over to the side where Kota couldn’t become collateral damage, Muscular wouldn’t follow. No, he’d kill Kota first, then focus on Izuku.

Muscular was close now. Izuku lunged forward, aiming for his forearm so that he still had a chance to hit his wrist or the back of his hand if he pulled away. But he jerked his arm out of Izuku’s reach in an instant. Izuku’s palm made contact with air. Pulling his arm back, Muscular raised his fist and drove his elbow down. Into Izuku’s back. Izuku swore he could hear his spine snap, but the pain wasn’t quite intense enough. His chest collided with the ground. More pain shot through his chest and ribs, hot and sharp. It stole the breath from his lungs.

He twisted and rolled away on an instinct engraved into him after days of training with Tiger, narrowly avoiding a kick that he hadn’t seen coming. Forcing himself to his feet, Izuku turned back to Muscular. It was Muscular’s confidence that had allowed him to stand back up without having to dodge another attack. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that. Before his eyes could refocus, Muscular’s boot drove into Izuku’s stomach and sent him backward. His back slammed against the rock wall. Izuku let out a silent gasp. As he hit the ground, he could tell his back was bleeding from the craggy wall stabbing through his skin.

At least he hadn’t slammed into Kota, who, now that Izuku spared a glance in his direction, was watching the fight in horror.

Izuku now had a decent grasp of Muscular’s speed— certainly faster than Shinsou, slightly slower than Tiger. Without Shinsou, he didn’t have much hope of tagging him, but his chances weren’t zero. If he could predict Muscular’s next move and dodge as soon as it was thrown, he could win. His moves were far more straightforward than Tiger’s. It wasn’t impossible.

A punch came barreling his way. Izuku just barely dodged it. His hand darted out to reach for Muscular’s arm, but he pulled back before Izuku could touch him.

“You’ll have to try harder than that, kid,” Muscular laughed.

Forcing his body to move, Izuku pushed himself off of the ground to avoid another kick. He dove between Muscular’s legs to get away. The kick still grazed his ribs, though. Izuku sure felt it. He ducked into a roll over his shoulder, then sprung back up, lifting his hands to his chin in a fighting stance. No fists. Uncurling his fingers would waste a half second that he might not have.

Muscular laughed again and turned to face Kota, whose back was pressed against the wall of a shallow cave.

In his current position, to even see Izuku, Muscular would have to take the time to look over his shoulder.

Izuku rushed at him again. Judging by the way Muscular was standing, the angle he was facing, and the angle Izuku was approaching from, he would glance over his right shoulder to see how Izuku would be attacking. That would make it easiest to throw a left punch or hook or haymaker. But it didn’t matter. Whichever it was, Izuku could block it all the same.

Muscular turned, looking around his right shoulder. He threw his left arm out to swat Izuku away. Izuku blocked just in time, simultaneously jerking his arm up to the side of his face so that his arm took Muscular’s powerful slap rather than the side of his head. The force of the blow was enough to make Izuku stumble. He dropped and dug his fingers into the ground to keep from toppling over the side of the cliff. Muscular laughed, hearty and bellowing. But it didn’t last, because Izuku’s hand had been open, and by the time Muscular looked down at his arms, his muscle fibers were shooting back under his skin and vanishing.

“My Quirk!” he cried, staring at his bare skin with wide eyes and flared nostrils. “But Kurogiri said your Quirk only works with skin contact! That fucking liar!”

So he had been toying with Izuku the whole fight, dodging all of Izuku’s moves just to make him lose hope, thinking that Izuku couldn’t take a Quirk from his muscles?

Even without his Quirk, Muscular was still much stronger than Izuku. But he wouldn’t be accustomed to fighting without his Quirk. That, coupled with the fact that he wouldn’t be used to fighting someone with his own Quirk, would be his downfall.

As long as Izuku didn’t accidentally knock himself off the side of the cliff with more power than he was expecting, he should be able to use Muscular’s Quirk. He couldn’t win without it, unfortunately.

Izuku let his muscles enlarge and break through his skin. The sensation stung, maybe— he couldn’t really tell. With the added muscles, his arm doubled in size. Power coursed through every bit of the fibers coiling around his skin. When Muscular charged towards him, much slower than Tiger now, swinging wildly at Izuku’s head, Izuku wasted no time in plunging his fist into Muscular’s chest. He aimed to ensure he didn’t use too much power. The punch knocked Muscular back, but he righted himself more easily than Izuku had expected. He hadn’t used enough power.

Focusing on increasing the mass on his right arm, Izuku let the muscles grow. They pulsed, threatening to explode, so Izuku forced some of the power in his arm to diminish. He half-avoided a wild swing from Muscular when he attempted to correct his mistake. Muscular’s knuckle grazed his cheekbone enough to leave a nasty bruise, but it was better than Izuku’s nose. Izuku ignored it, and with his power now controlled, he raced at Muscular and jumped up. He launched a punch directly at the man’s head. Muscular blocked it with crossed arms, but it wasn’t enough. His back slammed into the rock wall behind him.

Kota scrambled away, towards the path, but stopped where rock met dirt. Now, Izuku didn’t have to worry as much about him.

Muscular tried for another punch, but Izuku avoided it, turning his fist over and swinging an uppercut that connected with the bottom of Muscular’s jaw. He crumpled to the ground, not reacting when his nose hit first. Izuku winced. Muscular didn’t get back up.

Izuku let his Quirk-augmented muscles retract back into his body and settle under his skin where they belonged. They ached unlike ever before, but Izuku couldn’t tell whether it was a drawback of using Muscular’s Quirk or just the aftereffects of the battle in general. However, he could still move. Even if each step made every cell in his body scream.

After checking to ensure that Muscular was without a doubt unconscious, Izuku made his way carefully back to Kota. He dropped to his knees, as much from exhaustion as a courtesy to talk to Kota at roughly the same height. Eventually, Kota looked up at him. Tear tracks staining his cheeks but no more fell. Izuku offered his hand out for Kota to take, hoping the contact would help console him as it did for most, ignoring the way his skin crawled when Kota hesitantly took it.

“Let’s go back to camp, okay?” Izuku asked quietly. “He should be knocked out for a while, and even if he wakes up, he won’t be able to do much without his Quirk.”

Kota attempted to say something, but he couldn’t form the words.

Izuku smiled, but with how tired he was, he doubted it was particularly reassuring. “Can you run? Or should I carry you?”

“I- I can run.”

Izuku nodded, loosening his grip as he stood up. Kota still didn’t let go of his fingers, though, so Izuku curled his own so that he had a better hold. Together, they jogged back to camp, with Izuku slowing his pace so that Kota could keep up.

…

Chapter Text

Izuku scanned the forest as they ran, searching for any sign of another person in the area. The forest was too dark to see anything but black in every direction. The only light ahead of them came from the Pussycats’ building, where two outdoor spotlights were shining down on the entrance and a portion of the picnic tables. Back at the building, everything was just as they’d left it. No sign of a struggle anywhere. Still, a villain could still be inside. As soon as Mandalay had broadcasted her message when the villains first appeared, either Vlad King or Mr. Aizawa would have stayed behind, and the other would’ve gone out. One of them should be inside.

If there was a villain inside, Izuku would have to take their Quirk and leave it dormant in his body. Then, he could leave Kota with the hero course students and teacher and rejoin the fight outside.

Izuku directed them towards the front entrance, where the lobby inside looked intact as well. Just as he put his hand on the door, movement caught his eye. He whipped his head around to see Mr. Aizawa heading around the building. Was there a villain somewhere nearby, or had there been?

“Mr. Aizawa!”

Mr. Aizawa turned to him, and Izuku wanted to cringe when the teacher’s eyes scanned the damage on his body.

“Midoriya, what happened?”

“Sir, is everything okay inside? Do you know? If it is, Kota needs to get in. And I have to go help the others,” he said hurriedly. Kota stepped out from behind him.

“You’re not going back out there.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I need to. I can help stop them.”

Mr. Aizawa clicked his tongue, but Izuku saw his concurrence written in the way his shoulders stiffened and his lips pulled into a thin line. “You know where Mandalay is, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for Izuku to respond. “If you want to help, tell Mandalay that I give everyone permission to use their Quirks to defend themselves. That’s how you can fight. Come straight back afterwards. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir!” he agreed, though he had no intention of keeping that promise.

He tore his way back to the start of the test of courage, cutting straight through the forest rather than trying to retrace the steps the group had taken earlier. His breathing was labored, his back still throbbed, his chest burned, his legs were giving out. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him on his feet. But it worked.

When he reached the clearing, he stopped. He ducked behind a cluster of bushes and observed the fight from between the leaves. The Class 1-A students had all disappeared, either having gone back to the building, or, if the Pussycats hadn’t been able to stop them, had gone to help Class 1-B and a few Class 1-A students along the path. Pixie-Bob was lying motionless on the ground off to the side. A gash in her forehead still oozed blood. Mandalay and Tiger were fighting the same two villains, Mandalay fighting Lizard Villain and Tiger fighting Bulky Villain, who was balancing her support item on both shoulders.

Both Pro Heroes seemed to be struggling, but they could hold their own better than the students. There were more villains out there, searching for Izuku to capture. And threatening the lives of the people who’d been kind enough to offer their Quirks without him even asking.

If Izuku could just take Bulky Villain’s Quirk while she was distracted by Tiger, he could turn the tide of their battle before retreating to the path. Whatever Bulky Villain’s Quirk was, once it was gone, Tiger would have one less thing to worry about. Izuku would sneak up on her. He would take her Quirk, tell Mandalay Mr. Aizawa’s message, and retreat down the path. Hopefully, taking it would make it easier for Tiger to best her and help Mandalay. She lacked a combat-oriented Quirk necessary to overpower Lizard Villain.

Izuku set his plan into motion. He kept low to the ground as he circled around the area and positioned himself behind Tiger and Bulky Villain. To stay out of sight, he kept himself hidden behind the trunk of a tree. He peered around the side, waiting for an opportunity.

When Tiger sent her flying back a few meters with a well-timed kick, Izuku leapt into action. His footsteps were drowned out by Bulky Villain’s complaints. At the last second, Izuku pivoted. He turned to the side and slapped a hand across the villain’s arm as he ran by. His slap served as a distraction as well, it seemed. Tiger took the next second to grab her head and plunge it into the ground.

“I took her Quirk!” Izuku shouted, drawing any eyes that weren’t already focused on him. He switched directions, now heading for the start path where the test of courage had begun. “Mandalay, Kota’s safe! And I need you to use your Quirk to tell everyone something! Mr. Aizawa gives the students permission to engage in combat with the villains in self-defense!”

As Izuku barreled down the start of the path, he heard Mandalay’s voice in his head, repeating what he’d just relayed to her. It must have been too much trouble to exclude just him while giving the message to everyone else.

Izuku sped up as much as he could, eyes searching frantically for any movement, any sign of life, hoping to find a villain he could stop or a classmate he could help.

And soon enough, he got his wish. Just not quite as peacefully as he’d imagined.

…

Of course there’d be a villain attack on 1-A. Of course Hitoshi would have to get dragged into it. All he’d wanted to do was scare some self-righteous idiots. Was that so much to ask? Apparently. But he couldn’t say he minded much. Brainwashing a villain or two sounded like good fun and a good way to prove he belonged in the hero course.

“‘M coming,” Hitoshi said. He pushed the gas mask over his mouth. “There’s a villain, I’ll brainwash ‘em.”

Kendou and Tetsutetsu stared at each other, then nodded. The three of them headed into the cloud of purple gas.

The gas had been growing denser, but now it was so thick that Hitoshi couldn’t see half a meter in front of him. They slowed their jog down to a walk. Too slow for him. But it did keep him from making a fool of himself like Tetsutetsu. He was having a harder time dodging bushes and trees than Hitoshi and Kendou were. Yeah, Hitoshi’d already stumbled over a root or two. But Tetsutetsu had already fallen over a bush and conked his head on the ground on the other side. Checking to make sure the dumbass hadn’t led the villain to them took away all Hitoshi’s fun.

Hopefully Midoriya was doing better than that idiot, since there was no way he’d go back to camp. He’d skirt around the Pros and head off to try and help. With his new mindset, he’d probably rack up a villain’s Quirk or two. Maybe he wouldn’t even feel guilty when everything was over. Still probably insist he return them somehow though. But at least he’d take them.

Hopefully Midoriya would come out of whatever the hell this was unscathed. It wasn’t exactly good timing, so their odds weren’t looking good.

“I think the villain is close,” Kendou whispered.

Hitoshi turned his attention back to the task at hand. Focus on the villain now, worry about his friend later.

Tetsutetsu ran ahead, jumping into the swirl of gas. He was instantly swallowed in it. Hitoshi and Kendou followed. Just as Hitoshi could see behind the spiraling wall, a gunshot rang out. The clang of it bouncing off metal sounded through the air. The bullet must’ve hit Tetsutetsu’s cheek, because his mask clattered to the ground. It split in two on impact. Great.

Hitoshi still couldn’t see the villain. He’d just have to hope he didn’t get a bullet through the skull before the villain responded. They had to hurry.

“Really? A gun?” Hitoshi called out.

The villain scoffed. “You might thi—”

Hitoshi grinned, stepping forward until he could see the guy. His face was covered by a mask, but his voice made it obvious he was younger than Hitoshi. The hell was someone junior-high-age doing with the League?

“Stop making the gas. Stand still.”

The gas abruptly stopped its circular motion and burst out in all directions. It dissipated into the air until no trace of it was left. Without any hesitation, Hitoshi took a few steps forward and punched the guy square in the jaw. He collapsed to his knees. He seemed to pause in midair for a second before dropping gracelessly to the ground. Hitoshi shook out his hand, prepared for some bruised knuckles later.

“Well, that was easy,” Kendou said.

…

A dark mass shot out of the trees and slammed down on Izuku’s right arm. He could feel a bone snap under the pressure. It was years of practice, years of keeping quiet to avoid drawing attention to himself, that kept him from crying out in pain. Before his body could hit the ground and bruise — if not break — his already damaged ribs, something slammed into him again. It knocked him sideways.

He opened his eyes to find Shoji carrying him in his webbed arms.

The feeling of Shoji’s arms trapping him was somehow more terrible than the way a bolt of pain exploded in Izuku’s arm with every step Shoji made. But Izuku wasn’t going to complain. Every bone and every muscle and every tendon ached now that he wasn’t moving of his own accord. If Shoji set him down now, he doubted he’d be getting back up.

Izuku’s eyes drifted back in the direction they’d come from, only to see what he assumed was Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow. Tokoyami had explained his Quirk to Izuku two days before, describing how Dark Shadow grew weaker in bright light and much stronger in the dark. How it could grow too powerful to control if angered with no light to subdue it. From his tone, Izuku had imagined Dark Shadow was quite the force to be reckoned with. But he hadn’t imagined this.

Dark Shadow was a huge, writhing mass of purple-black. It raged and yowled, clawing at anything that stood in its path. Trees fell beneath its staggering weight. Tokoyami struggled in its grip, unsuccessfully commanding it to calm down. His face was the only part of his body still visible under his own Quirk. It rushed past them, its standardly yellow eyes now a bloody red. It whipped its head in all directions, at one point staring in their direction, before continuing its search for something Izuku didn’t know.

“Dark Shadow is attracted to sound right now. If we stay quiet, he shouldn’t attack us,” Shoji whispered into Izuku’s ear through a mouth he’d grown on the end of one of his arms.

“My Quirk only works with direct skin contact,” Izuku said into the ear right beside the mouth. “I don’t think it’ll work here. It’s a risk we probably shouldn’t take.”

Izuku forced his eyes to stay open as Shoji bent his knees and jumped, avoiding the massive, clawed hand that swatted at them. When Shoji touched down, he ducked back under the cover of the trees.

Was there a way to calm Dark Shadow down without taking Tokoyami’s Quirk from him? The only other way to calm Dark Shadow down that Izuku knew of was to use light. They wouldn’t be finding much of that with Shoji’s Quirk or the Quirks Izuku had in his possession. The wall of blue flames was spreading, but it still was too far off to be useful. Therefore, Bakugou or Todoroki’s Quirks would be their sole option.

But leading Dark Shadow to them without getting killed was the question. Sure, Izuku could ask Shoji to run as fast as he could and hope for the best, but that wasn’t much of a plan. No, he needed something that could ensure their survival, if not their safety.

In the distance, up the path, flickered an orange light between the trees, barely visible at all. Shoji’s Quirk might not be useful for calming Dark Shadow directly, but it could be useful yet.

“It’s a gamble,” Izuku started, “but it’s the best chance we have, I think. If… if you think it’s okay… Bakugou is up ahead on the path or somewhere near it. I think. Did you hear that explosion? If we can lead Dark Shadow to Bakugou, he can calm him down. And Todoroki will probably be with him, which can only help.” Shoji jumped out of the way of another swipe of a massive talon. “If you keep making duplicates on your arms, keep branching them out, you can bait him with those. That way, Dark Shadow won’t go after us. Is that okay? I know I could be asking you to sacrifice a few limbs, but I think it’d be better than getting crushed… Or, if you give me a little more time, maybe I can come up with something that won’t hurt you… I’m sorry. Or, if you’d be okay with it, I could take your Quirk and sacrifice my limbs instead. Or maybe if w—”

“No, I think it’s good. We’ll try it.”

At the same time Shoji leapt out of their hiding spot behind a tree, he grew one of his arms out on each side until there were three duplicates on each. Dark Shadow jerked around at the sound of Shoji’s heavy footsteps and thundered after them. It dragged its body along the ground with its arms. Though Izuku wasn’t on the ground himself, he swore he could feel it shaking under Dark Shadow’s weight.

It swiped at Shoji’s duplicated arms, claws out and ready to tear. But Shoji kept pulling his arms away just in time, running faster than Izuku would’ve been able to even if he hadn’t fought Muscular. The trees blurred past. He couldn’t see anything behind them— he couldn’t turn his neck that far. He could only hope Dark Shadow wasn’t catching up.

Up ahead, a light flashed in and out of sight from between the silhouettes of the trees. Most likely, the booms of Bakugou’s explosions were being drowned out by Dark Shadow’s bellowing.

Shoji increased his speed, bursting through a clump of bushes and into a small clearing, where Todoroki and Bakugou stood. Slumped over Todoroki’s back was Tsuburaba, the Class 1-B student with the Solid Air Quirk. Crumpled on the ground was a villain bound by a full-body straightjacket that even wrapped around his head. Was he unconscious? Probably not, or at least not certainly, if the stances Bakugou and Todoroki had been in just before turning were any indication. Nobody else was in the area.

“Bakugou, Todoroki, give us some light!” Shoji said.

They dove away from Dark Shadow’s path to stand beside Todoroki, whose right side was covered in a sparkling layer of frost. Bakugou’s Quirk sparked to life in his hands, but it flickered out suddenly. The villain began to groan. Ah— Bakugou was going to use Dark Shadow to take out a villain that he and Todoroki weren’t a good matchup against.

The villain pushed himself to his feet. Nothing but the bottom half of his face was visible, with the rest hidden by the straightjacket. He was picking himself up with his teeth. Each one was a long, jagged blade. With the blades secured into the ground, the villain was able to push himself into the air. He groaned some more. Then he yelled, and Dark Shadow whipped its head around to face him. With a triumphant yowl, it crushed the villain under a clawed hand. Then it tossed the villain away with a yowling cackle, and he hit the ground and tumbled.

Bakugou produced a continuous explosion in his hand after confirming the villain wouldn’t be picking himself back up, holding the sparks up to Dark Shadow’s face. Todoroki raised his left hand and let an orange flame flicker to life. With a final growl that rattled Izuku’s eardrums, the Quirk shrunk back to its usual size. Tokoyami dropped to his knees, panting and thanking the two for their help.

“Shoji, can you put me down?” Izuku asked quietly.

Once his feet were planted back on the ground, Izuku thanked Shoji and stumbled over to the villain’s body. His legs gave out before he reached him. He dropped down to his hands and knees, vision blurring, and remained that way until he could see once more. When he could, he dragged himself to Tooth Villain. With trembling hands, he pushed the villain’s pant leg up and took his Quirk. Then he let himself fall to the side, sitting down and hunching over to regain control of his stomach before he vomited. He must’ve looked pathetic.

“Just in case,” Izuku explained, his voice low. “...It’ll make him easier to capture.” He looked over at Shoji, then Todoroki, then Tokoyami, his eyes naturally drifting over Bakugou. He could tell Bakugou was scowling by the noise he was making. “You guys… should get back to camp. I need a few minutes, but I can go back out there.”

“If we’re going, you’re coming as well,” Tokoyami said. “You look fit to collapse.”

“What happened?” Todoroki asked.

Izuku scanned their surroundings again, eyes flicking to everything that could be a threat. At the same time, he said, “Well… when the villains first showed themselves, I went back to camp and fought a villain there.” Nobody else was in the area, as far as he could tell. “He, um- I took his Quirk, but he landed a few hits first. I knocked him out, though.”

“So you have two Quirks now?” Todoroki asked.

“...Three. When I went to Mandalay to relay Mr. Aizawa’s message, I took the Quirk of a villain Tiger was fighting.”

Todoroki’s mismatched eyes studied Izuku’s face. “Can your body handle three?”

Izuku looked down at his hands. If he played his cards right, he’d be able to stand again soon. “I’ll be okay.”

“We should head back to camp,” Tokoyami said.

“I can still help,” Izuku said. “I’m going back out there. The more Quirks I take, the less the villains can hurt anyone.”

“No,” Todoroki said, his voice stern. “With those injuries, you won’t be able to do anything. Especially not with three Quirks.”

“If I can move, I can still fight.”

“Fucking hell, Deku. Shut up,” Bakugou barked.

Izuku snapped his mouth shut, fully aware silence was his best option at the moment. But, if that didn’t stop Bakugou, what would Izuku do? He couldn’t handle another patch of burned flesh with his injuries. He couldn’t handle the smell of smoke resurfacing after the wind had changed direction and kept the fetor of the blue flames from hitting his nose. But Bakugou wouldn’t attack him with the others around, because he’d gone to such lengths to ensure few found out in junior high, and even Bakugou couldn’t become a hero if—

“I think the best course of action is heading back to camp. We don’t need more casualties,” Shoji said.

Izuku’s voice didn’t have the same determination when he said, “But…”

“If you keep talking back, I’ll blast your ass straight back to camp myself,” Bakugou said.

Izuku didn’t reply.

It felt wrong, hearing Bakugou say that Izuku needed to do something to ensure his safety. He was almost ready to believe it was because Bakugou didn’t want to lose the opportunity to burn Izuku’s skin in the future. But he hadn’t done that in a while, and it was much harder to get away with harming Izuku at U.A. (There were too many bystanders who were obligated to report such behavior despite the person being targeted.) So there had to be another reason, didn’t there? He could imagine Bakugou telling him to get abducted by the villains for all he cared much more easily than he could imagine what had actually left Bakugou’s mouth.

And that was what made Bakugou even worse than what he could’ve been— while Izuku could read his expressions and interpret his emotions easily, he just couldn’t unravel Bakugou’s motivations.

“Let’s go,” Todoroki said.

Everyone nodded, and Izuku relented. He let his shoulders slump as he accepted Shoji’s offer to carry him again. As they started off in the general direction of the Pussycats’ building, too far to see it but too close to miss it if they walked in its direction, Izuku craned his neck to check their surroundings once again.

Shinsou could hold his own, Izuku knew, but the villains would know what his Quirk was. Without it, Shinsou would be at a severe disadvantage. Especially if he had to fight someone like the villain responsible for the blue fire.

The run back to the Pussycats’ building was agonizing. His blood was no longer pumping in his ears, and his racing heart had slowed to a more acceptable pace, leaving his body struggling to accept every step Shoji made. His elbow was absolutely broken, though he hadn’t looked at it yet. He was afraid of what he’d see.

They wove around the bushes and trees in their path, Todoroki using his fire to light up the area in front of them as best he could without burning down the rest of the forest. But then Todoroki cut out his flame and stopped, holding his hand behind him in a gesture for them to stop as well. Izuku held his breath and listened to a twig snap under someone or something’s weight. His eyes snapped to where the sound had come from. Bakugou was, naturally, the first to move. He shoved Todoroki to the side and leapt at the source of the noise with explosions in each palm. The light from his Quirk lit up the area, and Izuku saw just who they were up against.

“Shinsou!”

Shinsou turned to look at Izuku after Bakugou had sailed past him, cursing at least three different ways as he landed awkwardly. When their eyes met, Izuku saw Shinsou’s eyes widen, then return to normal. Izuku was relieved as well, because Shinsou didn’t have a scratch on him. Well, his clothes were dirty, but they weren’t even torn anywhere that he could see. Beside him were Tetsutetsu and Kendou, both out of breath but unscathed as well.

Shinsou walked up to Shoji, staring up at Izuku, who was straining his neck to peer over Shoji’s shoulder. His eyes trailed down from Izuku’s face, lingering on his arm. Izuku had kept out of Shoji’s grip to prevent it from being injured further. Though Shinsou stifled the expression quickly, Izuku didn’t miss the flash of disgust on his face. Finally prompted to look at it, Izuku risked a glance. He was met with a bloodied bone jutting out of his elbow at a terrible angle.

Shinsou’s expression asked, ‘What happened?’

“I... ran into a villain back at camp, and he messed me up pretty bad,” Izuku said, giving him a weak laugh.

“At camp.”

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have come back out here, but I just…”

“One Quirk?”

Izuku smiled guiltily, all teeth and all awkwardness. “Three, actually.”

“Three?” he hissed.

“We should really keep moving,” Todoroki said. “We’ll all go back to camp together.”

Izuku nodded reluctantly, turned his head away from Shinsou and back to the path they’d be traveling ahead, and felt his body shrink.

…

Chapter Text

Midoriya’s body was gone in a flash of yellow and black.

The yellow and black was the villain that had taken him. He stood above them in the branch of a tree that was taller than the ones beside it. His face was hidden behind a mask, but Hitoshi could bet the bastard was smirking. He was leaning against the trunk of the tree casually, one hand on the bark and the other out in front of him. A turquoise marble was in his hand.

Was Midoriya in the marble? Was the guy’s Quirk trapping people in marbles?

“I took him with my magic,” the villain said. His voice was disgustingly proud. He tossed the marble into the air and caught it. “A boy with such a good Quirk shouldn’t waste it being a hero. It would be much better suited to our cause, I would think.”

Of course that was what they were after. What the hell else would it’ve been?

“Y’think he’d do anything for you?” Hitoshi asked.

The villain pressed a comm in his ear. “Vanguard Action Squad, I’ve acquired our target. Kurogiri, I could use a little help, if you could spare the time.” He looked down at Hitoshi and the others. “I apologize for leaving so suddenly, but I should be going now.”

He didn’t respond. He’d said something, but he hadn’t responded. This villain knew about his Quirk. If his Quirk didn’t work, he wasn’t much use. He couldn’t be useless. Not now.

Todoroki’s ice flew by Hitoshi’s side and pierced through the tree the villain had been standing on, but he’d already jumped to the next one. Dark Shadow launched itself up and reached out to grab the villain. Slipping into the cover of the trees, the villain dodged. Then he dropped down to the ground.

Bakugou was at his side in an instant. He burned the side of the villain’s coat and skin. The villain yelped and drew back, clutching his side with a gloved hand. Hitoshi caught sight of a glint between his fingers. The marble. It was in his pocket.

At the same time the marble slipped down, Bakugou reached out to grab the villain’s arm. His hand sank into a portal of black and purple. With a growl, he jerked his arm out of the swirling circle and jumped back. Two yellow eyes with no pupils formed at the top of the portal and narrowed.

“The Warp Villain,” he grumbled.

“He was at the USJ,” Todoroki said.

Who the hell cared what the villain’s name was or where he’d been before? Shouldn’t Midoriya be a little more important?

“Wasting your time!” Hitoshi shouted. “He’d never help you!”

Neither villain said a word.

Then someone stepped through the portal. Another villain. His face was an ugly mix of normal and blackened skin, like parts of it had been burned, melted, and stapled together to keep the ruined flesh from falling off. Gross.

The masked villain stepped around the portal, bowed, and took off his mask. He pressed it to his chest and rose up. His mouth and eyes were uncovered now, but the rest was still hidden by a thin black mask that wrapped around his head. The patchwork villain waved him away and stepped up.

Bakugou lunged again, hooking his left arm around to attack the patchwork villain from the side. Blue flames erupted along the villain’s arm and shot out at Bakugou. It clearly hurt him, but he twisted his right arm around for another attack. The patchwork villain blocked it. More blue flames surrounded Bakugou’s arm.

“Sorry, but that’s not going to work,” the villain laughed.

With a maniacal grin, he lit up both arms in his fire. Bakugou flinched back and put some distance between them. As Bakugou stopped, Todoroki launched himself past him with his ice. Ice shot across his arm as he reached for the villain, trying to freeze the villain’s arms. The villain kept the fire blazing on his arms. He grabbed Todoroki’s wrist and kicked him away. Todoroki landed on his knees, then twisted himself around to face the fight again. His ice flew at the villain, and he jumped to the side to avoid it.

Hitoshi saw his chance.

“Tokoyami!”

Hitoshi dove towards the first villain, grabbing his ankle and pulling with all his strength. The villain’s knees buckled, and Dark Shadow caught him in its grip.

“Get the marble! Right pocket!” Hitoshi said.

The patchwork villain didn’t even flinch back when Tokoyami and Dark Shadow came hurtling towards him. He raised an arm and let a blue blast of fire go, forcing Tokoyami back and shrinking Dark Shadow down. Hitoshi’s back flared with pain as the fire burned through his shirt and bit at his skin. He couldn’t stop himself from crying out.

But he was pretty sure the burns weren’t that deep. So he had to push through it. He reached up and pulled at the patchwork villain’s long coat. But before he could do anything, the villain stomped down on his arm. Hard.

His elbow snapped when boot and bone met ground. He let go of the villain’s coat instinctively, unable to focus on anything but pain. With fuzzy vision, he watched Sho-something’s duplicated arm reach for the masked villain’s pocket and get caught in another line of flame. He pulled away and grabbed Hitoshi as he jumped back. Hitoshi hit the guy’s chest as they landed.

Hitoshi forced his eyes open. Bakugou and Todoroki had backed off, and the two villains were stepping into the portal. Opening his mouth, the masked villain revealed a second marble resting on his tongue. A snap of his fingers made the marble burst open. In a flash of blue light, Midoriya appeared. He was held still by the patchwork villain wrapping a hand around his throat.

Of course the one in his pocket had been fake. Hitoshi should’ve known. Damnit.

Midoriya glanced at each of them once, looking way too calm for the position he was in. After he finished looking at each of them, his eyes went back to meet Hitoshi’s. He smiled a smile that was barely there at all. Like he was trying to reassure Hitoshi. Like Hitoshi was the one who needed help.

Hitoshi surged forward. He ran and ran, not sure exactly what he was going to do. All he knew was that he had to do something. Anything. As long as it worked.

Midoriya’s smile dropped. He whispered quickly, “Stay back, Shinsou.”

The masked villain sank into the portal.

The patchwork villain followed with a smirk, but only after staring past Hitoshi’s shoulder. “Too bad, heroes. Shouto.” Then he was gone.

Without even a flash or sound, the portal closed.

Hitoshi crashed to the ground, tumbling, hitting his shoulder, back, side, before coming to a stop. He didn’t bother trying to pick himself up. Planting his forehead on the ground, he dug his fingernails into the rock beneath his hands. His fingernails scraped and pulled. Hitoshi half-expected them to tear right off. But he didn’t feel it.

…

Chapter Text

Wasn’t it bad enough having to live through it once? But Eraserhead needed to know.

Eraserhead had said his name, so now Hitoshi knew: Shoji. Shoji explained first. After he’d explained how he’d run into Midoriya and their plan to lure Dark Shadow to Bakugou and Todoroki, he stopped. Bakugou and Todoroki explained the rest. Then it was Hitoshi’s turn to add anything they’d missed. If there was something. There was.

“Y’have t’find him,” Hitoshi pressed. It was supposed to be a demand, but it didn’t really sound like one. Whatever. “He’d been getting better. Stopped whining ‘bout his Quirk. Used t’always cry. Not here.”

Hitoshi looked at Bakugou, who’d turned his head away from the group. From the conversation. He hoped that meant the asshole felt guilty for what he’d done in the past. Because he should. Whatever he’d done to make Midoriya so afraid of him, he should feel like shit for it. Hitoshi was almost tempted to tell Eraserhead his thoughts, but that’d raise questions when they got Midoriya back. Questions Midoriya would have to answer. It’d be adding more fuel to an already big enough fire.

“The League’ll ruin his progress. They’ll destroy him.”

Eraserhead stood up, looking him in the eye. “We’ll get him back.”

…

Chapter Text

Two doors, one on either side of the room, were the only exits. The one to Izuku’s left seemed to lead into another room, judging by the one time it had been opened by Patchwork Villain. The other hadn’t been opened yet. If it ever would be. There wasn’t a single window in the room, nor was there any way to tell the time.

The bar smelled like an abandoned building that hadn’t seen a broom or a bottle of air freshener or the light of day in years. And alcohol, of course. The smell of alcohol clashed dangerously with the musty smell of an old cabin. (Or at least what Izuku imagined an old cabin would smell like.) Shelves upon shelves were stocked to the brim with glass bottles, their sides either reflecting the dim lights from above or the images of the villains sitting in the stools at the wooden bar. Other than a dusty box TV in the corner, the countertop had nothing on it.

There were six villains in the bar. Lizard Villain and Bulky Villain weren’t among them, so he hoped that meant they’d been captured. Either that, or they were somewhere else. The other room, or even another hideout? The villains’ stares ranged from excited, courtesy of the sole female member of the current group, to downright malicious, courtesy of the man with a pale, gray hand attached to his face that covered all but one red eye.

There was no way for him to escape. Not chained up as he was. And not against six villains, all of which appeared uninjured.

Using Muscle Augmentation would only exacerbate his injuries. They hadn’t bound his mouth, so he could potentially use Blade Tooth Quirk anytime. He could even use it to cut the straps binding him. But he’d probably accidentally stab himself in the process. And this thought most likely wouldn’t amount to anything, because, in his current state, if he tried to use any of the Quirks he possessed, he would probably hit the floor before anyone could attack.

But at least his body didn’t have to try to heal any recent cuts on his shoulders— he hadn’t cut himself in nearly a week. That was the longest he’d gone without hurting himself since the summer, and it wasn’t just because it was more difficult to get away with it with so many people around. Oddly enough, he hadn’t felt the overwhelming urge to do so. The urge had still surfaced every day like always, but it hadn’t been intense enough to act on. If he had his X-ACTO knife right now and his hands weren’t bound, on the other hand…

Hopefully Izuku had sustained the most damage out of everyone who’d been at the camp. Hopefully everyone had gotten away safely.

He was glad that Shinsou hadn’t made it to him in time. If Shinsou had, the villains would’ve killed him. Unless they thought his Quirk could be useful as well. But Izuku doubted that— if they’d wanted to kidnap Shinsou, Marble Villain could have easily done so. And, even if he had made it through the portal before it closed, and even if the villains decided to keep him alive, they’d still have to convince him to join their side. Whatever that convincing happened to be.

Yes, it was better that Izuku was alone.

Especially after he had already let everyone down, getting himself captured after knowing that that was the League of Villain’s — that was the name they introduced themselves with — plan. And after he’d failed to save anyone. Because he’d given in as soon as Bakugou had opposed him, and he had been the reason the villains had attacked at all. He deserved to suffer at the hands of these villains by himself, to be subjected to whatever kind of spirit-breaking torture they were preparing to put him through.

He had a feeling that the so-called torture wouldn’t be physical, though, considering the villains had gone to the trouble to bandage him as best they could. There was quite a bit of arguing between them as they’d done it. Izuku couldn’t remember much, but he remembered enough to know they were arguing about how best to go about it. Clearly not one of them had a healing Quirk or any formal training on how to properly take care of wounds. The bandages winding around his arms were too loose, and the one around his middle too tight. They hadn’t even attempted to fix his elbow.

They wanted him to live, but he was afraid he wouldn’t for much longer if this was the extent of their capabilities. What exactly would they do if he got an infection? They couldn’t possibly expect him to be of much use if they didn’t set his bone back or amputate the arm. Maybe they were going to offer to properly fix it — in other words, find someone who was trained to heal or who had a healing Quirk — if he agreed to ally himself with them. Or maybe they had a healer coming soon, and they believed healing him would make him feel indebted to them?

If only he knew what exactly they were planning. Without any more knowledge than the obvious backbone of a plan to manipulate him, how could Izuku formulate his own plan? He needed more information, and he didn’t know when he would receive it. It was worse than even an approach from Bakugou, because this time he had no past experiences to reference. In the past, he had already been the villain.

Izuku shifted in his seat as much as he could, but the straps kept him firmly bound to the chair. They rubbed against his arm. He winced. The shackles that encased his hands and wrists didn’t feel the best either, but at least they weren’t going to tear at his exposed skin, as the villains had bandaged him from his upper arms all the way to his fingertips.

Unfortunately, he suspected he’d be getting quite familiar with the chair. Well, hopefully he wouldn’t be in it for too long. The Pro Heroes would come to save him whether they wanted to or not, because it was their job. Because he was a U.A. student, and because if they didn’t, he could become a villain whose Quirk could rival All Might’s.

“Do you know why you’re here, Izuku Midoriya?”

It took a second for Izuku to realize the voice belonged to the villain with the shaggy light blue hair and the decaying hand on his face. Tomura Shigaraki, the Warp Villain had called him. The hand was too detailed and too flexible to be fake, and Izuku wasn’t sure he wanted to know why the man kept someone’s severed hand attached to him. Izuku wished he’d take it off so he could see the villain’s facial expressions, but hopefully his tone would be enough to work with. It seemed promising at the moment.

“Well?” he asked impatiently.

There was no point in feigning ignorance. “My, um- my Quirk.”

“Smart kid,” he said, but he sounded far more irritated than impressed. Maybe Izuku would be able to read him perfectly well with only his voice. Still, seeing his face would be nice. “That’s right. Master wants to see you. He thinks your Quirk would be a great addition to our little team here.”

At first glance, Shigaraki seemed to be the one in charge by the way the Warp Villain acted around him. But he had a master— so his master was the one truly in command of the League of Villains. Would Izuku be meeting this master, would he be the one in charge of turning Izuku into a villain, or would he leave that to Shigaraki and his allies?

“I think we should’ve taken Katsuki Bakugou, not you.”

So Shigaraki’s master had ordered him to bring Izuku back despite Shigaraki wanting to bring back Bakugou.

Izuku frowned. Sure, Bakugou had demonstrated how violent he could be during the sports festival, but if Shigaraki wanted to recruit him, that meant he could see potential in Bakugou. Even with his violent nature, nobody had ever said he could become a villain. With a Quirk like Bakugou’s, heroism was only natural to assume. To think someone, despite Bakugou’s Quirk, despite his position in the most prestigious hero school in the country, believed he could become a villain.

Shigaraki’s master saw potential in Izuku’s Quirk, and Shigaraki saw potential in Bakugou’s behavior. The master relied on logic (and a confidence in his or his subordinates’ abilities to manipulate Izuku into switching sides), and the student relied on emotions. How long had Shigaraki’s master been guiding him? How much did his master want him to be his own person? They clearly didn’t agree on what was seemingly important, which was odd.

He would imagine that someone in control of an organization like the League — which had to have a good number of members with what Uraraka had told him about the attack on the USJ — would have some sort of grand plan. They’d gone to a great deal of trouble to track Izuku down and capture him when he had been surrounded by Pro Heroes and hero course students. There had to be a good reason.

And if the League of Villains was planning for something big, Izuku didn’t think Shigaraki’s master would want to take any chances. So why didn’t Shigaraki agree with him? He would have thought that Shigaraki’s master, since he had a student at all, would want his student to follow exactly in his footsteps when he took over. Wasn’t it a student’s job to take over for his master one day? Maybe Shigaraki hadn’t known his master for very long. Maybe he was still learning, still being eased into his position.

“You know what he said,” Patchwork Villain said, clearly irritated at having to repeat himself. “This kid’s got way more potential. That Bakugou kid’s too arrogant to be of any use.”

It was true, in a way, that Bakugou was too arrogant to become a villain. Though Izuku wasn’t sure arrogant was the correct word. The pride that Bakugou had was well-deserved with the accomplishments he had stored in his pockets. He was attending the best hero school in the country, one of the best in the world. Where he’d taken first place in both the entrance exam and the sports festival. Why give up his future as one of the top heroes in the country, if not the Number One position, just to become what he wanted to fight against?

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Shigaraki snapped.

Izuku wasn’t sure who he was, but it didn’t matter. The logic had already been explained to Shigaraki, and Shigaraki’s master agreed with it, and yet he still thought Bakugou would be a better choice than Izuku. Why had Shigaraki’s master chosen him when he seemed so… childlike? Like he couldn’t understand complicated matters and relied on hunches alone? Did his master choose him because he could be easily manipulated, and thereby would alter his views over time? Or maybe this was some kind of villainous nepotism?

One of Shigaraki’s eyes peered from between the thumb and index finger of the pale hand on his face, and he narrowed it at Izuku. “Katsuki Bakugou is much stronger than this brat, though.” Even after being reminded of why Izuku had been chosen, he still tried to argue his point? He couldn’t accept such a small defeat? “He might have Master’s Quirk, but that’s all he’s good for.”

What?

“I don’t think you were supposed to mention that,” Patchwork Villain said.

“Mention what?”

“That he’s got the same Quirk.”

Shigaraki paused like he hadn’t realized he’d even made the mistake, then huffed like he was attempting to protect himself from shame. “He would’ve found out anyways. It doesn’t matter.”

Shigaraki’s master, the leader of the League of Villains, had the same Quirk as Izuku? Was that why he wanted to see Izuku, why he’d ordered that squad of villains to hunt Izuku down and bring him back alive? Because he saw not just Quirk Transfer’s potential but the potential for Izuku to become just like him?

With his arms and hands bound, Izuku couldn’t hide his face like he wanted to. He could, however, drop his head and hide his eyes behind the longer strands of his hair. So he did. He tried a little breathing trick he’d learned years ago in an attempt to calm the sudden urge to flee whenever it cropped up and he knew better than to listen to it. The straps that locked him into place felt too tight, and he could barely twitch his fingers in the cuffs that surrounded his hands. His legs couldn’t move, his arms couldn’t move, his hands couldn’t move, his fingers couldn’t move. Nothing could move. He couldn’t escape, and he couldn’t think of a good plan because he hadn’t even met the true threat yet.

“Exactly! He’d have to learn eventually,” the girl said.

When their eyes met, she grinned, displaying two sharp canine teeth like fangs.

“You’re just my type, you know,” she said to him, leaning over the wooden counter from where she was standing behind it. She dragged her finger up the sharp side of her knife, then pointed it at him. “Because you’re so bruised up and broken! But you’re not bleeding anymore, which is a bummer.” She pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. “I’d really love to stab you, but apparently I’m not allowed to. Nobody here is any fun.”

That shouldn’t have been as reassuring as it was, and it really wasn’t— at least, not the ‘not stabbing’ part. Her voice had cut through his jumbled thoughts like the famously sharp double blades of the retired Pro Hero Duel.

She was twirling a strand of her blond hair around the finger of the hand not holding a knife. Her hair was tied in two buns, one on each side of her head. Loose strands of hair poked out of them at every angle. Oddly enough, she was wearing a high school uniform, though Izuku didn’t recognize it. Could she really be attending school while also being a member of a villain organization?

“My name’s Himiko Toga! But you can call me Himiko. And I’ll call you Izu-chan,” she sang. She pushed herself up on the counter so she could lean closer, but luckily she was still a few feet away from him.

“Izu...chan?”

“Yeah! You like it, don’t you? Oh, what if you give me a nickname, too?”

Well, she was certainly forward. And terribly easy to read, which he appreciated.

His goal — of which he had little faith in his ability to make reality, but faith and necessity were awfully different — was simple. He would pretend to reject the villains at first, then slowly succumb to their demands. It was the barest foundation of a plan, one that he had little clue of how to go about executing. It left an ugly taste in his mouth. Still, what else could he do but think?

Giving her a nickname might come across as overly cooperative. They wouldn’t expect that from someone who was trying so hard to become a hero. Because if they knew that he could be found at a hero course’s training camp despite being introduced as a general course student in the sports festival, they had to know. So he would have to stutter out some response to avoid giving her a nickname without provoking her, because he really didn’t want to see what she was like when she was irritated.

“You’re creeping him out, Toga,” Patchwork Villain said. “We want him to like us, not be scared you’re going to stab him in his sleep for not calling you some bullshit nickname.”

Izuku silently thanked him.

She huffed, dropped back down to the floor, and crossed her arms. “I just wanted a cute nickname since you guys never call me by the ones I come up with.”

To Izuku’s left, resting on the counter beside Marble Villain, the box TV flickered to life. At first, the screen showed nothing but black. It crackled with that static sound of an untuned radio. But then it flickered again, and a single word appeared in bold, white letters. Master. A slow voice sounded from the speaker, its controlled tone sending a chill down Izuku’s spine.

“Tomura, did you bring him back?”

…

Chapter Text

Izuku coughed and hacked, trying to rid his throat of the black liquid that must have come from one of Shigaraki’s master’s Quirks. It had the same consistency and revolting sewer taste as the Sludge Villain’s Quirk. It choked him the same way, too. Yet somehow it was far worse than back then, when he had thought he was going to die.

“I apologize for having to bring you here with Warping. It’s a rather unpleasant Quirk, I know.”

Izuku raised his head, wiping his (mostly) uninjured arm across his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the smell. He scanned the room in a second, taking note of anything of importance. There was nearly nothing in the room. It felt like the back room of a warehouse, cold and damp and uncomfortably exposing. Not a single light was on, leaving most of the room hidden in the dark, the only light at all streaming down from a skylight above Izuku’s head. It allowed a sliver of morning sunlight to light up the floor just behind him. At least, he thought it was the morning.

The ceiling would be impossible to reach, and therefore there would be no escaping from the skylight. A single exit sat quite a ways behind him. He might not be chained up any longer, but he didn’t think he’d be able to leave this room with anything but Warping.

The mention of Warping begged the question: where exactly were they? A warehouse of some sort, but how far was it from the bar? The warehouse could be halfway across the city or directly adjacent to it.

Shigaraki’s master sat in the center of the room, in a plush chair that creaked every time he shifted. His legs were crossed as if he were lounging casually, but he couldn’t be, because he was surrounded by a tangle of medical equipment. Two thin tubes protruded from the corners of his mouth, one on each side. Above his mouth was a mass of scar tissue, running from a sunken nose to up past his forehead. Izuku assumed it wrapped around his head by the way the mottled skin was visible on the sides of his neck. Where his eyes should have been, there was nothing but pale, distorted flesh.

His head tilted down to face Izuku, who had taken to sitting cross-legged. With no eyes, Shigaraki’s master must either be relying on hearing alone or had a Quirk that made up for his lack of sight. On the outside, his ears were just as scarred as the rest of his face. But he should still be able to hear, as long as his inner ear was intact. Izuku couldn’t know whether he had a Quirk to make up for his lack of eyesight without more information, unfortunately.

With one leg on top of the other and his hand on his chin, Shigaraki’s master didn’t seem to be too concerned with his clear state of decay. In fact, he was smirking like he’d already won whatever game he was playing, a game that only he knew the rules to. But then his mouth pulled into a saddened frown. Izuku’s heart stumbled.

There was something clearly manufactured about his expressions. Like they didn’t quite reach his eyes— or what would have been his eyes. Was it due to the scar tissue, which prevented the man’s eyes from confirming his face’s emotions? Was he carefully controlling the expressions he made? Izuku didn’t know, and if he didn’t know, if he couldn’t read him, he couldn’t predict the villain’s next move— Izuku couldn’t expect himself to put up a real fight.

He couldn’t even use the villain’s body language. Because, with the equipment attached to him, his motions were stiff and clearly took more effort than they should. And what if that crossing of his legs, that rigid hand on his chin, any other movement he made with his seemingly limited mobility, was calculated as well? Body language was a meaningful indication of someone’s mood in everyday life, where faking it serves no purpose. But it could easily be fabricated if one knew a fair amount.

All of the studying and watching videos, the reading articles and books to learn how to read a person and interpret body language was lost here. How was Izuku to figure out the threat that Shigaraki’s master posed? And how to respond? And what to do at all?

“It’s nice to meet you, Izuku Midoriya,” he said. His voice was slow, unwavering, monotone in a way that wasn’t really.

Izuku could feel his heart beating in his chest, hammering against bruised and broken ribs. But he couldn’t give in before they had even started. He couldn’t give in, because what would happen if he did? Admitting defeat was becoming a villain, becoming the monster everyone always said he would be. It would be letting down the few people who had supported his wish to transfer. Letting down the people who had let him take their Quirks and abandoning his dream. No, he couldn’t.

“I am All For One.”

Was that name a reference to his Quirk? All Quirks for him alone?

“I’m sure you know why you’re here. You see, I’ve taken quite an interest in you. Not just because of your Quirk, of course. You’re an intelligent young man. Your performance in the U.A. Sports Festival is proof of that.”

That sounded more like flattery than a fact he believed, considering Izuku hadn’t done anything particularly impressive during the festival. But, more importantly, how could he know what had happened during the festival? Could he truly see somehow? Or was he bluffing, hinting that he could actually see Izuku to scare him? Present Mic hadn’t commentated specifically enough to give a blind person a full picture of Izuku’s performance. Maybe someone had described what was going on to him?

“Even without using your Quirk, you managed to secure a position in the second event, then took first place. You fought well against trained hero course students. That is not a feat an average general course student is capable of.”

Was flattery going to be his tactic of choice, or was he merely testing to see how Izuku would respond to it? Should Izuku pretend to preen at the praise he didn’t believe, just because it might be better than another tactic All For One would try?

Intelligence hadn’t been the reason for his limited success in the sports festival. No, it had been his Quirk, unfortunately. And maybe that was All For One’s true strategy: to praise Izuku for his intelligence if he wasn’t intelligent enough to know better, or to praise Izuku for his Quirk. Was he attempting to set up for some argument about how Izuku’s Quirk was a gift? A gift wasted on someone who wanted to become a hero?

And had he mentioned the fact that Izuku was unlike a standard general course student to hint that Izuku didn’t belong there? That U.A. had wronged him by placing him in the general course with such a powerful Quirk? That U.A. was insulting him?

Izuku had to stop himself from scrubbing his hands over his mouth. Even if he was overanalyzing All For One’s words, he had no other choice— he couldn’t rely on expressions or body language. He could barely rely on diction. But no matter how much All For One planned, he still had to change Izuku’s mind. He still had to use his words to manipulate Izuku, so there would always be a deeper meaning hidden somewhere. That deeper meaning was all Izuku could cling to.

The hum of the machines hooked up to All For One and the steady drip of water from the corner of the room closest to Izuku were loud in the otherwise silent room. Had the warehouse been abandoned for a while? Or maybe the League couldn’t be bothered to fix the leak. Or maybe this was merely a temporary base.

“Tell me, did you plan to take the ten million point headband before the match began, and Katsuki Bakugou approaching you was merely a lucky coincidence? And you would have sought him out if he hadn’t?” All For One asked, his hand moving down from his face to the chair’s armrest. Izuku looked down, forcing himself not to analyze the motion. It wouldn’t help him. “Or was it a plan you came up with during the final moments of the match?”

He needed everything he said to craft the story of a boy who vehemently refused to become a villain slowly starting to lose his faith in his heroes. Slowly starting to see the benefits of becoming a villain. If he didn’t, and he only refused to listen to anything All For One said, the villain would push further. He would dig deeper into why Izuku’s Quirk was perfect for villainy. Why Izuku was perfect for villainy.

Honestly, Izuku didn’t believe it mattered how he answered All For One’s question. It was more to get him to talk than anything, most likely. No matter what he answered, Izuku would still be admitting he could come up with a relatively reliable plan under pressure. The question was likely a ploy to create a rough idea of how Izuku would attempt to tackle All For One’s discussions.

He’d been quiet for too long, and a long silence would indicate he was trying to plan. But that was what All For One had to be expecting, so Izuku supposed it mattered little. Perhaps his lack of immediate response was enough of an answer. Maybe asking a question, any question, was all the villain needed.

There were far too many factors to generalize Izuku’s answer into something about how he would go about resisting All For One. In their current situation, Izuku hadn’t had any time to formulate a plan before meeting him. But he had to know that Izuku would be thinking about their conversation after their discussion was over. So Izuku would be honest.

“It… I- It was, um… something I came up with during the match,” Izuku answered, voice soft.

“I see,” he said. His tone suggested he was impressed, but why would he be? “And your performance in the first event. Tell me, did you not use your Quirk because you didn’t believe it was necessary or because you aren’t fond of using it?”

Izuku sucked in a breath, and he hoped All For One hadn’t heard, because that sharp inhale was an answer in and of itself.

“This society is cruel,” All For One said, his voice quieter than before, like he was sympathizing with Izuku. But he wasn’t. Or maybe he was? “People take one look at your Quirk and call you villainous, yes?”

Izuku stared down at his hands. One rested limply in his lap in an attempt not to anger his elbow. With the other, he curled his fingers, nails digging into his knee until pain shot through both his kneecap and his arm.

Slowly, he nodded.

“I know. They used to say the same about my Quirk.”

Had All For One pinpointed his greatest weakness by analyzing his performance in the sports festival, or had he done it by drawing connections between his and Izuku’s lives? Had it been both? Izuku didn’t doubt the veracity of All For One’s claim at all, but he could call into question the extent of the similarities between them. They had the same Quirks, likely the same pasts to an extent, but they weren’t the same. Izuku wasn’t — and wouldn’t — become a villain. All For One was attempting to subtly convince Izuku to see them as comrades, but Izuku wouldn’t let him.

Vaguely, Izuku registered All For One had taken his nod for a response. Was it possible to see such a small action with a Quirk that allowed him to sense heat signatures? Or maybe he hadn’t seen it and had merely taken Izuku’s silence as a confirmation. Something so simple shouldn’t be so difficult to figure out. Izuku gritted his teeth.

“It isn’t fair, is it?”

All For One sounded sad. Sympathetic, even. For a second, Izuku believed him, believed All For One understood what he’d endured throughout his life, believed All For One could relate to him. But All For One was smart. He was trying to manipulate, and Izuku couldn’t let him. He was a villain, and Izuku was going to be a hero.

“Our Quirks are quite similar, if not the same. What do you call your Quirk?”

“Quirk… Transfer.”

All For One smiled, though it was from amusement, happiness, some feeling of victory, or anything else, Izuku wasn’t sure. He forced himself to look down at the crescents that he’d made in his knee. Unawareness was an itch under his skin he couldn’t scratch, one that was eerily similar to the tingling he felt when his burn scars acted up.

“My Quirk is known as All For One.”

Had he really named himself after his own Quirk?

“Tell me, Midoriya, how does your Quirk work? What do you know about it?”

It would be best to tell All For One everything, if their Quirks were the same. He would be able to tell if Izuku left out any details. Not that there was any reason to hide some part of his Quirk, unless he believed he could use it to escape somehow. But Izuku wouldn’t be sitting unchained if he could escape. No, if he attempted to escape, All For One would make him wish he hadn’t tried. Even if he seemed tied down to his chair with his medical equipment, he had to have a multitude of Quirks at his disposal to keep Izuku in place.

Izuku had to force himself to start, “I… Well, I can take anyone’s Quirk and… use it myself. And I can give... Quirks to someone else, if I want.”

“How many Quirks can you use simultaneously?”

As much as Izuku would have liked to say that he could only hold two at a time, thereby surprising All For One if he did somehow find a means of escape, he couldn’t. If he did, and All For One took the Quirks Izuku had without permission, he’d discover that Izuku could hold three without too much issue. Although he had asked how many Izuku could use, not how many he could hold. Still, attempting to exploit a loophole like that would likely not be something All For One would tolerate. That is, if All For One didn’t notice immediately and simply ask Izuku to explain further.

“I- I can only hold a few at a time. And… I can only actually use two, and even then just for five or six minutes. Any more and I collapse,” Izuku said. It was a small lie, but it was one that shouldn’t have any consequences.

All For One hummed. “Do you deactivate the Quirks you aren’t using?”

“De…activate?”

All For One was trying to help him, to make him stronger and therefore feel obligated to like the villain for helping him. Should he feign appreciation for All For One’s advice, as long as he kept it subtle? If All For One kept this up for the next couple of days, because it would take at least that long for the Pro Heroes to find him, Izuku could become more and more appreciative. A minuscule sign that he was growing more open to suggestion. A sign that All For One would pick up on easily.

“When you aren’t using a Quirk, it is best to deactivate it and let it lie dormant in your body until you need it. That strategy will greatly increase how many Quirks you can hold and use at one time,” All For One said. “I have many Quirks, enough to impress, I’m sure, but I can only hold about twenty at a time. Any more than that, and I will collapse, as you’ve said.”

What was the point of telling Izuku this? To intimidate him with the sheer amount of Quirks he could possess? To share more information about himself to seem more vulnerable — he did mention he would collapse if he hit his limit — like he was just another person? Like a potential ally divulging information? It was most logical to assume both, Izuku reasoned.

Still, the extent to which that information was true was entirely unknown. Roughly twenty Quirks sure seemed like enough, but there was no telling how long All For One had been training. It was possible he could hold fifty. The collapsing part, however, was most likely true. That information truly wasn’t useful, though, because All For One would never willingly reach that limit and put himself at risk. Who would? Izuku supposed he could push more Quirks into All For One, but without knowing how many he already had, adding two more Quirks to All For One’s inventory seemed like an idea with an incredibly low rate of anything beneficial.

“Our Quirks are special—”

Our? So his next tactic was another way of trying to bring them closer.

“—because they keep us from pushing past our bodies’ limits. We collapse before the Quirks we hold can permanently damage our brains. Do you know of the Nomu?”

“It… was at the USJ.”

It made sense that All For One would mention the Nomu. The USJ incident had been reported on for days. And though the news channels didn’t release much information, as U.A. hadn’t given it to them, Uraraka had filled many gaps. Realistically, All For One had to have guessed Izuku knew that the Nomu at the USJ had multiple Quirks. With that knowledge, it was obvious where Izuku’s brain would go. Attempting to avoid mentioning the Nomu in hopes Izuku would forget wouldn’t work. And All For One knew that.

“That’s right,” All For One praised. Was it praise? “But there are more than one. The Nomu have several Quirks, as you and I can,” he continued, “but their bodies can’t handle the strain of holding them. That is the reason they can’t think for themselves, hold a conversation, or perform any tasks without instruction. If our Quirks didn’t limit us, the strain of using multiple Quirks at once would chip away at our sanity until we too became something akin to a Nomu.”

Was All For One the one creating these monsters? He had to be.

Izuku froze. If normal people couldn’t handle the strain of multiple Quirks, had he put Shinsou in danger the day he’d given him Korikyu’s Quirk? Shinsou hadn’t appeared to feel any effects whatsoever, but what if that was just because he hadn’t been using Brainwashing at the same time? Could Shinsou have suffered brain damage at Izuku’s hands?

No, he couldn’t think about that now. He needed to stay focused, to determine the meaning behind All For One’s words, to figure out how best to respond to them.

While All For One’s information dump was interesting, and was something Izuku would have never discovered himself, it didn’t seem important. If his body would limit itself to avoid permanent brain damage, he had nothing to worry about.

All For One was feeding him information that wasn’t useful to him. Information that wouldn’t hurt the villain to make known. And maybe he was also trying to slip in how much he knew, suggesting his authority in a way that could be both intimidating and helpful if Izuku was willing to learn from him. And maybe he also wanted to talk about their Quirks as if they were one in an attempt to introduce Izuku to the idea of them being an us.

Did All For One have multiple angles in everything he said? Or were there none at all, and Izuku was merely overanalyzing? What was right? What was wrong? He didn’t know, and he wanted to tear at his skin until it was a bloody mess because of it.

But he needed the information. With it, he could pinpoint exactly how he needed to react. With the information dump, he could simply store away what All For One was revealing because it couldn’t prove detrimental to him if Izuku didn’t switch sides. With the intimidation tactics, he could merely be respectful. With the same Quirk argument, Izuku would need to slowly work into his words that he and All For One weren’t so different after all, but not yet.

“Though it may not seem like it, your Quirk is a gift,” All For One said. Izuku heard the sound of his plastic tubes knocking against one another as the villain moved and looked up. Then he forced himself to return to watching All For One’s feet. “This hero society has convinced you that our Quirks are evil. Your peers never thought you could be a hero, did they? And they told you as much.”

So that was his plan: to turn Izuku against hero society itself and eventually even the heroes who support it. To make himself look like the only one who could understand Izuku. The only one who could help Izuku destroy the world that was so cruel to him.

How should Izuku reply? He knew what All For One wanted to hear, and what he wanted to hear was the truth, for the most part. But he needed to put up a fight, or his reactions wouldn’t be believable.

“The… the teachers at U.A. said I could,” Izuku said softly.

“Is that all?”

Izuku paused. It was true that there were very few who had ever told him that he could be a hero— at least, not directly. But All Might had told him he could, and so had Mr. Aizawa, and Shinsou had to believe it too, even if he’d never said it. And Class 1-A and Class 1-B had let him use their Quirks willingly, not just without complaint but almost as if they wanted to help him. A few had even been grateful for his Quirk, hadn’t they?

“...It’s enough.”

“Are you certain they truly believe you can be a hero? Do they know you well enough to say such a thing? Or are they afraid of your power, encouraging you solely to keep you from becoming their enemy?”

That couldn’t be true.

Shinsou knew what it felt like to have a villainous Quirk, to be treated like he was destined to become a villain. Yet he wanted to be a hero— he was just like Izuku, to a certain extent. He wouldn’t believe Izuku could become a villain. And Uraraka, Todoroki, Kyarano, Korikyu, and the rest of Class 1-A and Class 1-B… they wouldn’t think like that. Well, maybe Izuku wasn’t so sure. If they hadn’t believed Izuku would become a villain before he had been captured, would they lose that confidence now that the villains were trying to convince him to switch sides? Or would they think Izuku was a spy for the League, and his kidnapping was staged so he could relay information and return as though he’d suffered in the League’s hands?

And All Might had said that he could become a hero, that he didn’t have a villainous Quirk, that he wasn’t destined to become a villain just because his Quirk required stealing. But when Izuku had explained his Quirk, the hero had grimaced. Still, he had said Izuku could gain acceptance into U.A. Had he truly suggested Izuku apply to supervise him, to see if Izuku showed any signs of defecting?

“I didn’t intend to upset you. I apologize for that.”

Izuku glanced up at him, the action making known the wetness on his cheek. When had he let any tears fall? He wiped the tears away as best he could with his good arm, unable to stop himself from sniffling as he tried to clear his nose. It was already stopped up. Had All For One seen him crying somehow, or had he just heard Izuku sniffling?

All For One tilted his head slightly, the corners of his mouth pointed downwards in a pitying frown. It looked genuine. But it couldn’t be, could it? It was just a false concern, nothing more than another tactic to manipulate him. It had to be.

“Is there someone in particular who came to mind when I said that?”

All For One might be grasping at something that didn’t exist, the same way Izuku grasped at a reason not to hurt himself occasionally. But unlike Izuku, All For One was successful. Spurred on by his victory, he’d taken a chance. Though Izuku supposed nothing bad would come to the villain if Izuku hadn’t thought of someone. But he had thought of someone, and that someone was the idol of thousands upon thousands.

Izuku could say no, and All For One wouldn’t be able to continue with this new lead he’d found. Or he could say yes, and he could tell All For One about All Might. It would let him win, let him feel as though he’d found Izuku’s weak point. That would be the best course of action. Sure, it would hurt, but who was to say All For One wouldn’t find something much worse if he said no? And, frankly, Izuku was nearly certain All Might had — at least partially — suggested U.A. to supervise him. Refusing to believe such a thing was enough motivation to once again try for U.A. But now, did he need to fool himself any longer?

“All... Might.”

“All Might,” All For One breathed.

Was that a hint of elation at the reward of a risk well-taken? Had All For One truly slipped? Or was Izuku’s mind manifesting things that weren’t there in some desperate attempt to take control of the conversation? Had he been wrong since the beginning, setting himself up for failure by attempting to stop himself from analyzing every stunted expression All For One made or every restricted move of his arms and legs? No, Izuku had to believe it was a fluke. He’d never met someone with such a calculated feel to everything they did. He’d never met someone who could hide their intentions and their thoughts from him so well.

“May I ask what he did?”

So polite, like he was giving Izuku a choice, but only because he knew Izuku would respond to his liking one way or another. Because Izuku could refuse now, but the topic would inevitably be brought up again. Or maybe All For One would press until he elaborated anyway, or he would simply find another topic to introduce. No— now was as good a chance as any for Izuku to say something, to let All For One latch onto something and use it to his advantage. All Izuku had to do was give a story but refuse to listen to, refuse to accept, the response.

He made a show of hesitating before he began, but it wasn’t much of an act. “I… was attacked by a villain in junior high, and All Might saved me… and I asked if I could be a hero with my Quirk. He- he didn’t react very well,” Izuku said, the truth bitter on his tongue. “But… he said I could be a hero.”

“Ah,” All For One said, “so he saw the strength you possessed and feared it without any consideration for your character. How patronizing of him, to preach anyone can be a hero, yet hesitate in the face of a boy whose Quirk didn’t suit his fancy.”

Izuku stared at the concrete floor, letting his fingernails sink into his thigh this time. He pressed until he swore he could feel them bleed. They hadn’t, but it sure felt like they had. It felt awful and soothing.

He’d done the right thing, allowing All For One the win, but did All For One have to draw the same conclusion Izuku had thought of all those months ago? And he’d done it instantly. Had there ever been any doubt that All Might hadn’t seen him as a potential villain and had taken steps to ensure he’d be there to stop it? And yet, when he’d visited Izuku during the sports festival, Izuku hadn’t sensed any falsities. Could Izuku still trust the conclusion he drew from reading people?

Yes, he could. Was this not exactly what All For One wanted? For Izuku to start doubting his heroes, his allies? With a deep inhale he hoped All For One couldn’t hear, Izuku lined his fingernails up with the crescents he’d already made and pressed farther.

Izuku’s shoulders shook as a few tears escaped his eyes. Attempting to blink them away only made them fall faster. He bit his tongue and breathed slowly to keep himself from making any noise, but then he remembered just where he was and what he needed to do. So he sniffled, forcing himself to make his sobs audible, exaggerated but still stemming from something real.

“The Number One Hero, the Symbol of Peace… the one who claims anyone can be a hero as long as they want to be. And yet he looked at you and saw a Quirk.”

Wasn’t that what All For One was doing? Had he not only taken an interest in Izuku because of his Quirk, at least originally? All For One saw himself in Izuku, not Izuku himself. How patronizing indeed.

Izuku continued to sniffle, but his tears had stopped. If All For One thought he could paint himself as the better person, Izuku would like to see him try.

“I will admit that I saw your Quirk’s potential as well. I will not deny that. However, it is the intelligence I can see in you that is most impressive. Any Quirk is only truly powerful in capable hands, but certainly yours. It is nothing in the hands of a fool. You are capable of wielding your Quirk to its full potential, Izuku Midoriya, whatever that potential may be. That is for you to decide.”

Izuku deflated, determination all but dissipated.

Was All For One telling the truth, or was this just another form of fabricated praise, aimed to have Izuku succumb to compliments that his peers had never spared him? No matter which it happened to be, Izuku wasn’t quite so sure it had the desired effect. Because, in reality, did he actually want to use his Quirk’s full potential? That could entail many things, some less egregious than others, but all far from ideal.

“And... that potential is stealing every Quirk that I think will be useful to me?” Izuku asked carefully. “Or… is it joining the League of Villains?”

All For One laughed. It was a short, sharp thing that seemed to echo off the walls that Izuku couldn’t see, even now, with his eyes adjusted to the dark. “You are smart enough to know what I would like from you; I will not insult you by pretending that is not the case. But I do not have the power to take away your free will. If you join the League, it will be your decision and your decision alone. But I am rather curious. Would you be willing to join us?”

Would it be better to come out strong? To say he’d never be a villain, then slowly pretend to see the benefits of joining them? Or would it be better to give him some sort of maybe, like he could be persuaded with the right argument?

“I… I’ll always want to be a hero,” was all he could say.

“Of course,” All For One said. Izuku refused to look at him, to attempt to decipher some expression on his face, to attempt to match his expression to a tone that could’ve been five different emotions at once. “Just think about what I have said, Midoriya. I will send you back shortly. But, before I do, I must heal your injuries. I apologize for not doing so earlier, but I’m afraid my regeneration Quirk can be taxing on an exhausted body. Especially one that has lost a significant amount of blood. May I ask how severe your injuries are?”

Either he couldn’t see at all, or he could see perfectly somehow and was merely acting. But did it even matter if he could see or not, if he was forever bound to a chair attached to medical equipment? Or could he move with the right portable instruments? For all Izuku knew, he could be fabricating his injuries entirely with some sort of illusion Quirk to make himself appear more vulnerable and less likely to be a threat.

“I… I’m not sure,” Izuku said.

If Izuku described fighting Muscular, that would prompt All For One to ask if he had taken Muscle Augmentation. He’d likely ask anyway, though. In fact, it was surprising he hadn’t yet asked Izuku if he’d taken any Quirks during the attack. But, if All For One wasn’t going to ask, Izuku wasn’t going to tell. Keeping a Quirk could help him escape. Protect himself if anything went wrong. Actually, no. If he described his fight with Muscular, and said he managed to take Bulky Villain’s Quirk as well, he’d be able to keep the Blade Tooth Quirk. Because All For One would surely want the Quirks back. But if he only believed Izuku had two, he’d only ask for two back. Hopefully.

“I- um… I had to fight Muscular, and I think he broke a few of my ribs? And, I… had to take his Quirk,” Izuku said, hesitating at the end. “And a Class 1-A student’s Quirk— he lost control of it, and it broke my arm. The bone is… it’s sticking out of my skin above the elbow.”

“I apologize for Muscular,” All For One said. “You’ve been through quite a lot. Though one would think a hero course student would be capable of controlling his own Quirk, your injury was ultimately caused by the League’s attack. So again, I apologize.” He paused. “Did you take any other Quirks?”

“...One. I- I didn’t recognize the villain, but she was carrying some sort of beam? I’m not sure what her Quirk does.”

“You must mean Magne. Her Quirk is Magnetism. It allows her to magnetize anyone within a 4.5 meter radius of her body; the beam was a magnet,” All For One said. “If you would allow me to, I would like to take those two Quirks from you, to lessen the strain on your body. It will allow you to take Super Regeneration. Though I’m afraid you’ll likely pass out from its effects. It saps very little energy relative to the severity of the injuries it can heal; however, in your current state, I don’t believe you have much energy to spare.”

Hadn’t Uraraka mentioned the Nomu from the USJ having an uber-powerful regeneration Quirk that allowed it to match up against All Might? All For One had to be giving Quirks to people to turn them into Nomu. But giving them copies of Quirks? Regeneration Quirks, especially of such a high caliber, are extremely hard to come by. It was unlikely that All For One had two. It wasn’t impossible, if All For One had specifically sought out regeneration Quirks sometime in the past. But maybe he had some sort of cloning Quirk?

All For One continued, “You see, Super Regeneration can only work if the Quirk is already in one’s possession at the time of the injury. If it is, it will heal any wound, no matter how fatal, as long as the user has a sliver of energy and enough blood to spare. However, if you do not possess the Quirk beforehand, it will do nothing.” He sighed. Was it contrived? “Therefore, though I hate to admit it, you will have to further injure yourself to trick the Quirk into activating.”

Izuku grimaced. The idea of hurting himself to activate the Quirk made his stomach swirl. But he would do it, because this was the reason the villains hadn’t bothered tending to his wounds properly. He had to do it if he wanted a functioning right arm again.

But, more importantly, if All For One took the two Quirks, would he be able to tell that Izuku had a third? If his Quirk was exactly like Izuku’s, then the answer was no. However, if it wasn’t, he might be able to tell that Izuku was lying. What would he do then? Honestly, probably not much. Not if he wanted Izuku to join him. And he seemed confident enough that Izuku wasn’t going anywhere— he had to have suspected Izuku had at least one Quirk when he’d warped Izuku to the warehouse, and yet he hadn’t asked until now.

But what if All For One took Quirk Transfer? To keep Izuku from ever using it against him? Unlikely, considering All For One wouldn’t go to the trouble of trying to corrupt Izuku if he merely wanted Izuku’s Quirk.

“You… you won’t take my Quirk, will you?” Izuku asked.

“Of course not.”

Izuku felt his muscles relax at the villain’s assurance, and with that realization, he dug his fingernails into his left palm. Why had he even asked the question when he had already come to an answer himself? Why was he letting himself be reassured by a villain, and why had he asked that to begin with?

That question would’ve been perfect, too, if he had wanted to know how All For One’s Quirk worked. Maybe he would take all of Izuku’s Quirks at the same time and give certain ones back, or maybe he would only take a specific one. But it hadn’t been perfect, because that hadn’t been Izuku’s intention. He’d only stumbled upon an intelligent question out of a desperate need to keep Quirk Transfer, of all things.

“Come to me,” All For One instructed. Izuku hesitated, then slowly got to his feet, struggling and stumbling but luckily not falling. “I must warn you, my Quirk can be rather unpleasant. It varies depending on how a person’s body handles stress. For you, you may not even feel its effects. After all, the Quirks you hold are not your own, nor have they been in your possession for long.”

Izuku walked over to him, one reluctant step at a time, until he was not a meter from All For One’s chair. Up close, All For One was an overwhelming presence. Almost as if he were taking up the area surrounding his chair and sucking up all of the air in the room to keep Izuku from breathing. Now that he’d stopped, Izuku wasn’t sure if he’d be able to move again. His feet felt welded to the floor, like one wrong move would be his undoing. All For One had the same presence as Bakugou, though far worse, because Izuku knew how to behave around Bakugou. He knew how to predict Bakugou’s actions.

“Could… could I not use my Quirk? It- it doesn’t take any energy to use it. It doesn’t feel like anything. When I take a Quirk, the person can’t feel it.”

“I’m afraid I cannot allow that. You understand why, I am sure.”

And Izuku did, so he said, “I… I don’t have the strength... to try anything.”

All For One smiled. “If you managed to steal my Quirk, with it would come every Quirk in my possession. They are all tied to my original Quirk. Can your body hold over twenty Quirks?”

“You… could be lying.”

“I could be.”

Izuku looked down, lips pressed in a tight line.

All For One lifted his arm slowly until it was level with Izuku’s forehead, though his fingertips couldn’t quite reach. Izuku forced himself to keep his eyes open as he leaned forward. The villain’s hand was shaking, but Izuku couldn’t decipher if it was an act or not. It was better that he didn’t try. So he stared just beside All For One’s head into the black of the other side of the room, holding his breath until he remembered he needed to breathe, and then inhaled air that felt as if it were too much and too little at the same time. But, when cold fingers touched his forehead, Izuku’s already racing heartbeat spiked. His eyes darted in every direction, searching for an exit he knew he wouldn’t find.

Then, all at once, something was being pulled from his body. All For One’s Quirk seemed to suck out his very organs. Just the two Quirks, Izuku hoped, slithered through his body and up into All For One’s fingertips. When the second wave had finished, and it was over, his knees buckled. He barely felt himself hit the floor.

“You now have Super Regeneration,” All For One said.

Izuku didn’t respond.

Looking down at his arm, the bone still jutting out with both dried and oozing blood abutting it, Izuku wanted to gag. He might be used to the sight of his own blood, but that blood was often more calming than concerning. This was something entirely different. This was a bone out of place, and to make himself feel better, he would have to hurt himself. But it wasn’t going to be the kind of helpful hurt that he was familiar with.

With a deep breath and his teeth clamped together, Izuku reached his hand to the bone. Closing his eyes, he jerked it sideways. He inhaled a sharp breath that burned his windpipe. His body fixed itself, skin crawling over a bone that was pushing itself down and back into place. Within a second, all that remained to show he’d been injured was the patch of dried blood caked above his elbow.

Relief flooded through his arm, and then he was gone.

…

Chapter Text

When Izuku awoke, it was to the feeling of Toga sitting in his lap. Or leaning over him, really, since the metal cuffs that kept his hands pinned in front of him were in her way.

The initial shock and instinctual jerk that came with the contact had instantly shaken the fog of sleep from his mind, at least. He hadn’t gotten much of that. Even with the level of exhaustion that came from Super Regeneration and everything else, he had been sleeping in a bar full of villains. His light sleep had been interrupted three times. Once just because, once from Shigaraki complaining about something, and once from Patchwork Villain sneezing.

Toga shoved a protein bar under his nose, grinning with all of her teeth and giggling. Izuku pressed his head against the back of his chair in an attempt to separate them, but she just leaned closer.

“Come on, Izu-chan, you need to eat,” she said. “Gotta get your strength back up so you can break your ribs some more! Then you’ll heal.” She grinned even wider, sticking her tongue out between her pointed teeth. “And I’ll get to see you get all beat up.”

Skin crawling, Izuku kept his eyes open to watch her movements as she offered the protein bar to him. If she tried to stab him, watching wouldn’t exactly help him defend himself when he was chained. But it gave him a little reassurance. Even if it made the shame of being fed that much worse.

But Izuku couldn’t be upset with her presence. Or the presence of the other villains. He’d much rather spend time with them than All For One, simply because they were all easy to read. It was comforting, seeing people display obvious emotions.

But her words also reminded Izuku— he wasn’t any closer to discovering where the bar was or where the warehouse was in relation. The villains likely received information about All For One transferring his regeneration Quirk over the TV, so he couldn’t use that.

Either the bar was close to the warehouse, where the villains could have carried him back after he’d used Super Regeneration, or he’d managed to sleep through All For One’s Warping Quirk. He supposed it didn’t matter much where the two buildings were located, but it would be nice to know. Depending on where they were, he could predict how difficult he would be to find.

Or maybe he would be trapped with the League forever, sentenced to a life of trying not to listen to All For One. With that, what would become of Izuku? Would everyone see him as a villain? Would he become a villain?

He let his head hit the back of his chair and stared ahead at the bottles on the shelves. All For One was right— All Might truly had seen his Quirk and told him to go to U.A. to keep an eye on him. Izuku could feel his eyes watering, but he blinked them away, pretending he’d gotten something in his eye in case any of the villains were watching him.

No, All For One was manipulating him, twisting facts to suit his needs. From now on, whatever he said, Izuku would hear, but he wouldn’t listen. No matter what All For One said, he would stamp down any doubt the villain planted in his mind. He had to. He would show everyone that nothing would break him. He would walk away from All For One, from the League of Villains, and keep working towards becoming a hero. And, just maybe, he could prove to the U.A. teachers and students, to All Might, to the public, that he would never become a villain. Even after this.

“So, Izu-chan, which would you like to do? Shigaraki’s master said you could try to use that regeneration Quirk here or back when you visit him later. Please say now! I wanna see.”

Patchwork Villain and the other villains, excluding Shigaraki, turned to look at him. Izuku supposed it came down to how well he felt, as neither option would create an opportunity to escape. Not in the state his body was in. And, honestly, it was in his best interest to break his ribs as soon as he could. It would stop them from aching, a constant throbbing pain that flared whenever he shifted in his seat. Not to mention it would probably put him back to sleep, which would be preferable to digging himself into an inescapable hole with his overthinking.

“I- um… I think I can do it now.”

The villain with the black and grey mask covering his head narrowed his eyes, the action only visible by the way the mask conformed to the change. His villain name was Twice, from what Izuku had gathered. He was closest to Toga. But he still got along well with the others, for the most part, if the way he was playing a card game at the counter with Patchwork Villain and Marble Villain — Mr. Compress — was any indication. (Though Patchwork Villain tended to be a bit… critical of him. And everyone.)

Twice’s Quirk was an unknown, just like most of the other villains. Though Izuku had to wonder if his Quirk was related to his name. Or maybe it was just a reference to the strange way he answered questions twice, and usually those two answers contradicted each other. It was almost as if he had two personalities residing within one body. Both were easy to read, thankfully. The pitch of their voices and their body languages were entirely different, so Izuku had no trouble pinpointing when the switch was made.

“Don’t try anything. We don’t want to hurt you, but we’ll have to if you do,” Twice said. “Or feel free to try something! We’ll have fun putting you back in that chair!”

“Twice, stop threatening him,” Patchwork Villain drawled. His name had yet to be spoken. “You make it so hard for people to like you.”

“That’s not very nice!” Twice said. “You wanna fight?”

Patchwork Villain sighed, then moved around the bar to get to Izuku. Toga backed up to give him room, and he unlocked Izuku’s cuffs first with a key that he kept in an inner pocket in his coat. Toga bounced on the balls of her feet, clearly excited. Izuku hoped she wouldn’t jump at him as soon as Patchwork Villain undid the straps around his torso. When the last strap fell away, Patchwork Villain moved back. He raised an arm to block Toga’s path, and she pouted but didn’t try to sneak past him.

“Try anything, and I’ll melt the flesh from your bones,” Patchwork Villain said.

Izuku flinched at the familiar threat, nodding repeatedly.

“Now, how do you want me to break your ribs?”

“Oh, can I please do it, Dabi? Please?” Toga asked. So Patchwork Villain’s name was Dabi.

“You just want to stab him. That’s not going to help,” he said. He turned to Izuku. “Lift your arms if you don’t want me to break those too.”

He lifted his arms until they were parallel to the ground, elbows bent because it was slightly less exposing. Battling between wanting to close his eyes to save himself from complete shame and wanting to keep them open instinctually, he eventually decided to keep them open. Not five seconds later, a boot drove into the right side of his ribcage. He could feel the heel slot between two ribs. Pain erupted in his side, and then the other, but it disappeared nearly instantly as Super Regeneration did its job.

But Izuku hadn’t regained enough energy from his sporadic sleep.

…

Chapter Text

“It’s good to see you again, Midoriya,” All For One said.

Izuku stared up at him, squinting as his eyes adjusted as best they could to the dim light of the room. It was darker than it had been earlier— the sun was starting to set. The strange lighting strained his eyes as it streamed into the room, but he couldn’t do much about it.

“Have you put any more thought into our last conversation?”

While Izuku had put more thought into that conversation, if it could be called that, it wasn’t exactly what All For One was looking for. Or maybe it was, and he intended to decipher what Izuku had thought of by his response. Maybe All For One expected Izuku to have steeled himself after their first conversation so that he would be ready to fight during their next. What else would he be expecting, really? The question seemed more obligatory than anything else. No matter what Izuku said, the truth was obvious. Izuku’s response would solely be a reflection of how he was handling his words during their conversation.

“I still want to be a hero,” Izuku said quietly.

“I expected no less.” There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but Izuku didn’t know if it was bitter, amused, masking anger, or something else. It looked amused, or maybe upset? Scowling, Izuku looked away, determined not to confuse himself. “Have you used Super Regeneration to heal yourself any more?”

“My, um… my ribs,” Izuku said.

All For One hummed. “Is there anywhere else you believe needs to be healed with Super Regeneration?”

“N- no, sir.”

The villain leaned to one side of his chair and rested his arm on the armrest, and Izuku had to look down at his feet.

“That is good to hear,” All For One said. “Now, tell me, Midoriya, why were you afraid I would take your Quirk yesterday? If you believe it to be so terrible, why wish to keep it?”

Izuku stiffened. As much as he wanted to say taking his original Quirk would leave him powerless, unable to defend himself, he knew that wasn’t it. No matter how much time he’d spent as a child wishing his Quirk away, he didn’t want Quirk Transfer gone. He was attached to it, despite all that it had done.

“You were taught to hate your Quirk, yet you still want to keep it. And you should. Society has taught you that it is villainous, and therefore you must suppress it to be accepted. But, even when you did suppress it, locked it away and never used it, they still didn’t accept you, did they?”

Had All For One managed to guess that correctly based on his own experience, or was Izuku that predictable? Because he couldn’t possibly have known that as a fact.

“...No.”

“All because you were born with a Quirk that they were afraid of. It didn’t matter if you never used it. It didn’t matter how good of a person you were. Not even All Might, the man who claims everyone can be a hero, saw you as a person once you revealed your Quirk to him.”

It was the beginning of their conversation— the time when Izuku would be strongest. The time when he would be most likely to refute All For One’s claims, before the conversation continued and stripped away Izuku’s confidence little by little. Well, that was what he was hoping to convey.

“But,” Izuku began, afraid of how the hesitance in his voice wasn’t at all an act, “if I become a hero, everyone will see that I only use my Quirk to help people.”

“Are you sure?” All For One asked. He tilted his head down. If he had eyes, Izuku was sure they’d be boring into his own. Digging both hands’ fingernails into his thighs, he forced himself to keep his eyes trained into the dark beyond All For One’s head. “Or will they still be afraid? Will they ever trust you with their lives?”

Would people ever be able to see past his Quirk, as long as he proved himself time and time again with his actions? Or would they see him the way his peers in junior high school always had? It was true that no matter what he’d done, no matter how often he wore gloves, no matter how frequently he had said he’d never take a Quirk, they’d never changed the way they looked at him.

What if the students of Class 1-A and 1-B were afraid of him? And he couldn’t read anyone as well as he thought he could? Had he been too confident in himself? Were Uraraka and Kyarano and Todoroki and everyone else afraid of him?

Shinsou and Korikyu weren’t afraid of him… they couldn’t be, with the way they’d offered their Quirks without Izuku even implying he needed a Quirk at all. Not with the way Korikyu had said Izuku was the best person for Quirk Transfer because he’d never abuse its power. But many of the members of Class 1-A and 1-B had done the same, and maybe Izuku didn’t truly know how they felt about him, so maybe he didn’t know what Shinsou and Korikyu thought either. What if they had only offered to keep Izuku on their side, or what if Izuku had been fooling himself all along, feeding himself lies about their tones and expressions and postures because he wanted to believe U.A. was different, because he wanted to believe people could trust him, and everything he had believed since—

“Can you calm your breathing, Midoriya? I apologize.”

Izuku’s eyes flashed up to him, and it took a moment to understand what All For One had said. Indeed, his heart was racing, and he couldn’t quite control his breathing. What was he doing, getting overwhelmed? He didn’t have time for that.

“Still… I don’t see how becoming a villain would change that,” Izuku argued.

“The League is more than a band of villains. We are only called villains because we oppose the heroes. The ones who deem us unworthy because we cannot fit into the mold they have created. Our goal is simple; we will build a world where everyone, no matter the Quirk, is accepted.”

“And… how will you do that?”

“Our current society is rotten. While some are praised for their Quirks, others are condemned. Yet neither has any say in the matter. Why are we stigmatized while others are idolized?” All For One asked. He’d raised his voice slightly, but Izuku refused to analyze it. “To rebuild a structure, it must first be torn down.”

Was that All For One’s true goal, or was that what he wanted Izuku to believe his goal was? He hadn’t included what his “rebuilding” would consist of, but he was hoping for a world where Quirks were all viewed equally, or at least villainous Quirks like theirs wouldn’t be so hated. But it would never work out that way. They were considered villainous for a reason.

No matter what justice All For One claimed he would bring about, his plan was still to destroy hero society— society itself. Tearing down hero society would be the loss of public faith in Pro Heroes. It would be the villains’ overpowering of any hero who opposed them until nobody remained. Which meant at the top of their ‘to kill’ list was All Might, the pinnacle, the paragon of a Pro Hero. The Symbol of Peace. But no amount of blood, from Pro Heroes or civilians, was worth spilling to change society.

“Is that… what you’re going to do to me?”

“Of course not,” All For One said. “You, Izuku Midoriya, are not rotten like our society. No, you can be its savior. You have the power to create a new society— one that judges people on their characters and not their Quirks.”

If Izuku had never appeared, never demonstrated his Quirk during the sports festival, who would have been this so-called savior? Not All For One, surely, because why would he wish to replace himself? Was Izuku to replace Shigaraki? Was his Quirk truly that fitting that All For One would choose Izuku over his student?

Was this plan truly what All For One was striving for, or was it what he thought Izuku would be most likely to accept? Could he really believe Shigaraki would become the world’s savior? What was Izuku missing?

“I- I… can’t do that as a villain,” Izuku said. His fingernails pricked at his thighs but didn’t dig in. “I can only do that as a hero.”

“Are you sure?”

“Rebuilding society… It won’t result in judging based on character. It’ll be…” Izuku trailed off, frowning. “…It’ll be civilians desperate for a sign of hope, desperate for someone to oppose the villains who killed their heroes.”

“Exactly.”

Izuku froze. “How… how would that…?”

“The League of Villains would be responsible for the destruction of society as we know it. You will never have to take part in the destruction. No, you would never appear to the public until society has been properly torn down, its foundations and all,” All For One said. “We would appear afterwards as saviors, the new hope for humanity. Symbols of hope, if you will. Together, we would save the public from the League and create a world where people trust heroes with Quirks like ours.”

All For One wanted Izuku to become a false hero, one who was allied to villains without the world’s knowledge. Did he believe that would satisfy Izuku’s desire to be a hero?

Where was his X-ACTO knife when he needed it?

Izuku could pretend to slowly succumb to All For One, eventually giving in and joining the League, only to truly overthrow them when their plan succeeded. No, he couldn’t do that. Joining the League, even if only to betray them in the future, meant allowing them to kill countless Pro Heroes and maybe even All Might. In the state All Might was currently in, killing him wouldn’t be too difficult with enough Nomu.

“I… I can’t do that,” Izuku said. “I’ll change their opinions as a real hero.”

“Do you truly believe that will work?”

It was a simple question, really, but tears pricked at Izuku’s eyes all the same. And, soon enough, they were falling. With how cold the room already was, they seemed to freeze to his cheeks. He stabbed his fingernails into his thighs until he could feel warm blood pool around his fingertips and work its way down his leg. Taking a hopefully silent breath, he closed his eyes and focused on the pain.

When he eventually moved his hands away, he found Super Regeneration had healed around his fingernails, leaving permanent crescent-shaped indents in his flesh.

What if Izuku never transferred into the hero course? Or what if he did, but he never debuted as a hero, denied before he could start because his Quirk was too much for everyone to see past? What if, after the sports festival, people believed he wanted to become a hero, but that was stripped away because the League had kidnapped him? Would they always believe Izuku might be secretly allied to the League of Villains after this? If he ever escaped? Would he ever escape?

“Did you never see the response to your performance in the U.A. Sports Festival?”

Izuku jerked his head up to look at All For One’s face. No, he hadn’t checked— he’d been too afraid of what he’d find. But Shinsou had. He’d said that a few people voiced their concerns about their Quirks, Izuku a little more than Shinsou, but most hadn’t had anything negative to say. Had Shinsou lied to him to make him feel better? Izuku didn’t think he was the type to, but maybe he didn’t know Shinsou as well as he’d thought.

“They applauded your skill, for a general course student. That is, until the third event, when they came to understand exactly what your Quirk was.”

Why had he thought things would be different at U.A.?

Izuku bent over, letting his hair fall over his eyes, and sobbed. Covering his mouth with his hand did nothing to silence his pathetic gasps for air, so he let his body shake from both the force of his sobs and the chill that had overtaken his limbs.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to push you so far. I simply wanted you to understand,” All For One said, the empathy obvious but not obviously real or fake.

All For One didn’t warp him back to the bar until Izuku had composed himself as best he could, at least.

…

Chapter Text

Hitoshi stood at the side of Uraraka’s hospital bed. He wrinkled his nose; the strong scent of antiseptic burned every time he inhaled. Everything was too white, and it hurt his eyes. Hospitals had never really been his thing. Not that they were anyone’s.

Todoroki and Kyarano were behind him, silent as the rest of 1-A and 1-B left the room. He’d already convinced those two to go along with his plan. Actually, they hadn’t needed much convincing at all. It was the others who’d already recovered that had tried to stop him, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. Not when Midoriya was the one in danger.

The footsteps of 1-A and 1-B finally faded.

“How’re your injuries?” he asked.

Uraraka looked down at her hands, which were pale and shaking. Like she didn’t have full control over them. Both her arms, from her wrists to the short sleeves of her hospital gown, were bandaged. She and the frog girl had run into a villain, apparently. The villain’d managed to stab them each a couple times. And take their blood. Something to do with her Quirk.

“I’m starting to feel better, I think,” she said.

“Join us,” Hitoshi said.

“What he means is we’re going to rescue Midoriya,” Kyarano said, shoving Hitoshi away with a furry hand on his face. “So if your injuries aren’t too bad, we’d like you to come with us. We’ll be leaving tonight at seven, and we’re meeting on the sidewalk outside the main doors.”

Hitoshi glared at Kyarano before turning back to Uraraka. “Get in, get Midoriya, get out.”

He left it at that, praying she’d show up when he, Kyarano, Todoroki, and the creation girl met up later. And the engine boy, because he apparently needed to supervise them. Whatever. The more people who came, the more likely they wouldn’t die. Because there was a chance they’d have to fight some villains.

And more people would mean more eyes to search for Midoriya when they got to wherever the creation girl’s tracking device led them. He’d admit he was impressed by that quick thinking. Putting a tracking device on one of those Nomu monsters wasn’t something to scoff at. Because apparently there were more than one of those things. Hopefully they wouldn’t be fighting one of them later. If they fought anyone at all.

He walked past Kyarano and Todoroki and out the door. Something caught his eye. On the other side, leaning against the wall, was Bakugou. Hitoshi scowled. Was it so hard not to stick his nose into people’s business? Hitoshi was pretty good at it.

“I’m going with you.”

Hitoshi would’ve thought the asshole wouldn’t want Midoriya back. Or maybe not. With Midoriya gone, who’d he abuse?

“No,” Hitoshi said. Bakugou glared at him, and Hitoshi was happy to match it. “Why?”

“That’s none of your business,” Bakugou said. That wasn’t Hitoshi’s business, but Hitoshi’s business was his?

“What’d y’do t’him?”

“You don’t know anything about this,” Bakugou snapped. He took a breath. “Fuck off. I’m going whether you like it or not.”

“Y’ever beat him? Burn him?”

Bakugou took a threatening step towards him. Scowling, Hitoshi did the same. If Hitoshi’s other arm wasn’t in a damn sling, he might’ve punched the guy.

“Shut up.”

Bakugou’s eyes glazed over, dulling from red to a pale pink.

“Step back.”

Bakugou did as he was told. Hitoshi released his Quirk. With Todoroki, Kyarano, and Uraraka listening, he couldn’t ask what he wanted to. Hitoshi wasn’t terrible enough to reveal something Midoriya clearly didn’t want revealed. He’d already said too much anyways. But anyone with working eyes should’ve been suspicious. Should’ve already been asking those questions about Bakugou. Some heroes they were going to be if they hadn’t noticed something so obvious.

“Did you just brainwash me, you fu—”

“Walk down the hall, turn right, take five steps, and stop.”

Once again, Bakugou followed Hitoshi’s instructions. He walked to the end of the hall, turned right, and disappeared behind the corner. Hitoshi waited a second, then released his brainwashing.

“What exactly did Bakugou do to Midoriya?” Kyarano asked, stopping beside him. She leaned forward and twisted her head to look up at him, ears perked up. “And if you don’t want Bakugou to go with us, why’d you let him go?”

“‘S not obvious?” Hitoshi asked.

No answer, just a tilt of her head. He sighed. Glancing down the hall, he saw Bakugou storming his way back to them. Not wanting to deal with him anymore, Hitoshi gave Kyarano and Todoroki a lazy wave and headed in the opposite direction.

…

Chapter Text

All For One warped him back to the bar when he’d finally run out of tears, so at least Izuku could be grateful that he wouldn’t need to endure any extra shame from crying in front of the other villains.

Even though All For One had only done so because he’d accomplished his goal— Izuku was nearly certain the villain didn’t care about his pride in any way. He’d reduced Izuku to a sobbing mess, and he’d left Izuku to wallow in his own self-reflection because he knew Izuku would think himself into an inescapable corner. All under the guise of being considerate by waiting for Izuku to collect himself before sending him back. Or maybe he was simply being considerate?

If the audience had responded to his Quirk so terribly after the sports festival of the country’s top hero school, who was to say things would ever change? All Might, his 1-C classmates, maybe Classes 1-A and 1-B, and those who’d watched the sports festival… they were all afraid of his Quirk. Afraid of something he had absolutely no say in.

It wasn’t as if he’d asked to be born with it.

He worked every day to improve himself, training his body to become a hero capable of truly helping people. Studying, sparring, training his Quirk— he’d done so much to transfer into the hero course. But if they would never see him as anything but a villain, then what was he working toward?

Was it so wrong to ask people to judge him not by Quirk Transfer but by his character? He’d repressed his Quirk for years and only used it when necessary— except maybe during the sports festival, but Shinsou had been right. He’d needed it to win. He’d needed it to ensure his teammates a place in the next event. No, he’d never done anything to make it seem as though he wanted to take another person’s Quirk for his own gain. Should he have apologized publicly after the sports festival? Would that have changed anything?

He hadn’t even used his Quirk to take the hero course’s entrance exam. Even All Might had said he couldn’t fault Izuku for that decision, but how much did All Might’s opinion matter, if he’d looked at Izuku and had only seen what his Quirk could be capable of?

With his hands bound, Izuku could only clamp his teeth down on his tongue. Super Regeneration fixed every bite he took.

He was starting to revert back to the person he’d been in junior high, when he had stood on the ledge of the roof of the school building, wondering if it would be better if he took that final step. If he had a moment alone and his X-ACTO knife in hand, he wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to press a little too hard. He wouldn’t have to worry much about it with Super Regeneration. Or maybe he should worry, because it would prevent him from doing what he’s wanted to do more than once.

If the public couldn’t spare the time to look a little deeper, to ask themselves why he was attending the best hero school in Japan, what more could he do? His future didn’t lie entirely in his hands, though he wished it could. (Unless he took matters into his own hands. He could do what everyone had told him to do, what they’d been implying when they left red spider lilies on his desk.) What did everyone think— that he was going to U.A. just for fun? That he was the U.A. traitor who was leaking information to the League?

Maybe their society truly was rotten if nobody could spare the time to understand that all he’d ever wanted to be was a hero.

What?

If his arms weren’t bound, he would punch the wooden floor beneath him until the bones in his hand shattered. And then he’d do it again. Super Regeneration would heal it too quickly to do any good, after all. Or maybe he could try to suppress the Quirk like All For One had told him he could.

All he could do was move his head, but slamming the back of his head into his chair would draw the attention of Dabi, Twice, and Mr. Compress, who were caught up in a heated card game. (Toga had been gone when he’d arrived.) So Izuku bit the inside of his cheek until it bled, forcing Super Regeneration down until his body no longer tried to heal itself. So he could suppress Quirks.

How could he think such a thing? The world was what it was, and if Izuku wanted to prove himself, he would do it without any massacring involved. He couldn’t give up on a world he didn’t yet know for certain wouldn’t accept him. Maybe they were wary of him after the sports festival, and maybe they’d accuse him of being a traitor, but he could convince them with time. He wasn’t a villain, and he wasn’t going to become one. There was still a chance he could become a hero.

What did it even matter if nobody trusted him, even after saving hundreds or even thousands as a Pro Hero? If he ever became one. Even if he failed to debut, even if he failed to transfer, he would find a way to live with that. Anything was better than becoming the monster everyone thought he was or would become.

Izuku bit down even harder, adding more blood to the already foul taste in his mouth.

How was he already losing?

Thinking about their conversation was what All For One wanted Izuku to do, so he would do the opposite. He would convince himself that their conversation had proven nothing — because it hadn’t — and set it aside. Planning his best course of action would be far more beneficial than thinking of nothing, but if it led to any doubt that he couldn’t or shouldn’t become a hero, it would do more harm than good.

He scanned the room, searching for something to occupy his mind. In the corner, Dabi was threatening to set Twice on fire for cheating. Probably best not to interrupt them. Toga was still absent, and Izuku wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not.

In the end, Izuku chose to analyze the three villains sitting to his left, who were still arguing about the correct way to play their game. Sure, maybe it was simply to prove he could still analyze at all, but was that so terrible?

For so long, he had correctly predicted what actions Bakugou would take. For a few months, he’d even gone against his instincts to test his analyses. He would go against whatever he thought would let him walk away with minimal injuries, experimenting to see how Bakugou would react. Later, he would set up a situation as similar as possible to the first. Then he would test what he would have liked to do, and then he compared the two reactions. Each time, the second try had been the one to leave Izuku less damaged.

He had done similar experiments on the rest of his junior high classmates. He tested whether they would respond to his actions with taunts, carvings on his desk, suicide-baiting, distancing themselves from him (more than usual), or something else. His predictions had been wrong a few times in the beginning. But, by the end of his junior high school career, he hadn’t guessed incorrectly for nearly a year.

In the beginning, Izuku had even predicted Shinsou’s reactions to simple things. He’d never been wrong. Shinsou tended to be extremely predictable. Korikyu was less so, but still not much of a challenge. Izuku still often predicted their reactions, both from instinct and to assure himself that his predictions were accurate.

So, to a certain extent, they had to be accurate. At least when unrelated to his Quirk. Maybe Izuku couldn’t predict how someone would react to his Quirk, but that wasn’t what he would be doing here. All he wanted was to analyze the personalities of each of the villains sitting on the floor next to him. Then, when the Pro Heroes came to rescue him, he could at least provide something useful to U.A. He’d already caused them enough trouble. The least he could do was give them detailed reports on the villains he’d met.

Even if none of the U.A. teachers trusted him. He wasn’t going to withhold information on villains whose goal was to destroy hero society just because his school had the same concerns about him as everyone else. They might not listen to a word he said because they didn’t trust him, but he’d still do it. Anything to prove he hadn’t allied with the villains.

First came Dabi, the villain covered in third-degree burn scars who Izuku guessed was in his early twenties. His burned skin was nearly black, covering the lower half of his face and down his neck, under his eyes, and most of his hands up to where his coat sleeves stopped just above his elbow. The rest of his skin was covered by his outfit, complete with a long black coat styled to have a patchwork design. Izuku doubted Dabi’s burns weren’t contained to just what he could see.

Izuku was fairly certain that Dabi was the one who had caused the blue fire back at the training camp. If his threat to Twice was any indication. Fire-related Quirks weren’t necessarily uncommon, but Kurogiri’s presence made him think the villains from the attack had all come to the bar. If that were the case, then his burns were most likely caused by his own Quirk. (Sure, if his body was weak to fire, it could’ve been someone else’s doing. Even a house fire’s doing. But if he was weak to fire, burning himself with his own Quirk was most likely.)

It wasn’t unheard of to have someone’s body unsuited for their Quirk, but it was rarely so damaging. Most just required a support item to keep them under control when not in use. What was most surprising, however, was how willing Dabi was to continue using his Quirk when it would damage him so badly. Or maybe his fire had destroyed his nerves so completely he no longer felt any pain on the burned patches?

But Izuku had one speculation that he believed was a bit more important. He was fairly certain that Dabi was Todoroki’s older brother.

He’d thought it strange when Dabi had singled out Todoroki right before stepping into the portal when Izuku had been kidnapped. At first, he had assumed it was merely a challenge between a villain and a hero course student with similar Quirks. But that made little sense, considering he’d specifically referred to Todoroki by his first name.

And that was when it occurred to him: Todoroki and Dabi’s Quirks matched.

They both had fire-related Quirks, yes, but the similarities ran deeper. Endeavor had married Rei Himura, a woman with an ice manipulation Quirk, in hopes of creating the perfect combination of fire and ice. He had gotten that with Todoroki. But who was to say his previous children hadn’t shown signs of a combination between the two on a more self-destructive level?

As far as the public knew, the Todoroki family consisted of three children. It would have been four, had the eldest not died at a young age from an unspecified training accident. (Being a Top Ten Pro Hero, much of Endeavor’s life was public.) Touya Todoroki had been his name, though his death was quickly forgotten by the media. Supposedly, he had lost control of his fire. Because it had burned at such a high temperature, his bones had turned to ash— in other words, no remains were ever found.

Dabi could so easily be Touya, with a body that was suited for an ice-type Quirk like Rei Todoroki’s. Maybe Touya had been treated the same way as Todoroki— because his fire burned hotter than Endeavor’s, he would’ve had potential. Maybe he had disappeared and had become a villain who resented his father and other heroes as well. Besides, Touya had been a year older than Fuyumi Todoroki, Todoroki’s older sister. That would make him twenty-three, which fit.

Though Dabi’s hair color didn’t match Touya’s bright red, he could have dyed it. His eyes were the same color Touya’s had been. And, while it was difficult to picture Dabi’s face without the burn scars, Izuku could see the same basic shape as Endeavor’s. The same wide jaw, same undefined chin, same angled eyes.

Of course, nothing above could confirm that Dabi was Touya Todoroki. But his theory wasn’t baseless.

Izuku snuck a glance at the card game still going on, though he believed it was a different one now. He couldn’t tell, though, considering he wasn’t familiar with any card games except solitaire.

Before he could turn his attention back to analyzing another villain, Izuku felt the telltale signs of All For One’s Warping crawling up his throat. Accepting the horrible sludge as it blocked his airway, he waited until he was dropped onto the floor of the warehouse. He fell forward onto his hands, coughing up the remnants of the sludge that had gotten lodged in his throat. It splattered to the floor.

“Welcome back, Midoriya. I hope I gave you enough time to recover. I went too far earlier,” All For One said. He waited for a moment. “Have you put any more thought into our conversation?”

All For One understood human nature enough to know that Izuku needed his own thoughts to become a villain, and he could use that knowledge to his advantage.

But so could Izuku. If All For One had perfected the art of manipulation, Izuku had perfected the art of seeing through it. He might not be able to read All For One himself, but nothing could keep him from recognizing every appeal to his desire to his dreams, every reference to their Quirks as one, every flattering remark, every apology, as what they were.

“...I want to be a hero.”

Izuku would admit he’d cracked, but he hadn’t crumbled yet.

“And you can be,” All For One said. “Now, I would like to discuss the sports festival again. Not the audience’s reaction, but rather the reactions of Hitoshi Shinsou and Shimo Korikyu. How did they respond to your Quirk?”

Izuku took a deep breath, lacing his fingers together and squeezing. There was no reason he could think of to lie. He knew exactly where All For One was going to guide their conversation once he answered. But, as long as Izuku refused to listen, there was nothing All For One’s words could do.

“They… they didn’t mind. They even… offered their Quirks for me to use in the next rounds.”

“How kind of them,” All For One said. “And Katsuki Bakugou? How did he react to your taking of first place in the second round?”

Izuku’s hands went slack, then tightened around each other again. Had All For One mentioned Shinsou and Korikyu just to throw him off, just to lull him into a sense of security because he knew they hadn’t reacted nearly as poorly as they could have? So mentioning Bakugou would have a much more negative effect? But, unless he knew Bakugou and Izuku had attended the same elementary and junior high school, he couldn’t possibly know their relationship. What he was attempting to do was to connect Bakugou’s hatred of losing to Izuku’s Quirk somehow.

“He… didn’t like it.”

“After the second round of the festival, you were the sole competitor Bakugou faced who walked away with a burn. This, of course, was before you had won; he had no reason to hate you. Nor did he need to burn you to take your headbands,” All For One said. “In fact, Bakugou had no need to pursue your team at all. It was almost as if he saved your team for last to ensure you wouldn’t be able to collect points before time ran out.”

“That… doesn’t necessarily mean he...”

“Of course not. However, I am well aware of the fact that Bakugou attended your junior high school.”

Izuku sucked in a sharp breath that left his lungs aching.

How could All For One have gotten hold of that information? It could be one of the villains working with the League, or, more likely, it was the doing of the U.A. traitor. Someone with access to U.A.’s student files would have access to the name of each student’s junior high school. It would take seconds to spot the fact that Bakugou and Izuku’s junior high schools matched.

But that didn’t make much sense. If the U.A. traitor had access to student files, they would have access to Izuku’s home address. Why wait until the training camp to kidnap him? Sure, kidnapping a student from their home wouldn’t result in nearly as much press coverage, considering U.A. would likely cover it up and handle the situation without the public’s knowledge. And sure, kidnapping a student from U.A.’s hero course training camp was sure to sully U.A.’s reputation. But kidnapping Izuku from his home would have a much higher chance of success. Izuku would think All For One was more concerned with capturing Izuku than damaging U.A.’s reputation. Because, if they failed at the training camp, they wouldn’t get an easy second chance, what with the way U.A. would focus on protecting Izuku.

If the traitor didn’t have access to student files, then the most likely suspect was a student.

Oh.

Izuku had mentioned the fact that he and Bakugou had gone to the same junior high school during the training camp.

He rubbed his hand over his face, pressing down on his eyebrows to ease the tension behind them. The people he’d told… Uraraka, Tsu, and Ashido. And the person who’d prompted the answer to begin with: Kaminari.

Was it truly possible that Kaminari was the traitor? Sure, he’d been incessant that he learn more about Shinsou’s Quirk, a Quirk that was often seen as villainous. But that meant little. If Kaminari was the traitor, would he not have tried to grow closer to Izuku? Although it was possible he knew Izuku was All For One’s target, and therefore took interest in someone else. Had he ensured that the seat beside him was open so Shinsou would nearly be guaranteed to sit next to him on the bus to the training camp?

But Kaminari had been so lively, so infatuated with Shinsou, so inherently curious that his volunteering to help Shinsou with his training hadn’t seemed unnatural. Body language always betraying how he felt as though he didn’t belong, Izuku hadn’t been surprised when he’d shown up late to dinner the third night. He’d assumed it had been a sort of break. After all, didn’t he feel different from the others because they intimidated him with their skill? When asked to justify himself, Kaminari had claimed that he’d wanted to explore a little. Because he lived in the heart of a city, he never got the chance.

And the drawback of his Quirk… It had struck Izuku as strange when he discharged 1.3 million volts during the sports festival’s cavalry battle with no sign of his loss-of-intelligence drawback. Especially when it had appeared in the third event. Well, it hadn’t been strange until their expedition into the woods to get to the Wild, Wild Pussycats’ base. He’d used the same voltage once and had had to be carried by Satou for the rest of the trip. It was almost as if he were faking the drawback to his Quirk— perhaps so as to lower the guard of his classmates and have them turn a blind eye to him at his command. Izuku had assumed, at the time, that the hero course students must have been practicing their Quirks before getting on the bus. Though that theory was weak, he’d known.

Could Izuku have prevented the attack on the training camp if he’d been smarter?

Because it had to be Kaminari if it were anyone, did it not? His behavior had been the most suspicious out of the others. He knew little about Uraraka and even less about Tsu and Ashido, but he couldn’t name anything that they’d done that could be considered suspicious. Unless one of them was allied to the villains, and Kaminari was innocent, and Izuku truly couldn’t read anyone like he always thought he could. But he was pretty sure he could.

Did there even have to be a traitor at all?

Yes, unfortunately. How else could the League have known All Might would be at the USJ? How would All For One have known Bakugou and Izuku went to the same junior high school? That kind of information wasn’t exactly readily available to the public, and if the League of Villains had someone who could hack into U.A.’s files from outside, they would’ve kidnapped Izuku from his home. Unless there was no traitor to begin with, and the theories floating around the internet meant nothing, and Izuku was accusing people because he truly was becoming a villain just like everyone said he would. Just like All For One wanted him to be. Was Izuku falling for All For One’s tricks that he hadn’t even recognized were tricks to begin with?

Izuku couldn’t stop himself from crying, but he absolutely refused to make a sound. So he brushed his tears away without sniffling, wiping his eyes and his nose on his sleeve until they burned. He wanted his knife.

Would Izuku be acting like a villain if he accused one of the hero course students of being a traitor? What right did he have to doubt a hero course student? A student with a heroic Quirk and heroic aspirations?

Nevertheless, Izuku would have to take this information to the U.A. teachers, just as a precaution. Even if he cemented himself as a villain in everyone’s eyes. Or maybe he shouldn’t, because nobody knew who the traitor was. Nobody expected Izuku to know, so what harm would come to Izuku if he remained silent?

How could he think like that? How could he consider protecting himself over protecting others, even if the chance that it would do any good was slim? Maybe he did deserve to die— or maybe not, if it would help him.

“How did Bakugou treat you back then?” All For One asked.

Opening his mouth, Izuku let the pool of blood that had collected on his tongue drip to the floor. Swallowing so much was beginning to hurt his stomach.

“We… we weren’t friends.”

“Were you friends with anyone?”

Would All For One be able to tell if Izuku lied? Although Izuku supposed it didn’t matter, because whichever he said would both lead to an outcome All For One could work with. So which one would be less painful to admit?

“I… no,” Izuku said. But he had friends now, didn’t he?

“Tell me, Midoriya, when did you discover your Quirk?”

“I was… eight.”

“And how did you discover it?”

All For One already had the answer. If Izuku had first learned of his Quirk in the comfort of his own home or at least away from the eyes of his peers, his classmates wouldn’t have ever ostracized him. If Izuku hadn’t known any better — because he certainly wouldn’t have — his mother would have. He would’ve been too caught up in the exciting fact he’d manifested a Quirk at all. She would have taught him to keep his Quirk a secret.

“I, um… took the Quirk of one of my classmates accidentally.”

“And you returned it as soon as you possibly could, yes?” All For One asked.

Izuku nodded.

“And your classmate was aware of this?”

Either All For One could somehow see well enough to accept the movement as an answer, or he was accepting silence as affirmation. Izuku nodded again.

“And this classmate felt threatened by a power you clearly did not want and so began what would be near complete isolation,” All For One said. “But it was worse than near exclusion, yes? Because there was one person who was never afraid of your power. Not enough to avoid you.”

Digging his nails into his thighs until they bled, Izuku pushed harder and harder until his fingernails couldn’t stab any farther, suppressing Super Regeneration to make the pain worthwhile. Over and over, again and again. How had he not predicted this? If the villains had made an effort to treat his wounds, to wrap bandages around his chest, they would have seen them.

“Am I safe to assume Bakugou is the cause of the burns that litter your body?”

Izuku kept his eyes trained on the thin streams of blood making their way down his leg. “Yes.”

“Did he know of your desire to become a hero when he burned you?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you see?” All For One asked, and Izuku looked up at him. He had his back straight, legs crossed, and hands out in front of him like he was offering some infinite wisdom. Maybe he was. “Despite knowing you wanted to become a hero, despite knowing you disliked your Quirk. Who do you believe is responsible for his behavior? Responsible for every burn without any consequences?”

Izuku didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“You don’t deserve to be abused by those who deem you undeserving of respect or kindness because of something you cannot control.”

Izuku pressed his fingernails down harder, then pulled them away, letting Super Regeneration leave nothing behind but blood. He said, “That’s why I have to become a hero. To prove I’m not a threat.”

The Pro Heroes would come for him soon. All he had to do was hold on until then, refusing to fall apart and gathering information when he could. They would come for him, even if only to keep him from becoming a villain as they’d already feared.

“And I wish you were correct,” All For One sighed. “But it would be wrong of me to let you continue believing a lie when you could know otherwise.”

Was it a lie?

“You used to wish you’d been born with a different Quirk, I imagine?”

Izuku huffed a laugh. “Of course.”

“Why should you have to wish away a power that others pride themselves on?”

That wasn’t true. Well, it was, but he agreed with the question itself, not the implications behind it. Or did he agree with both? No, no, no. Just because he wished the world was different, just because he wanted to change that aspect of it, just because he wanted to prove he wasn’t what they said he was… those didn’t mean he was willing to tear it down to change it. He wasn’t a villain, and he would never become a villain, no matter what All For One said, no matter what All For One attempted to convince him of, no matter what Izuku agreed with, and why was he even listening to anything All For One said anymore, and why couldn’t he—

“If you agree the world must change, why are you so adamant that everything remains the same? Do you not care for the countless children born with Quirks like yours? Should they be left to suffer alone because you chose not to come to their aid?”

That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

Izuku would become a hero and rise to the top of the ranks. And once he’d proven that he would never do anything to hurt someone innocent, he would tell the world of the anguish of those with Quirks that were considered villainous. He would use himself as an example of what they could become: heroes. A villainous Quirk could not define someone’s character, no matter how dangerous it could be.

“When I become a hero, I’ll prove that villainous Quirks don’t really exist,” Izuku whispered. Every response was a whisper now.

“Are you convincing me or yourself?” All For One asked. “Even if you were to merely transfer into the hero course, it wouldn’t change anything. With the way this world is, nobody would accept you as a hero. If, somehow, you were able to debut, you wouldn’t be able to climb the ranks. Even as a student of U.A., the public doesn’t see you as a potential hero. The response to your performance in the sports festival is proof of that. Realistically, you will never become a hero.”

You will never become a hero.

He’d heard that, or some variation of it, so many times before. But it had been a while since he’d last heard it, and it appeared he’d grown used to feeling like he just might have a chance.

Desperate to keep some semblance of control, he ducked his head and covered his mouth with his hand. He cried silently, fighting the sobs that tried to force their way up his throat. His left hand tightened around his mouth, and his right tensed and gouged little crescents into his scalp. He couldn’t feel it.

“Do you think I do not know? That I am speculating?” All For One asked. “I do not mean to upset you for the mere sake of it. I am simply relaying what I have learned from experience.”

Izuku looked up and stared at him. Experience?

“I was once like you, Midoriya. I believed I could prove my allegiance through my actions, all those years ago. I too wanted to become a hero. But I never did, because no matter what I attempted, no matter which villains I faced or how often I bested them, it did not change anything. It did not matter what I did, but rather what I was. What my Quirk was.”

All For One had already tried exactly what Izuku was attempting to do. Sure, it was a different time, but clearly nothing much had changed. Izuku dug his fingernails into his scalp, Super Regeneration deactivated.

“You mentioned becoming a hero would convince the public that you are not a threat.” He paused for a moment to give Izuku time to nod. “But that isn’t possible. You are not simply a threat because you have the power to steal a Quirk. You are a threat because you exist with great power, Midoriya, no matter how you attempt to suppress it. Why else would Katsuki Bakugou fear you enough to damage your flesh so severely yet still have the confidence to do so?”

Was that why Bakugou had done what he’d done? Not because Izuku could steal his Quirk but because Izuku’s existence left unchecked threatened Bakugou’s superiority?

“Perhaps you have friends at U.A. who believe you will not steal their Quirks, but who is to say they trust you? They may trust you not to use your Quirk on them specifically, but perhaps they do not trust you to remain as their ally. Perhaps they are solely friends with you, solely offer their Quirks, to keep you from becoming the monster they believe you to be. Why do you believe U.A. is so desperate to retrieve you? They think themselves capable of containing a monster.”

Was Izuku wrong to ever think he had a chance of becoming a hero? Maybe Shinsou and Korikyu and Uraraka and Kyarano and Todoroki and everyone in Class 1-A and 1-B didn’t trust him in the slightest. At least, if they trusted him in one way, they didn’t in another. Maybe Shinsou was only using Izuku for sparring practice, tolerating him to keep him around, thinking he wouldn’t harm Shinsou if he didn’t know the true reason. And maybe Korikyu had been trying to appease him with his comment. And All Might truly had seen Izuku’s potential as a villain and had recommended him to apply for U.A. to keep an eye on him.

He’d done everything he could have possibly done to ensure he appeared trustworthy, had he not? What had he ever done to break someone’s trust? Had it been the sports festival, or had he not apologized enough every time he used his Quirk, because his Quirk truly was the only part of him that mattered? Would he never become a hero, never even get the chance, solely because his Quirk defined him, solely because nobody could ever trust him, despite always attempting to ensure he appeared as non-threatening as possible, despite—

He was doing it again.

If Izuku had his X-ACTO knife with him— if he had anything, really, he wouldn’t trust himself not to go too far. But, honestly, would that be such a terrible thing?

His tears, which had previously been silent, burst out with a single broken sob. With a quick jab of his left palm, he struck his ribs, Super Regeneration not present to mend the bones. When the pain wasn’t enough, he drove his fist into the floor, relishing in the way blood stained his knuckles and spattered on the cold concrete.

“...Becoming a hero isn’t impossible,” Izuku protested weakly.

“But it is.”

“It… might be different for me.”

“You cannot accomplish anything on your current path, Midoriya. True change is not born from such illogical efforts, from efforts that will accomplish nothing. No, it is born from action. Without action, there is no reaction.”

“Your plan... maybe it isn’t the only one that’ll work.”

“It is,” he said, shifting to cross one leg over the other. The tubes that had been poked through the corners of his mouth swung slightly as he moved. “You still have no grasp of the nature of this world; you still believe you can fix it on the path you’re taking now. But your current path is nothing but a fantasy, and that will never change.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to hurt people.”

“And you wouldn’t have to.”

Izuku paused, then said, “I don’t want to sit by while the League hurts people, either.”

All For One shook his head. “Currently, you ally yourself with the people who don’t trust you. You want to become one of the people who never did anything to help you in your time of need.”

“The League… never did anything to help me either.”

“This is your time of need, Midoriya. The present,” All For One said, making a sweeping gesture with his hand. “I am merely trying to help you. Unlike All Might, I want you to achieve your goals. While All Might encouraged you to apply to U.A. because he intended to tame you, I am encouraging you to do what it will take to become who you wish to be.”

“If… if All Might thinks I’ll become a… a villain, why would I prove him right?”

“You believe they will rescue you?”

“They have to.”

“Exactly.”

Izuku crumbled, dropping his gaze back to All For One’s feet, where, out of the corner of his eye, he could see his blood just starting to dry on the floor. He jabbed each injury again, this time allowing Super Regeneration to heal his flesh just so he could do it again and again and again.

“They will come because they must, not because they have faith in you. They see you as nothing more than a potential threat.”

“As long as they come, it doesn’t matter why,” Izuku said. Whether he was convincing All For One or himself, he wasn’t sure. Both, maybe.

“Are you sure?” All For One asked. “It is only natural to want respect. Why are you so willing to let others degrade you? You are so willing to hide your true potential because this hero society conditioned you into believing it is evil.”

“...That’s the way the world works right now.”

“You can change that.”

“As a hero,” Izuku finished.

All For One sighed. “Can you not see you are fooling yourself?”

Izuku’s tense shoulders sagged. “I… I don’t know.”

“I am glad,” All For One said. He waited a moment. “I believe we have discussed enough for now. Again, I apologize for the pain I’ve caused, but it was necessary.”

Sludge gushed from Izuku’s mouth once more, and he accepted it without protest, waiting for the moment he dropped to the floor of the bar and could breathe again.

…

Chapter Text

“This necessary?” Hitoshi asked, running a hand through his hair. It had been slicked back by about half a jar of hair gel, and he hated it. He curled his lip when he felt the gel stick to his fingers. And why was it so hot outside? The sun had already set.

“Yes,” the creation girl said. Yaoyorozu, maybe? Didn’t matter. “We’ll stand out if we look like kids in a place like this, and what if we’d gotten recognized? Especially since most of us made it to the third round of the sports festival, and some of us were on the podium.”

He huffed and pushed his fake glasses up his nose, which were apparently necessary to hide his signature eye bags. Were they seriously his most defining feature? And the glasses weren’t even doing anything to hide them. Still, if it kept the girl from caking his face in makeup, he’d wear them. But how the hell did the engine kid wear glasses while fighting? Hitoshi could barely keep them from sliding right off his nose and into the gutters where the cheap things belonged.

Hitoshi hooked his finger around the loop of his tie and pulled, loosening it a little. His suit was too tight around his shoulders, and the sleeve didn’t reach his left wrist. His sneakers didn’t match the rest of his getup at all. Not to mention the sling around his right arm kept him from even wearing the suit properly. It was about to fall right off.

At least not everything was terrible. The creation girl’d slapped a fake mustache and tacky spotted bowtie on the engine boy, and topped the outfit off with some awful red and yellow striped suspenders. Todoroki was wearing a long wig that kept slipping sideways, and Kyarano was wearing a ridiculous headband to pin down her ears.

Laughing at them made Hitoshi feel a bit better. So did the thought of what he’d done to Bakugou. When he’d stomped his way over to where they’d been meeting outside the hospital, all Hitoshi’d done was provoke him a little. It’d been too easy. Then a little brainwashing was all it took to make the asshole sit under a tree outside. He probably wouldn’t snap out of it for hours until someone stumbled across him. Hitoshi snickered to himself.

He followed the group through the crowd, bringing up the rear behind the gravity girl. He kept his eyes on Kyarano’s heart-printed headband since it was impossible to lose sight of the thing. About halfway through the crowd, Kyarano stopped. She turned her head up to a screen on the building to their left, which was bright enough to shine some dull light on the crowd right below it.

On the screen was Eraserhead, Vlad King, and Principal Nezu. They were taking questions from the press in the audience below the stage they were on. Each one of them had their hands or paws clasped together on the table around the microphones that were shoved up near their chins.

From the sound of it, the press was searching for any way to drag U.A.’s reputation through the mud. From the looks of it, Eraserhead wasn’t too thrilled. He was glaring at the woman who’d asked the latest question like he wanted to toss her outside with his binding cloth. That he didn’t have on him. Like the other two, he’d gone for wearing a suit about as formal as the one Hitoshi was wearing. It was weird seeing him in anything but his hero costume. Which were more pajamas than anything.

While all of this was interesting, it wasn’t helping them find Midoriya.

“If the villains are interested in recruiting Midoriya, it’s probably because his Quirk can be described as villainous,” Eraserhead spoke up. He was standing now, holding up the microphone to his mouth. “But if they believe he’ll join them, they’re sorely mistaken.”

Eraserhead took a seat again and Principal Nezu stepped in to answer the next question. Something about what the school was doing to increase security. It didn’t matter, so Hitoshi grabbed Todoroki’s shoulder and nodded in the direction they’d been going before. Wordlessly, Todoroki started to walk again. Soon enough their group was back onto a relatively empty road. A person or two glanced at them, but their eyes didn’t stay for long. They were fine.

Yaoyorozu took the lead, head down as she focused on the tracking device in her hand. Passing under street lamps that lit up portions of the road then left them in the dark, they walked on the sidewalk as long as they could. Chunks of concrete were missing from it in places. At one point, the engine boy nearly went for a dive when his foot got caught in one of the holes. But he caught himself. Sadly.

After what Hitoshi guessed was ten minutes, they stopped in front of a vending machine. He peered inside. Figured it’d be better than standing in a suspicious huddle. There was only one couple anywhere near them, but being careful didn’t hurt. Todoroki and Kyarano seemed to catch on, since they stepped beside him to get a look themselves. Either that or they wanted a drink. The first for Todoroki and the second for Kyarano probably.

“It looks like the signal is coming from the warehouse next to us,” Yaoyorozu said.

Hitoshi glanced to the side, where the black outline of a building towered up at least three stories. The street lamp that would’ve made it visible was out. So were half the ones he could see when he looked the other way.

“Is it abandoned?” Uraraka asked.

“Probably,” Yaoyorozu said. She turned to the entrance of an alley not far from the vending machine. “We should go down this alleyway and see what we can find. There might be a side entrance or a window. We shouldn’t do anything until we have a better idea of what we’re up against.”

“If the tracker is on the Nomu, there’s a chance Midoriya won’t be here at all,” Todoroki said.

Hitoshi glared at him. Why the hell did he feel the need to mention it? They knew already.

“What will we do then?” he continued.

“You two ladies want to ditch these guys and come hang with us?” a man’s voice interrupted.

Hitoshi turned to find a group of men waddling over to Yaoyorozu and Uraraka. Drunk off their asses. Beside Hitoshi, Kyarano took a step towards them. Her tail swished behind her. He guessed it didn’t matter if she showed it now, since these men clearly didn’t recognize them. Probably wouldn’t’ve even if they were sober. Not that it mattered. They were wasting time with some dumbasses that couldn’t see through their idiotic disguises. Did they really not look like kids playing dress-up?

“You,” Hitoshi said, pointing a finger at the one who was leaning closer to the girls.

“I wasn’t talkin’ to you,” the man slurred.

The man’s eyes dulled. With a few more one-word accusations and idiotic answers, the other four fell under Hitoshi’s control. One command and they were walking away wordlessly.

“‘S go,” Hitoshi said.

He started toward the alley, falling back to let Yaoyorozu lead with the tracker. As they formed a single-file line, he brushed off Yaoyorozu and Uraraka’s thanks. They could’ve taken those guys down without any problems. Why thank him? Hitoshi’s brainwashing was just more efficient. And less likely to get them in trouble, since the idiots wouldn’t remember what’d happened. They’d blame their missing memory on the alcohol and move on. If they even noticed.

The alley was much darker than the street. Concrete walls separated the narrow path from the buildings on the other side, blocking out any light that might’ve come from them. The sliver of the moon in the sky did nothing to help, but they didn’t really need it. It was a straight shot to what looked like a dead end. Hopefully the last warehouse to their right was it, because he wasn’t too keen on backtracking.

He decided this one was enough the second Kyarano stepped on the back of his shoe with her clawed foot. He bit back a word Midoriya would’ve scolded him for.

That idiot had better be alive. No. He was obviously alive; the villains wouldn’t’ve gone to so much trouble to kidnap him if they wanted him dead. And they wanted his Quirk. But that was the only guarantee. They’d try to convince him he’d make a good villain, and Hitoshi didn’t know how long Midoriya could resist listening. Probably not at all. The ordeal would leave some scars, but scars could fade. Midoriya would say something stupid like that if their roles were reversed.

If Hitoshi had been kidnapped, Midoriya would’ve convinced half of 1-A to join him in a rescue mission. He didn’t doubt that. Midoriya would’ve come up with a plan that had about twenty different approaches depending on whatever went wrong, too. Hitoshi’d tried to do that. He’d had plenty of time to do it in the hospital with his arm broken all to hell. But thinking wasn’t exactly his thing, so he’d only made two backup plans. Because apparently his thing was eye bags and coffee. So he’d asked the nurse for coffee six times in two days. It made him feel better. Sue him.

If they were lucky, they’d find Midoriya relatively unharmed. Or as unharmed as he could be with the injuries he’d been kidnapped with. Actually, if they were lucky, they’d find Midoriya. And rescue him.

In front of Hitoshi, Yaoyorozu stopped. He nearly ran into her, inches from her obnoxiously massive ponytail. He glared at the back of her head. Maybe they shouldn’t be talking, but a hand motion would’ve been nice. And what would a whisper have done? Alert people who weren’t anywhere near them?

“I think it’s right here,” Yaoyorozu said.

She pointed to a warehouse behind the wall to their right. With his eyes now fairly adjusted to the dark, Hitoshi could make out a single barred window and a stained wall. It was completely dark inside, at least from the angle he was looking in from. No overhead lights on, then. If Midoriya was in there, was he all alone? Would that be why the lights would be off? To let him sleep? Or he wasn’t there at all.

“We need to see inside,” Todoroki said.

“Will we even be able to see anything?” Uraraka asked.

“I’ll make some—” Yaoyorozu started.

“Let me do it,” Kyarano said. She jabbed a thumb towards her eye. “Night vision, remember?”

Hitoshi’d remembered. It was why he’d chosen not to buy a pair of night-vision goggles. Those things were expensive; he wouldn’t waste his money if he didn’t have to. Not to mention Yaoyorozu could pull one out of her arm if she wanted.

Behind Kyarano in the line was Iida, so she stood on his shoulders to see over the wall. Her tail swished back and forth lazily. Hitoshi didn’t think she’d bothered to stuff it back in her pants after their vending machine adventure. It wouldn’t cause any problems anymore, so he wasn’t going to say anything. Until her tail bristled, sticking out behind her. And stayed there.

“I see… rows of big tanks with a monster in each of them. All their brains are like… exposed. And they’re in some kind of weird glowing green liquid.”

“Nomu,” Yaoyorozu said. A pair of goggles grew out of her upper arm just under the sleeve of her dress. “Iida, will you let me stand on your shoulders? I’ve seen two Nomu before, so I can confirm if that’s what Kyarano is seeing.”

“That is a fine idea!” he said.

He squatted down to let Kyarano hop off his shoulder, then knelt to let Yaoyorozu climb on. He definitely struggled a little lifting her up.

“Those are Nomu. Why are there so many?” she whispered.

A bunch of nearly unbeatable monsters guarding Midoriya. Just what they needed. But if they were in tanks, they probably wouldn’t be getting out to attack them. Were the tanks making them?

Holding her ankles, Iida lowered Yaoyorozu to the ground.

“That’s really not good. But they’re in tanks, right?” Uraraka asked.

Kyarano and Yaoyorozu nodded.

“They weren’t moving at all, so I don’t think they’ll be a problem,” Kyarano said.

“Let’s keep walking to the end and look over the wall again. Maybe we’ll find another window or a way inside,” Yaoyorozu said.

Hitoshi followed her as she began to walk again, but they didn’t get far.

A deafening blast nearly knocked them into the wall to their left. Stumbling, Hitoshi regained his balance and turned to the source of the noise. Just missing the end of their line, the concrete wall had crumbled. It left a gap that was at least as wide as Hitoshi was tall. Through it, Hitoshi could see the silhouette of a man emerge from the warehouse they’d been looking into. His face was shrouded by the dust the explosion had caused. But why the explosion? The man? His Quirk? A bomb?

A silhouette of a man appeared in the edges of the dust. He never stepped out of it.

“Midoriya,” the man said, “I apologize for disturbing your rest.”

Midoriya.

Beside the man, Midoriya was on his knees, coughing for a reason he couldn’t see. He was just outside the dust cloud. Midoriya looked up at the man, but Hitoshi couldn’t see his expression. Then the man took a few steps back and disappeared back into the warehouse he’d come from.

The dust cleared, and Hitoshi got a good look at Midoriya. He looked awful. Bandages wrapped around his arms and poked through the collar of his shirt. His right arm had been healed somehow. Well, the bone had been put back into place. Dried blood still covered his elbow. As he got to his feet, his body stayed hunched like he couldn’t hold his own weight. Were the villains too stupid to heal a new member properly?

He looked seconds away from collapsing. If Hitoshi and the others didn’t do something, he probably would.

They needed a plan. And they needed it fast.

…

Chapter Text

Izuku would admit that waking up to Toga invading his personal space was starting to get old, and it had only happened twice now. But it was far from the second time she’d sat on his lap or pointed the blade of one of her knives between his eyes. No matter how many times it occurred, Izuku still flinched every time.

“Wake up, Izu-chan! They’re talking about you,” she sang, her voice too loud in his ears.

Blinking to adjust to the glare of the overhead lights reflecting on the bottles crammed onto the shelves, he tried to process her words. He turned his attention to where she, along with the others, were watching something on the box TV. The initial stab of panic at the thought of seeing the word Master pasted onto an otherwise black screen dissipated slightly when he was met with the sight of Mr. Aizawa, Vlad King, and Principal Nezu.

They were sitting at a table covered by a white tablecloth that nearly touched the wooden floor of the stage, and the backdrop behind them was nothing more than a white curtain. Izuku had no idea where they could be. Not that it truly mattered, he supposed.

All three were wearing suits of some sort, and while it wasn’t strange to see Principal Nezu in that very outfit, it sure was odd to see the other two in anything but their hero costumes. And, normally, hero costumes would be perfectly acceptable to wear to an interview. But Izuku could believe this press conference in particular called for more formalities than others in the past. It probably had a much larger audience than any other U.A. conference had ever received, all because Izuku had been kidnapped and U.A. now had to explain themselves for his failure.

Mr. Aizawa stood up suddenly, his eyes wide and bloodshot as he stared at whoever had asked the last question. Vlad King gave him a sideways glance as if willing him to calm down. For a moment, it looked as though Mr. Aizawa would ignore him. But then he exhaled visibly and lifted the microphone, microphone stand and all, up to his mouth without too much unnecessary force. He said, “If the villains are interested in recruiting Midoriya, it’s probably because his Quirk can be described as villainous. But if they believe he’ll join them, they’re sorely mistaken.”

Izuku stared at the screen, tears pricking at his eyes, too afraid that blinking would make them fall. Was that what Mr. Aizawa truly believed, or was he telling the public what it needed to hear? Was he wrong to question whether Mr. Aizawa truly believed he could be a hero?

Was Shinsou watching this somewhere back home? Was he worried for Izuku’s safety or for the world’s if Izuku joined the League? Did he agree with Mr. Aizawa? Did Todoroki and Uraraka and Kyarano and the rest of Class 1-A and Class 1-B agree?

“You hear that, kid?” Dabi laughed. “They still believe in you.”

Izuku didn’t respond, allowing himself a sliver of comfort, as he’d expected Dabi would be the first to taunt him. Back on the screen, Principal Nezu was answering the question that Dabi had talked over. From how he was responding, a reporter had asked if they had any leads on where Izuku was being held. Apparently, they were still searching.

Of course, villains attacking U.A. had no precedent, but the teachers had done all they could to keep their students safe. If it had been any other school, Izuku had no doubt that the villains would have done much more damage. And there would have been a death count. (Every question the press asked referred back to how they’d allowed a student to get kidnapped, not killed. Thankfully.)

Izuku stared at the screen, tears still clouding his vision. Mr. Aizawa was attempting to assuage the fears of the crowd, wasn’t he? He couldn’t possibly believe, with certainty, that Izuku wouldn’t become a villain. He was just as worried as everyone else— he had to be.

“I’m really liking all the free publicity recently,” Shigaraki said.

Although Izuku couldn’t see it, he knew there was a grin under the hand on Shigaraki’s face. He scratched at his neck as the conference came to an end. Izuku had come to realize it was something he did without thinking. It wasn’t a nervous habit, considering he did it all the time, and it wasn’t self-harm, like Izuku had assumed it was at first. Eventually, he’d concluded that the habit was something he did constantly but grew progressively worse when he was stressed.

With the press conference over, Shigaraki turned the TV off, and Toga’s only distraction disappeared. So she skipped over to Izuku and put her hands on his knees, leaning in until she was inches from his face. In return, Izuku leaned back as far as he could. She responded by moving in closer.

“You haven’t eaten in a while, you know,” she said. “But don’t worry! I brought you some food.”

Izuku turned his head to the side more as she jabbed another protein bar close to his eyes, turning back when he didn’t feel it smack him in the face. Upon closer examination — which was awfully close, as she hadn’t moved it back much at all — it was a different flavor. Well, the shade of brown on the wrapper’s label was darker.

“It’s chocolate chip this time! I bet it’s better than those gross peanut butter ones. Peanut butter is icky.”

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t enjoyed the peanut butter ones, because they’d tasted fine. It was simply difficult to muster up an appetite in his situation. Even he had enough pride to be reluctant to eat food held by a villain. And, frankly, he never had much of an appetite when he was feeling particularly… self-destructive.

But she was correct, because he hadn’t been eating much. It was probably about time that he did. He might need energy to make an escape when the Pro Heroes came for him, because even if they didn’t trust him, he would rather be with them than with All For One and the League. So, reluctantly, he opened his mouth when Toga once again nearly jabbed his nose with the protein bar. There was something so unnerving about chewing when someone was unabashedly staring at him. It took him far too long to swallow his rather small bite.

“You’re so cute, Izu-chan,” she sighed happily. She was still leaning over him. “You’d only look cuter with some blood on you. The blood on your elbow is all dried up and gross now.”

Opting not to respond to that, he chose instead to take another bite. Whether it was his blood or someone else’s blood that she’d prefer he wore, he’d rather not know, though he had a feeling it was the former.

“So you’re gonna join us, right?” she asked. At that, every villain in the bar turned to look at him. “It’ll be so much fun if you do! I mean, I like everyone here just fine. But I’m the only one my age now, since Mustard’s gone. But he wasn’t any fun anyways. And these guys,” she gestured at the other villains in the room, “get kinda boring after a while.”

Would it have been better if Izuku had stepped off the roof of his junior high school one of those three times he’d nearly done it? To leave the note he’d written for his mother on his desk back home, explaining everything and apologizing, before leaving his shoes on the roof and going through with it? Could he find a way to gain access to U.A.’s roof?

He couldn’t say yes, but he couldn’t say no, so he just said, “I’m… not sure yet.”

Shigaraki rolled his eyes and turned away, raising a hand to scratch at the already abused skin on his neck. As usual, Kurogiri’s face wasn’t easy to read, considering he really didn’t have one. But his glowing yellow eyes didn’t narrow. Izuku took that as a sign that the villain had expected the answer. Or at least wasn’t surprised by it. Dabi scoffed, Mr. Compress let out a short laugh, and Twice said he’d change his mind soon and then said he’d better change it fast or they might have to kill him.

It was possible Twice’s contradicting responses were a result of his Quirk, but Izuku hadn’t seen him use it and nobody had mentioned it in passing. His villain name made Izuku think of a duplication Quirk— either duplicating objects, people, himself, or a combination of the three. He also could’ve chosen his name because of his tendency to respond twice. Or maybe he could duplicate Quirks, and that was how All For One and the Nomu from the USJ both had strong regeneration Quirks?

“You’ll be sure soon! Shigaraki’s master will convince you,” Toga said. She seemed to remember she had been tasked with feeding him and held the protein bar in front of his mouth again. “You need to eat more! You won’t be any fun if you starve to death.”

Izuku reluctantly opened his mouth, carefully avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes as Toga moved the protein bar closer. And he would’ve taken a bite, too, if a knock on the door to his right didn’t stop him. Scanning the room, it was clear this wasn’t a scheduled visit. Every villain in the room was staring at the door in bewilderment.

His heart fluttered.

The sound of the wooden wall splintering and breaking was the only warning they received before a blur of red, blue, yellow, and white burst into the room. The colors of All Might’s hero costume. A twisting torrent of tree branches followed. They shot out toward every villain and pinned their arms to their sides before Shigaraki could call for Kurogiri to warp them away. The branches were The Wooden Hero: Kamui Woods’ Lacquered Chain Prison, if Izuku wasn’t mistaken.

Dabi’s shoulder caught fire, blue as Izuku suspected. Before Izuku could call out a warning, a flash of yellow darted into the room and shot straight toward Dabi’s head. The flash landed a kick to Dabi’s temple. Both Dabi and the man dropped down to the ground, one less gracefully than the other. With a yellow cape and thick matching boots, along with a wrinkled face half-covered by a black eye mask, Izuku was surprised to see he wasn’t a hero he recognized. Izuku knew even veteran heroes who had retired decades ago, too. His hero costume was too bright to belong to an underground hero Izuku wouldn’t know.

Shigaraki called for Kurogiri to warp a group of Nomu to the bar.

“I’m sorry, Tomura. The Nomu should be in a fixed location, but they’re not there,” Kurogiri said. So Kurogiri’s Quirk could only work if he knew the coordinates — or at least the specific place — where his portal needed to open.

A thread of what looked like red fabric shot straight through Kurogiri’s body. He dropped to the ground with the thud of his neck armor hitting wood. Izuku recognized the fabric as part of The Ninja Hero: Edgeshot’s Foldabody Quirk. Sure enough, the Pro slipped through the crack under the door and expanded his body back until his head had taken shape. The rest of his body, still turned into a thin strand of fabric, wrapped around Kurogiri’s middle to keep him down.

All Might bellowed a laugh. “Everything is just fine now, because we are here!”

Izuku was well aware he looked pathetic as he stared up at the heroes, strapped to a chair and eyes probably bloodshot from sleeping so little and crying so much, but he couldn’t care less. They’d come to save him. And they’d done it rather quickly. And their choice to attack minutes after the press conference was rather ingenious. The teachers and Principal Nezu must have feigned ignorance on Izuku’s whereabouts to give the League some false confidence.

“Are you all right, Young Midoriya?” All Might asked, stepping up to Izuku’s chair. He fumbled to undo the straps that were so small in his massive hands.

“All Might, the lead—” Izuku started, but a mass of swirling black sludge gushing into view behind All Might’s shoulder cut him short.

“Edgeshot,” the hero Izuku didn’t recognize shouted, “what are you doing? Don’t let Kurogiri use his Quirk!”

“He’s still unconscious. It’s not him!”

Around the room, three more portals of sludge appeared. Izuku watched in horror as creatures with exposed brains began to crawl out of each. So those were the Nomu. Had they been somewhere in the warehouse with All For One all along, perhaps in a different room? But if they weren’t where they were supposed to be, All For One must have moved them. Or had All For One and Kurogiri’s times simply coincided, and the Nomu were already being transported by All For One when Kurogiri had tried to move them? Probably that.

“It’s All For One!” Izuku said. He noted All Might’s obvious shock at his words and stored it away for later. Then, the sludge of All For One’s Warping started to bubble its way up his throat. With his last breath, Izuku continued, “He has a warping Quirk!”

And then he was choking yet again. When he was dropped on the ground, the first thing he felt was a cool breeze on his face. The air wasn’t the cold, stale air of All For One’s warehouse. No, there was a harsh sting of dust in his eyes and the warm breeze of a summer night in his hair. Why was he outside, and what had caused the dust?

Izuku looked around once the dust had partially settled, taking note of every possible escape route. A concrete wall to his right, rubble stacked high to his left, and debris scattered in front of him. Had the surrounding buildings been leveled completely, turned to dust from a power Izuku prayed wasn’t a combination of All For One’s stolen Quirks? But what else could have happened? There was an intact warehouse behind him. Was it their warehouse?

Izuku glanced back at All For One. The tubes protruding from his face and neck were gone, now replaced by a mask that covered his head and down to his shoulders. Thin metal tubes wrapped around the backside of the mask.

Could that mask truly be the sole thing necessary to keep him alive, or did he not even need anything at all? Had the equipment back in the warehouse been nothing but a false security? But the mask couldn’t just be a stylistic choice. All For One was intimidating enough without his mask’s grotesque shape, and he knew it. And he didn’t seem like the type to wear a bulky mask for anything other than necessity.

“Midoriya,” he said, “I apologize for disturbing your rest.” He never tilted his head down to look, or pretend to look, at Izuku. Instead, he took a few steps backward, leaving Izuku behind as he disappeared into the last of the dissipating dust and back into the warehouse.

On the far side of the clearing was The Fiber Hero: Best Jeanist, collapsed on the ground with his denim costume soaked in blood. Mount Lady towered above him, above even the warehouse behind Izuku, and held a couple of unmoving Nomu in each hand. Gang Orca stood to the side of her left foot, arms crossed over his chest as he stood in front of Tiger. Tiger was shouting, clearly devastated, about something Izuku couldn’t hear.

With a splash, Warping burst to life beside him. The villains from the bar were transported to his side, every one of them coughing and hacking to rid their throats of the sludge. One by one, they gained their bearings. They all scanned their environment and locked eyes on Izuku. Well, all except Kurogiri and Dabi, who were lying face-down on the ground.

“Tomura, Compress, Toga, Twice, take Dabi and Kurogiri and Izuku Midoriya and escape,” All For One called from his place inside the warehouse.

Though his voice was clear, he was nowhere to be found. His body was hidden by the darkness of the warehouse with the dust now cleared. So he didn’t want the Pro Heroes or the public — by way of the live feeds sure to start up soon with the way Izuku could hear helicopters in the distance — to see him. So they couldn’t see him as a villain, Izuku assumed. If All For One let the League fight for him, he couldn’t be connected to them. Then, he could appear as a balm for a dying world in the future.

From the warehouse shot black spines decorated with red fissures, which lodged themselves into Kurogiri’s chest. His unconscious body jerked but didn’t wake, and yet a portal of black and purple swirled into existence above him.

One of the Quirks in All For One’s possession could forcibly activate other Quirks by piercing their bodies? Izuku had never heard of such a thing. He wished he could have kept it that way.

From the warehouse came All For One’s voice again, though this time his voice wasn’t loud enough to make out. A moment later, a hulking figure stepped into view. The dim moonlight lit up just enough of its face to make it recognizable with its exposed brain. Another Nomu, this one broad-shouldered and groaning. Its mouth hung open lamely as it stomped forward with unseeing eyes. It passed Izuku and the other villains without glancing their way, humanlike head never even turning, flexing its clawed hands as it moved.

When the shock of the forced Quirk activation and the Nomu’s arrival wore off, the villains turned to Izuku. He stepped back as they started towards him. Now was his chance to escape. Now was the time to run from the Nomu and pray he found a way to lose the villains. However, if he wasn’t careful, Mr. Compress would capture him just as easily as he had at the training camp.

Izuku followed the Nomu’s blank gaze, only for a flash of that same red, blue, yellow, and white as earlier to plummet from the sky. All Might swung a punch. The Nomu lazily blocked with lifted arms, and Izuku couldn’t do much but stare as All Might was forced to back away. Was one Nomu truly All Might’s match?

All Might wasn’t as strong as he used to be, and there was a good chance he’d already been in his muscle form for a while. His limit was three hours, but that information had been given to Izuku before the USJ. Uraraka had said All Might had held the Nomu off, but that it had been a fairly even match. That All Might had walked away with more than a few scratches. Along with All Might’s regular hero work, his limit was probably less than three hours now. How long could he hold his own against that Nomu, and could he win?

He wouldn’t last long— if he was going to win against an evenly matched opponent, he would have to act fast.

Could Izuku help somehow? Take the Nomu’s Quirks, maybe? He had no idea how many the Nomu had or what they were, and he’d probably get captured by the other villains before he had enough time to figure it out. But maybe he could slap the Nomu while it was distracted and hope for the best. With Super Regeneration, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting himself killed before he could be useful. All Might would worry though. Even if Izuku could get across the fact that he had Super Regeneration, All Might still wouldn’t want to harm him. Not as a Pro Hero trying to rescue him. Which meant Izuku would be consciously throwing himself in All Might’s way without a clue on whether or not Quirk Transfer would work on unidentified Quirks.

Their battle had already begun, and the wind from each impact whipped past Izuku’s ears with such force he couldn’t hear much else. There was no way he would be able to get close to them without interrupting their battle and forcing All Might to hold back. And he didn’t think putting All Might in such a position in his current state would lead to anything favorable. It would be best to escape and ensure All Might and the other Pro Heroes never had to rescue him again.

“If Master didn’t still want you around, I’d kill you,” Shigaraki said.

Before Mr. Compress and Shigaraki could get too close, Izuku opened his mouth and let his teeth shift and grow. Each tooth shot out as a long, jagged blade that bent and extended out like a branch of a tree. They hit each other and clanged and the impact rattled up to his skull. They grew faster than he would have liked. Just to keep from killing the villains in front of him, he had to devote the entirety of his concentration to controlling the Quirk. The teeth stopped spreading so quickly. But they didn’t stop entirely, so he jumped back. His foot nearly caught on whatever rubble was behind it.

It was too risky to attempt to take their Quirks from them— from what Izuku remembered, Mr. Compress just needed to tap him lightly to imprison him in one of his marbles. And Izuku didn’t know what Toga or Shigaraki’s Quirks were. They might not be as good for capture as Mr. Compress’s, but that didn’t mean their Quirks couldn’t incapacite Izuku easily.

Moving as fast as he dared, he backed away. Afraid of stumbling or attracting any more attention, each step was hesitant and shaky. If he could get over that wall now behind him, he’d be able to escape. If he pushed himself into the air with his teeth like he’d seen Blade Tooth Villain do, he could clear it easily. Unless Mr. Compress could trap the wall inside a marble, that plan should work.

Without moving his head, Izuku glanced at All Might and the Nomu. They were locked in a grapple, one clawed hand of the Nomu’s drawing blood as its fingers gouged into the side of the Pro’s arm.

In front of him, Shigaraki put a hand on a bladed tooth that had lodged itself into the ground. It began to crumble and turn to dust. Some kind of disintegration Quirk? Izuku leapt back, struggling to keep his teeth from stabbing through Shigaraki’s stomach. Pain crawled its way up his tooth, sharp like someone had taken a drill to it. Was Izuku about to die? No, he knew better. So the disintegration had limits on how far it would spread.

The piece of the tooth below Shigaraki’s touch fell to the ground, the decay slowing until it stopped. The rest of his tooth stayed intact.

Toga yelped as a tooth nearly stabbed through her foot. Izuku flinched and accidentally reeled each tooth back into his mouth. Warm blood poured from his lips as the blades sliced through them as they returned. After a second, the wounds were gone. Shigaraki and Toga and Mr. Compress lunged at him. Forcing the teeth back out, Izuku directed them downwards. The three jumped back. Toga pouted, Shigaraki scratched at his neck, and Mr. Compress gripped two marbles in his hand.

The wall was close now. For a second, Izuku caught a glimpse of a hole in the concrete and someone moving next to it. Who would be hiding behind the wall? A civilian? No, a civilian would know to move far away. A Pro? No, not if they weren’t yelling to him. A villain there to keep him from escaping?

He changed his direction to put as much distance between him and the hole as possible, hoping the villains would follow him. If he could propel himself above the wall where the hole was far away, they’d have to either go around or go through. That decision would take a few precious seconds he could use. They would most likely have to go around, since Shigaraki’s Quirk wasn’t powerful enough to break through the concrete quickly. Hopefully, the person behind the wall wouldn’t be waiting just on the other side.

As he continued to back up, his teeth groaning and creaking, he stumbled. His knee buckled, and he went down, retracting his teeth instinctually. The villains moved in closer. Struggling to get up, he forced the bladed teeth back out in front of him. But, otherwise, his body wouldn’t cooperate. His legs wouldn’t hold his weight any longer. No matter how he attempted to force himself up, he couldn’t.

Why now? He could stall for time, but without the strength to do anything more than control a Quirk, what could he do? All he had was Blade Tooth now.

Shigaraki and Toga were moving in behind him. Izuku tried to turn.

Before he could desperately attempt to defend himself, an awfully familiar voice hissed his name. Confused, he turned his head slightly. He locked eyes with Shinsou. In an instant, there were tears pricking at his eyes that he didn’t have the mind to be ashamed of.

Shinsou had come to rescue him— there was no other reason he would’ve been there. Had he really put himself in danger just to save Izuku?

Izuku turned back to the villains, who’d gotten dangerously closer. Again, he attempted to pick himself up, but it was no use. His body was on fire.

The sound of a fifth pair of footsteps made Izuku turn, and he was met with the sight of Todoroki and his ice caging Shigaraki and Toga up to their shoulders. A moment later, Twice and Mr. Compress met the same fate. If Izuku hadn’t already been crying, he would’ve started.

Shinsou dropped to his knees beside Izuku as Kyarano checked to ensure nobody else was approaching them.

“Feeling?” Shinsou asked.

Looking up at Shinsou, Izuku gave him a teary-eyed, closed-lip smile, one that he was sure looked dopey with the last of his strength fading and gruesome with blood coating his chin and neck.

“Thank you,” Izuku breathed.

...

Chapter Text

The first thing Izuku noticed when he woke up was the sound of someone talking nearby, then the door to his right, the windows to his left that didn’t indicate he was on a lower floor of the building, and then where exactly he was.

Mind groggy as he took in the hospital room, he squinted to protect his eyes from the harsh fluorescent lights above him. There were few medical machines in the room. His eyes drifted over each one, wary of spotting something that resembled a machine that had been attached to All For One. A stool was tucked into the corner by the door. Had anyone sat in it since he’d been admitted? Probably not, if this was the first time he had woken up inside the room.

Briefly, he toyed with the idea that Shinsou had visited him and had known to keep quiet, but all that brought with it was a fresh wave of tears. Shinsou had come to rescue him. Izuku didn’t deserve it. He had doubted Shinsou and Korikyu and everyone else in Class 1-A and 1-B… even his teachers. And he had doubted All Might. But he had good reason to doubt him, didn’t he? All For One had been right about him— All Might had recognized his name when Izuku had spoken it in the bar. It wasn’t reasonable to believe All Might hadn’t drawn the connection the day he’d met Izuku.

So how much could Izuku trust his classmates, and how much could he trust All For One? Shinsou had come to rescue him, and there was no reason to do so if he didn’t care for Izuku. Unless All For One was correct, and Shinsou did it solely to keep Izuku from becoming a villain, to protect his true allies, because Izuku had never been one of them. Was that why Todoroki and Kyarano had helped? To save the world from Izuku?

It would make sense, Izuku supposed. Because what had he ever done to help? What had he done to prove he was allied to the heroes?

He hadn’t been strong enough to avoid Mr. Compress at the training camp, hadn’t been strong enough to help anyone during the attack, hadn’t been strong enough to stand against All For One. All For One had been right there. Why hadn’t Izuku taken his Quirk then and ended everything? Like the villainous piece of shit he was, Izuku had prioritized himself. And why hadn’t he at least attempted to take a couple of the Nomu’s Quirks? Or the other villains’?

How was his Quirk — how was Izuku — any less villainous than All For One if he didn’t help anyone with it?

Would it be so terrible if Izuku gave Super Regeneration to a hero who could use it well, gave the Blade Tooth Quirk back to its rightful owner, and took a fateful step?

For nearly two years, he had convinced himself to live, whether it had been because his death would destroy his mother or even just to see the leaves turn red and gold in the autumn. For nearly two years, he hadn’t seriously thought of taking his life. Yet here he was, caught up in the idea of jumping from U.A.’s roof. But he couldn’t die, because he was the only known person in the world who could take All For One’s Quirks.

It was almost amusing— he was too upset to care that an IV tube was stuck inside his arm. Something about IVs, shots, surgeries… they didn’t sit well with him. Something about hurting someone to help them felt wrong, he supposed.

With his sobs loud in the otherwise quiet room, he didn’t hear the door opening. But he felt someone’s presence enter the room as soon as they cleared the doorway. He jerked his head up, then flinched, then let out a choked sound he was absolutely ashamed of. His body ached as he moved, but the pain was either dulled by painkillers or Super Regeneration’s work. Honestly, he wished it wasn’t. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to hurt so badly he might have to tear away his own skin with his fingernails.

Izuku wasn’t sure how long it took him to stop sobbing. He did his best to stop, knowing the nurse had plenty better to do than wait for him to calm his pathetic self.

When he did, she asked in a careful voice about the scars on Izuku’s shoulders and the burns on his torso. With panic in his overworked heart, he stuttered out an excuse about taking a fire-related Quirk when he was too little to know how to properly control it. She was clearly skeptical. He wouldn’t have believed himself either, but what else could he say? Quickly, he continued, explaining how he was getting help and cutting himself less and less. At least that part could be true, as he hadn’t had the opportunity to hurt himself for long enough to make most of the scars look old and faded. To that, she nodded. The subject wasn’t brought up again.

His nurse explained how he had been malnourished and dehydrated when he’d arrived, his body overworked from a combination of sleep deprivation, stress, and strain put on it by Super Regeneration. But nearly all of his injuries had been healed at some point by that very Quirk. Left behind was only a scattering of leftover bruises and cuts along his body. Eventually, she exited after promising that he would be released the next day, when his mother arrived to pick him up.

For a while, Izuku was able to sit in silence filled only by his labored breathing. He sank his fingernails in the sensitive flesh of his thighs, where countless scars were already littered.

It wasn’t until he heard the door open that he stopped. He jerked his head to the door and nearly broke into another sobbing fit at the sight of All Might in the doorway. In his true form. He looked worse than the last time Izuku had seen him like this, his cheekbones protruding noticeably more from his sunken skin. The Pro glanced around the room, spotted the stool in the corner, dragged it over to Izuku’s bedside, and sat down carefully.

“Young Midoriya, what’s wrong?”

Izuku shook his head and swiped at his eyes, hating the way the IV tube felt more uncomfortable than painful.

Izuku used to pray that fighting back tears would grow easier over time, or at least easier with practice. It never did. So, knowing better now, he ducked his head to hide his face and blinked slowly. If he blinked any faster, the tears would fall. He kept his head tilted slightly towards All Might so he could keep an eye on any movement the Pro made, though he knew he shouldn’t. Why would All Might hurt him? He was a hero, and he wouldn’t be able to get away with it in a hospital.

“...Young Midoriya?”

Izuku met his gaze. “All Might?”

“Yes?”

“Did you… did you only tell me to apply to U.A. because you thought I’d become a villain? Because you saw All For One in me?” he asked softly. He kept his eyes glued to All Might’s skeletal face, ready to gauge his reaction as best he could.

All Might stiffened, back straightening before he could stop his body from betraying him. He said nothing at first, averting his blue and black eyes and tensing his jaw, Izuku had his answer. What had he been expecting? He had already known.

“I’m sorry, my boy,” he said. “When we first met, I did recognize that your Quirk was similar to All For One’s. At first, I did want you to attend U.A. so I could ensure you never followed in his footsteps. But I see now that you are nothing like him, and you will never become him, Young Midoriya.”

It sure didn’t sound like a lie, and it didn’t look like a lie, either, but could Izuku trust that?

“Will I just become a different breed of villain then? Just with the same Quirk?”

All Might rested a bony hand on Izuku’s shoulder, careful to keep his touch light. It was only the slowness of his action that kept Izuku from flinching away, as he’d seen it coming. So he stilled himself and accepted the touch. But All Might didn’t remove it, and Izuku’s skin started to prickle, and with every passing second, the feeling intensified.

“My boy, do you still want to be a hero?”

“I- Of… of course. But—”

“Then you will never become a villain,” All Might said.

Izuku shook his head. “You’re just saying that. Nobody thinks I can be a hero.”

“Everyone does, my boy,” All Might said, frowning. “Especially now, after proving that even All For One cannot change you.”

Izuku couldn’t stop the broken laugh from escaping his throat. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“What do you mean?”

Izuku slipped his hands back down under the bed sheets that covered up to his midsection, clawing at the inside of his thighs, where his fingernails would hurt the most. He dug in as harshly as he could without moving too much.

“You said… you and All For One know each other?”

All Might sighed and stared down at his hands. He’d clasped them together as he rested his elbows on his knees. “We met five years ago, on the day of the battle that left me this way.” He gestured to himself. “It was All For One who did this to me. But the injuries he sustained in our fight were no better. I imagine you saw this?”

Izuku nodded. So All For One’s injuries hadn’t been fake.

All Might didn’t know whether All For One had told Izuku the truth about his past, and Izuku doubted anyone else knew, either. Izuku was inclined to believe All For One hadn’t been lying, but which part of him was it that felt that way? Rational or emotional?

“I imagine he never showed himself… not because he couldn’t, but because he did not want to be seen.”

And, due to this, All Might had faced the Nomu. But that prompted the question: what was All Might’s new time limit for his muscled form after his fight with the Nomu? If All For One had been the cause of his time limit at all, what would a monster with multiple Quirks designed by All For One do to it? How much time did Izuku’s failure cut from the Number One’s life as a Pro?

“Your time limit,” Izuku whispered. “Is it shorter now?”

All Might seemed to hesitate, and Izuku held his breath. He could feel an awful weight work its way into his chest and settle there. Why had he felt the need to ask that?

“I can no longer use my muscle form, Young Midoriya. My time as a Hero has come to an end.”

Izuku stared at him, breath catching in his throat and vision blacking for half a second as his heart plummeted. His kidnapping, his weakness, his failure, had been the cause of All Might’s retirement, his downfall? He had ended the Symbol of Peace?

For a while, he didn’t breathe and didn’t attempt to. But then he tried, and he found that all it did was tighten his throat further. Each effort to breathe restricted his throat more than the previous, and it felt like someone — Bakugou? But his skin wasn’t burning — had a hand around his throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. If he didn’t do something, eventually something would give and he’d collapse, never to wake up.

It was all his fault, of course, because everything was his fault, wasn’t it? His fault that he was too weak to avoid his capture, too weak to trust the few that believed in him. If they even believed in him, too weak to take All For One’s Quirk, too weak to help All Might fight the Nomu, too weak to do anything right. What was he thinking? Why was he thinking?

His chest constricted, like the pull of All For One’s Quirk trying to stitch his ribs together. Like a sharpened version of the anxiety he felt whenever Bakugou drew near, like the apprehension of walking into a classroom that hated him. And then his vision caved in, like he was back in that dark warehouse with All For One before his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting, like that spike of terror whenever Bakugou lit up an explosion in his palms, like when he felt the overwhelming rush of scorching heat against his skin whenever Bakugou put a hand on him. But he hadn’t seen Bakugou in days, and he hadn’t felt the burn of Explosion on his skin in a month.

Someone was saying something, probably All Might, but all Izuku could feel was a hand back on his shoulder. He flinched violently, jerking away from the touch because he just needed it off of his body before he couldn’t handle the crawling along his flesh any longer. The hand vanished and didn’t reappear, and instead he could vaguely recognize someone moving across the room, stopping on the other side of his bed, and they were still talking, but he didn’t know why they were moving or what they were saying or if they were going to hurt him.

With the little control he still had over his hands, which were trembling so severely he could see them shaking, he clenched them hard. He dug his nails into his palms in some desperate attempt to calm himself. But it didn’t work, because he couldn’t even feel it, and he couldn’t feel the pain of the bruises and cuts he’d never healed, and he didn’t even know if he still had them, and all he truly knew was how his lungs felt too small to hold the little bit of air he could suck in.

His heart was beating erratically in his ears, and maybe that was why he couldn’t clearly hear anything else around him, and he thought tears were dripping down his face, but that feeling could’ve been his imagination. He wondered if this was how he was going to die, suffocating in a hospital bed before someone could figure out what was happening to him, because it felt like a heart attack, but it couldn’t be, but maybe it was, because what did he know, and what had he ever known?

Maybe he deserved to die here, maybe dying here would finally let him do some good for once, maybe that was what he wanted.

Someone was speaking again, the same person who’d spoken earlier, when he’d felt that awful, oppressive touch on his shoulder, and it had to be All Might. He couldn’t hear a word, but he tried to listen, he really did, but his ears were ringing with the sound of his own pulse, and he could still only barely breathe, and all he could focus on was survival, but maybe he didn’t even deserve that.

His vision had degraded further, and now all he could see was what was right in front of him, so he turned his head, searching for the exits he knew were there and trying to pinpoint where exactly the man — All Might — was and whether or not the Pro was going to hurt him. All Might was on his left now, but Izuku had no clue what he was doing, other than the fact that he might’ve been holding out a hand too close to Izuku for his liking, and he flinched away on instinct.

And then everything was happening at once, and his throat closed completely, and he couldn’t breathe, and the world started to cave in. He was suffocating, and he was going to die, but maybe he deserved to die, and maybe he wanted to die, and would anyone even care if he did?

But then the torture subsided, and though it still gripped painfully at his chest, he could breathe again. So he sucked in breath after breath like he’d been drowning for years. And, for all he knew, it had been.

His eyes scanned the room, comprehending very little. Black spots no longer blocked his vision, or at least, not nearly as much. Still, all he could see was All Might, skeletal and alarmed. And another person, who, after staring at her for far too long, he recognized her as his nurse. She was talking to him, he saw. He did everything in his power to at least catch the end of whatever she was trying to tell him.

“—doriya, can you focus on your breathing for me?” she asked, her star-shaped eyes staring into his.

It took all of his energy to nod in a quick, sharp motion. So he tried to match his breathing to her even inhales and exhales, failing at first, still too desperate for air.

“That’s good. Keep that up,” she said. “Would you like for us to back away?”

Izuku nodded again, this time less forced than the first. Though they both backed away, it didn’t do much to alleviate that every-present fear that resided within him, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

Eventually, his pulse faded from his ears and the pain in his chest receded. His breathing evened out too slowly for his liking, but it was working. He didn’t have the capacity to worry about how much time he was taking. Still, a little hope that bubbled from his mind prayed that he wasn’t wasting too much of All Might and his nurse’s time. That they weren’t too burdened by whatever was wrong with him.

Thoroughly drained of any energy he might have built up during the day, he sank into the pillows that supported his back, turning his head to the side to keep an eye on All Might and the nurse. He could only watch them for so long, however. Soon his eyelids were drooping without his permission. Not even the muffled talking of a group on the other side of the door or the presence of two people beside him could keep him awake. So he kept breathing, relishing the feeling of air in his nostrils and his lungs, until his consciousness slipped away from him.

...

Chapter Text

His nurse had insisted that he eat when he woke up, so that was what Izuku did. Even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. He still felt rather terrible, with his stomach churning when he sat up and at the thought of eating, and his head and limbs ached with a heaviness that he hadn’t felt since he first began his daily training in the summer before applying to U.A. All he wanted to do was fall right back asleep, but his nurse had said it would make him feel worse. And he already felt awful enough.

So he drank the sports drink she gave him — lemon-lime flavor, unfortunately — and ate the meal she had laid out in front of him. He ate as much as he thought his stomach could take. When she took his tray away, he thanked her.

She’d let him sleep for half an hour, explaining sleeping too long would leave him feeling more groggy than she was sure he currently was. And although she offered to call Izuku’s mother as well, he declined. It would only upset her more. She was working, anyway— which was why, he was sure, she wasn’t currently there.

Izuku had assumed his nurse would leave after making the offer, but, instead, she took a seat on the stool by his side. He supposed he should have known better.

After a few seconds of Izuku awkwardly avoiding eye contact, she asked if he’d ever experienced something similar to the attack he’d just had. He answered truthfully: no. But, before she could continue, he cut her off. Assuring her that he was indeed receiving help, he told her he would discuss the occurrence later with someone he trusted. She reluctantly dropped the subject. Whether that reluctance was caused by the fact that Izuku wasn’t a great liar, he wasn’t sure. It wouldn’t matter, though.

…

Izuku didn’t see anyone until a few hours later. As he jerked his head towards the sound of the door opening, All Might and Mr. Aizawa closed it quietly behind them. All Might took a seat on the stool once again and Mr. Aizawa stood beside him. Pulling his fingers away from his neck where he’d been instinctively monitoring his pulse, Izuku let his hands rest on his lap. He watched their feet from the corner of his eye.

For a while, they sat in silence. That is, until Izuku could no longer handle the tension. He looked up to meet both their eyes in hopes it would prompt them to begin. It did, and soon enough, All Might started, “Are you feeling better, my boy?”

Izuku nodded slowly.

“I am glad to hear it. I apologize for triggering your attack earlier. It was not my intention to harm you.”

“I know. It’s okay, really. I didn’t know… that would happen either.”

All Might nodded, then paused for a moment before continuing. “I am sorry to say that All For One and the League of Villains escaped, my boy. But the Nomu I fought has been captured and contained. Nobody, including civilians, were killed during your rescue.”

Nobody had been killed during the rescue, but how many had been injured?

“One more thing. We’ve already told the other students, so we thought it’d be best to tell you this now,” Mr. Aizawa broke in. “U.A. will be building dorms to better protect its students. Each class will be getting its own building, so you and Shinsou will move into the 1-C dorm, if your parents allow it. We’ve sent letters to your parents. In a few days, U.A. will be sending teachers to students’ houses to collect responses.”

“Is... is this because of me?”

All Might’s angular face softened. “No, Young Midoriya. Allowing those villains to attack the training camp was the last straw, so to speak. Nezu has been wanting to implement the system for quite a while now.”

So, with the possibility of another kidnapping looming over every parent’s head, the implementation would be successful for any families who refused to pull their children out of U.A. entirely. Of course, that meant Izuku was to blame. But maybe the dorms were for the best. After all, the system would keep U.A. students, especially hero course students, out of the League’s reach. Sure, it would uproot the norm for students in all three years and in all four courses. But if a group of teachers were visiting each student’s house to ask their guardians for permission, then there had to be a choice. If it were mandatory, Principal Nezu most likely wouldn’t bother. If someone truly didn’t want to move, Izuku doubted they would be forced to do so.

“Don’t blame yourself. There’s nothing you could’ve done,” Mr. Aizawa said.

“That’s not true,” Izuku said softly. “I didn’t have to try to become a hero.”

“Is that what you wished you would’ve done?”

Izuku hesitated, then said, “I… If all I do is make things worse… I don’t… think I should...”

“What have you made worse?” Mr. Aizawa asked.

Izuku frowned. Was it not obvious?

“Yes, the League of Villains attacked the hero course’s training camp to capture you. Yes, students were injured in the attack, and yes, heroes were injured during your rescue.” Mr. Aizawa sighed and massaged his temple. “But that’s no reason to give up. If anything, it should make you want to work harder so that it won’t happen again.”

Izuku supposed that was true. What kind of person would he be to cause so much destruction and do nothing but disappear, make every mistake without making up for them? Of course, that would imply he should, as the only person capable, take All For One’s Quirk and every Quirk he had stolen over the years. Which would mean he needed to train his Quirk.

And it would be difficult to increase the number of Quirks he could hold without the help of the hero course students. That is, if Izuku wanted to avoid stealing Quirks from those around him as All For One had done. But would the hero course students let him? Or would they cower away as they ought to do with someone like Izuku, someone who could so easily be a villain, someone who had agreed with a villain?

Korikyu had been lying that day, hadn’t he? There was no fathomable way Izuku was the perfect person to possess Quirk Transfer. (Or should he call his Quirk ‘All For One’?) How could he be, when he had yet to use it in a way that helped people? If he tried again, would he even help at all, or would he only make everything worse?

“Could I… Do you think I could really do that? Make things better?”

“Why not?” Mr. Aizawa asked.

“Yes, Young Midoriya, you can make things better. And that is not all,” All Might said, grinning with his eyes closed. Did he feel comfortable enough to do so because Izuku was in a hospital bed or because he could no longer use his Quirk anyway? Had Izuku taken everything from him? “When you feel ready, we would like you to relay any information about the League of Villains and All For One that you learned during your time there. Perhaps your capture can be a good thing.”

Mr. Aizawa shot him a glare.

Izuku’s capture… a good thing? He had indeed promised himself to tell them as much as he could, no matter how much he questioned the reliability of his analyses. They certainly wouldn’t take his words at face value— they simply wanted his ideas to confirm for themselves whether they were plausible or not. Who would take Izuku’s words as final without first processing them themselves? So, if they wanted to know, Izuku would tell them. Anything to help.

“I’ll do it,” Izuku blurted. “Right now. I can do it.”

“You don’t want to wait?” Mr. Aizawa asked.

“What if I wait a few days, and I forget something important?”

“I think that would be better than dredging up memories too soon. You should take your time.”

Izuku shook his head. “I’m okay. I can do it now.” He dug his nails into his palms. “Please.”

Eventually, Mr. Aizawa said, “All right. We’ll go get you a recording device.” He stood up, and All Might did the same. Moving towards the door, he put his hand on the handle, turned it, and opened it halfway. “Until then, there’s someone who’s been waiting for us to leave.” He glared down at someone on the floor beside the door, nudged them with his foot, and the person groaned. It was Shinsou. “Your turn, kid,” Mr. Aizawa said, and then he and All Might were gone.

“So kind,” Shinsou muttered bitterly, rubbing the soreness out of his neck.

How long had he been waiting there, hurting his neck in an uncomfortable position just to see Izuku when Mr. Aizawa and All Might left? And waiting outside the door couldn’t possibly be allowed— had he brainwashed anyone who had tried to move him to the waiting room?

Shinsou closed the door behind him and took a seat on the stool, not scooting forward despite All Might having pushed it back with his legs when he had stood up. He made a face when he sat down. Probably unhappy with the fact the stool was still warm. His arm was wrapped in a bandage and in a sling, but otherwise, he seemed unharmed. Izuku would offer to fix it with Super Regeneration if he were confident it would have no adverse effects, but he couldn’t risk it.

“Feeling?” Shinsou asked, finally looking up.

A laugh bubbled out of Izuku’s throat, but as soon as it had come, it shifted into a sob. He hunched in on himself, covering his mouth with his hands. The IV tube shifted in his arm, and his brain felt heavy. His skin was still tingling from All Might’s touch, and would it be so bad if he dug his fingernails into his skin with Shinsou beside him? If he dug his fingernails into the soft flesh of his thighs under the bedsheets, Shinsou would be none the wiser.

“Why did you come rescue me?”

Shinsou shot him a look. “Wanted to.” Izuku filled in, Why does anyone do anything?

Izuku pulled his hands away from his face. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Like hell.”

“What if you’d gotten hurt? Or expelled? Did the teachers ever give you any indication that they wouldn’t expel you for putting yourselves in danger like that? Or what if you’d gotten yourself killed?”

“All of 1-A ‘n B went or knew.”

“So, what? They couldn’t expel everyone? They could!” Izuku said. “Mr. Aizawa has expelled his entire homeroom class in the past— I checked when I found out he was a teacher. He’s done it twice. Even if he couldn’t expel everyone, he could’ve expelled you if you’d have kept it a secret from everyone!”

“Knew the risks.”

Izuku’s argument died on his tongue, and he dropped his head, his lips pressed together in a tight line. Even if they accepted the risks, it was his fault that they’d had to take them at all. How could he make it up to them? Could he even make it up to them? Well, he’d have to try. He couldn’t assume his efforts wouldn’t be enough and give up before he’d started.

“Thank you,” Izuku said softly.

Shinsou shrugged. “‘S nothing.”

“It’s everything.”

Shinsou hummed.

“Which is why I’m sorry,” Izuku whispered. “You came to save me, and I doubted you.”

“‘Doubted’?”

Izuku nodded, closing his eyes and covering them with his hands completely. His nails itched to sink into his skin just above his eyes, but he refrained. Not until later. “All For One… he- No. I thought you were… afraid of me. Of my Quirk. That you just came to save me to keep me from becoming a villain.”

“Stop with that. ‘S annoying,” Shinsou said, and Izuku could tell he meant it.

“I’m sorry.” Izuku’s head shot up. “No— I’m not, because I know you hate when I say that a lot… Or was that not irritating? Am I just being more irritating now?” He wanted to scrape his skin right off his bones. Why was he talking? “I just… I don’t understand… why I’m irritating. Right now, I mean. And if you don’t want to be around me anymore, I understand, because I thought… Are you upset because I thought you would think so low of anyone? It’s not like that. I swear. It’s only natural for people to be afraid of me, and of course I don’t think you’re a bad pers—”

Shinsou took a deep breath, clearly to calm himself. He gritted out, “I trust you.”

He had a glare on his face but a hand on the back of his neck. Putting a hand on his neck was a habit of his, one he frequently used when he was uncomfortable. It certainly wasn’t a tic to show he was lying. Whenever he lied, he had a habit of blinking too often. Shinsou regularly blinked more often than what was standard, considering he was always tired. But when he lied, it grew even more obvious.

Izuku was fairly confident in his ability to read Shinsou, at least on everything unrelated to his Quirk, because of this. After all, the tic had been made clear through the countless times Shinsou had attempted to trick one of their classmates into getting themselves into trouble. Usually it was Korikyu, as they were closest to him. However, after Izuku had revealed his Quirk during the sports festival and most of their classmates had taken to avoiding him, Shinsou had switched targets. He’d gone from mostly tricking Korikyu, who was a little too gullible for his own good, to anyone who’d reacted poorly to Izuku’s Quirk reveal.

And how could Izuku have ever doubted his sincerity when he knew that?

“You... do?” Izuku asked. Shinsou gave him a look. “Right. Stupid question.”

Maybe he could read Shinsou as well as he had thought he could. It was All For One who confused him, threw him off, tried to convince him his analyses couldn’t be trusted. The question was: to what extent was All For One correct? Shinsou was telling the truth, was he not? Though Izuku wanted to say he was lying, he couldn’t. Because, logically, nothing indicated he was.

Izuku had spent so many years analyzing people to predict their movements, to know what they were thinking and what they were most likely to do. It was what made him as comfortable as he possibly could be when not alone. Because he could expect what was to come. It wasn’t foolproof, as his body could never quite trust his logical mind. Still, it made everything… better. More bearable. Operating without that structure left too much to the imagination.

So, maybe his best course of action was to assume the best, to assume All For One was an outlier, to assume he could analyze everything else. If not because it was true, then because it was reassurance. Sure, All For One had the same past. Sure, he probably knew better than Izuku what people tended to believe. But he would’ve said anything to coerce Izuku into joining him. Izuku had to assume All For One had been stretching the truth.

“Hitoshi.”

Izuku frowned, tilting his head. “You… want me to call you by your first name?”

Shinsou nodded.

Just barely smiling, Izuku said, “Well, you can call me Izuku.”

Hitoshi nodded again.

Izuku’s smile dropped, and he stared down at his hands as he linked his fingers together on his lap. “I… I was so confident. I really thought I could outsmart him.”

Hitoshi hummed, prompting him to continue.

“I thought… I thought I could read him. I thought… since I could tell what he was trying to do, I’d be able to resist it. But I started to agree with him, and I started to give up, and… was he right? Can I even still try to become a hero?” Izuku met his eyes again, grabbing a fistful of his hospital gown in his hand. “What have I done other than cause trouble for everyone? I’m the reason your arm is broken, and I’m the reason All Might had to retire, and I could’ve tried to take All For One’s Quirks, or the Nomu’s Quirks, or the other villains’ Quirks, but all I did was run, and it’s—”

“So?” Hitoshi asked.

“What do you mean, ‘so’?”

“Y’did nothing wrong.”

“I did everything wrong.”

“Make up for it.”

Izuku wrinkled his nose. Wasn’t that essentially what Mr. Aizawa had told him?

Was it not better to give up entirely, to admit defeat? No, Hitoshi was correct in that sense— if he gave up now, he would only be leaving his mistakes for somebody else to clean up. And who else was capable of putting a stop to the leader of the League of Villains and the creator of the Nomu? It wasn’t a matter of him being the correct person for the task but rather being the only person who could complete it. He could transfer his Quirk to someone else. But how could he, when his Quirk was what it was? Forcing somebody else to carry its burden was cruel. It was villainous.

And, after hearing he could be a hero for the first time when he had met All Might… Whether it had been a lie in All Might’s mind or not, Izuku had vowed to keep moving forward. Did he have a right to give up now, when he would be breaking a promise to himself, and, more importantly, when his decision could hurt others? He had no chance of righting his wrongs if he gave up. If he didn’t keep training, what would everything he’d done so far be for?

Izuku was the one with a nearly identical Quirk. He was the one who could stop the creation of the Nomu, the people tortured and stripped of everything but their corpses by All For One’s Quirk. He was the one who could return the twenty or so Quirks that All For One had stolen.

All For One was a monster, and Izuku was trying not to be. If he didn’t want to become the evil that the public expected him to become, he had to keep fighting. If he couldn’t become a hero, the least he could do was right every wrong he’d committed.

“I have to, don’t I?” Izuku said softly.

Hitoshi shrugged. “If y’say so.”

“Hitoshi?”

He grunted.

“Do you… do you think the world… would be better off if I hadn’t been born? Or… if I died?”

Hitoshi stared at him, tired eyes now wide. “What?”

“I- I’m sorry,” Izuku hurried to say, waving his arms in front of his chest. He laughed awkwardly. “Stupid question again.”

“All For One say that?” Hitoshi asked. He scowled, and it eventually faded somewhat but didn’t disappear. His anger wasn’t directed at Izuku, though. Izuku had to wonder, was Hitoshi truly angry at the idea of All For One telling him he would be better off gone? An assumption that wasn’t at all true, considering All For One very much wanted Izuku alive. But the mere thought had been enough to anger him?

“No! It was just a stupid question.” And it was a stupid question— who else could put a stop to All For One? “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

Hitoshi narrowed his eyes, but all he said, after a long pause, was, “You’ll save lives.” He paused again, eyes shifting to stare at the foot of Izuku’s bed. His hand went back to his neck. “You’re… wanted.”

“That’s why I should be alive?”

Hitoshi nodded, head still facing down.

It didn’t stop Izuku’s mind from wandering to the number of floors in a building necessary to ensure a quick death. Nor could it stop him from wanting to tear the flesh of his face apart with his hands. In fact, it might have made those desires worse. He deserved the most pain he could reasonably inflict on himself for doubting Hitoshi at all, and he wished for the most pain he could reasonably inflict on himself to force himself to stop thinking of the former.

“Are we… friends?” Izuku asked.

“Obviously.” He paused, still rubbing the back of his neck. “Sappy,” he complained.

Izuku laughed a little. “You’re the one who said it.”

…

Chapter Text

All Might poked his head through the doorway just as Izuku was about to ask, once again, how he could repay Hitoshi for gathering everyone and rescuing him. (Hitoshi had refused to answer the first time. After the fourth, he said he accepted payments in the form of Izuku’s proofreading of his essays. Izuku refused to accept it, solely because he already proofread all of Hitoshi’s papers. Hitoshi did the same, though he tended to leave less suggestions. Hitoshi wasn’t to blame for that. Rather, it was Izuku’s tendency to go overboard. Anyway.)

“I have brought a recording device, Young Midoriya,” he said, looking between Izuku and Hitoshi as he offered the voice recorder to Izuku.

Izuku thanked him and took it carefully, doing his best not to graze All Might’s bony fingers. Failing, the skin of his fingertips crawled slightly.

“Would you like us to leave you?” All Might asked.

Hitoshi shifted his weight to rise up off the stool.

Izuku blinked. Well, while he would prefer that All Might leave, he wouldn’t mind if Hitoshi stayed. Sure, it would mean presenting all of his failures to Hitoshi directly rather than through vague references, but maybe Hitoshi’s opinions would shed some logical light onto what Izuku relayed. Izuku was self-aware enough to know he hadn’t reacted to All For One’s words as rationally as he could have.

“I… Actually, could Hitoshi stay?” Izuku turned to him. “If you want to, of course! I don’t want y—”

“I’ll stay,” Hitoshi said, sitting back down.

Izuku shot him a grateful smile, then turned to look at All Might, who had already made his way back to the door.

“Before I go, I would like to apologize,” All Might said, and Izuku frowned at him. What had he done? “I apologize for not rescuing you sooner. If your friends hadn’t appeared, I’m afraid I do not know what would have happened. It is shameful that I needed their help, but I am very glad that they came.”

Izuku shook his head, brows furrowed and sore from overwork. “I should be apologizing. For everything. For getting captured, for not helping you fight the Nomu… I just made everything worse. I just hope… there will be something you can use from what I learned.”

“You have no need to apologize, Young Midoriya. You could not have prevented it. And, had you not escaped, I would not have been able to fight to the best of my ability. Because of you, I was able to bring down the Nomu.”

Izuku bit down on his tongue and nodded. But had he really taken the best course of action, like he had thought at the time? Or was All Might merely consoling him with a lie? Izuku didn’t see an untruth in his words or expression or posturing… was that enough to give Izuku reason to believe him? He supposed it should be enough, but could he accept that? Well, he had told himself to. So he would.

“Well, I will be going. Once again, thank you for agreeing to this. I know it isn’t ideal,” All Might said, opening the door and stepping into the doorway. “I’m glad that you are safe, Young Midoriya. I believe we all are. Everyone was quite relieved to hear you had returned to us.” With that, All Might smiled and let the door shut behind him.

Izuku frowned at the door, and Hitoshi must have seen it, because he said, “‘S true.”

“People… were worried?” Izuku asked. “Why?”

“They care.”

What had Izuku ever done to make them care? Unless, of course, they cared out of fear he would join the League of Villains. “...Why?”

Hitoshi let out an exasperated sigh. “Only one afraid you’ll be a villain’s you.”

“That’s not true,” Izuku said. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“No one y’know.”

“I still...” Izuku trailed off, staring down at his hands. Blood was caked under his fingernails. Doing his best not to make a face, he curled his fingers in to hide them in his palms. “...Find that hard to believe.”

Hitoshi huffed. “Want t’start?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Izuku said, nodding far more than necessary.

He’d irritated Hitoshi, for good reason, because he genuinely didn’t expect Izuku to become a villain. Strangely. But could he speak for everyone else? Their stances weren’t as obvious— they were only obvious to the extent in which Izuku wanted to believe they trusted him. So not as much.

But Izuku couldn’t dwell on the same doubt if he wanted to retain his sanity, so he brushed the thought aside. Now, his duty was to provide as much information as he could. He could now be responsible for at least one positive thing. His meetings, his one-sided conversations with All For One, would not be such horrors if only he would speak of them. So that was what he would do. He would tell them everything he could, from what All For One’s plan was to who Izuku suspected could be the U.A. traitor. Even if Mr. Aizawa would hate him for it forever. On the off chance he was correct, he had to tell, had to help. If he was wrong, what was one more mistake, one more person who hated him?

What else was he to do? He just hoped his analyses would be accurate and would be useful.

Finally, with his fingers curling around and clutching at his hospital gown under the bed sheets, he began. He started from the training camp, when he’d been taken through Kurogiri’s portal — or Warp Gate, as Hitoshi said Mr. Aizawa had called it — to have his wounds poorly dressed by the villains, of which he named every one.

Izuku made sure to include every bit of his analysis on each villain that came up. He included everything from their personality to possible weaknesses based on either appearance or Quirk (if he knew it) or both. Like how he was fairly certain a little flattery would go a long way with Shigaraki. Or how Dabi was likely weak to his own fire, and how he suspected Dabi was Todoroki’s older brother.

It was his retelling of his first conversation with All For One that made him crack, his voice slowly tapering away to a whisper as he let his tears drip onto his thin hospital gown. Sucking in a trembling breath, Izuku willed himself to calm down. He wiped away the cooling tear tracks on his cheeks. Desperate to regain some control over himself, he closed his eyes and relied on his favorite breathing technique. It was one he’d used countless times in the past after a particularly difficult day at school. He worked his way up to inhaling for four seconds, holding his breath for seven, and exhaling for eight.

And then he kept going, raising his voice whenever he caught himself mumbling to ensure the recording device in his lap could pick up his words clearly. He refused to stop. If he did, he would have to continue another time. He spoke of what All For One had said, of every tactic he had used, of how confident he had been. How All For One revealed his Quirk, how it worked, how it was theirs.

“Could you… could you still call my Quirk ‘Quirk Transfer’? Instead of ‘All For One’?”

“Obviously.”

Izuku attempted a smile, though he doubted it was visible with how little he could control his expressions. It took all the strength he had in him to keep going, explaining how he’d accepted his own defeat after a few measly one-sided conversations. How All For One had told him about his plans to build a broken world up from the devastation he would create. How he had said Izuku would never be a hero, and how the audience at the sports festival agreed.

“Liar,” Hitoshi interrupted. “Few said that. Most thought it’s perfect for a hero.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” Izuku said. Because, if Hitoshi wasn’t lying, then what did that say about him? That he’d accepted what All For One said as the truth, never bothering to reject the idea despite previously being so sure he could and would?

Huffing, Hitoshi pulled his phone from his pocket and typed in his passcode. After tapping a few times, typing something, and scrolling, he presented his screen to Izuku. Leaning forward to see, Izuku squinted to read the print of a post from an online forum he recognized. It was the most popular website for people to write comments on fights from the U.A. Sports Festivals. Before their own sports festival, Izuku had scrolled through it to see the reactions of the public to general course students looking to transfer. Overall, people tended to root for them. But Izuku hadn’t expected that to hold true for him.

Eyes scanning down the screen, Izuku read the post. It was similar to his hero analyses from his notebooks. He scrolled down with his first knuckle to avoid dirtying the screen, careful to keep his other fingers hidden so Hitoshi couldn’t see the blood. The post analyzed Quirk Transfer in great depth, mentioning how, with the right combination of Quirks, Izuku could easily climb the ranks as a Pro. Become the Number One, even. The post never once mentioned how a villain could use it better, nor did most of the comments, where some wrote to agree with the analysis. It was certainly a strange sight to see.

“I’m sorry… for doubting you again,” Izuku said quietly.

Hitoshi shrugged. Then, he took his phone back, tapped the screen a few more times, and again showed it to Izuku. Scrolling with his thumb, Hitoshi moved through a number of articles that agreed with the first, and a couple that disagreed. The ones that depicted Izuku’s Quirk as a potential hero’s, however, were more common. Was this what the public believed? Or what they hoped would be reality one day?

“All For One… he said everybody had been afraid of my Quirk after the festival,” Izuku said. And maybe they were all afraid, and were merely hoping for a reality in which Izuku didn’t become a villain, but All For One hadn’t said that. He had made it out to seem as though nobody had considered the benefits of Izuku’s Quirk. “So… I let him win with something that wasn’t even true.”

What else had Izuku believed so readily? Had All For One truly experienced something similar to Izuku growing up? But, with a Quirk the same as Izuku’s, he had to have grown up the same way Izuku had.

“Can’t blame yourself.”

“Yes, I can,” Izuku said, his voice cracking and yet still barely audible. “I was so sure I was smart enough to stand a chance, but I— I was agreeing with him, Hitoshi. He said our hero society was broken. That it was rotten, that it was cruel for not accepting people with villainous Quirks, and I agreed.”

“That’s it?”

Izuku looked up at him.

“Think I haven’t thought that?” Hitoshi asked. “Think it all the time. ‘M no villain.”

Izuku said nothing, staring at Hitoshi and hoping Hitoshi couldn’t see the way he was driving his teeth into his tongue. When Super Regeneration had fully repaired the wound, he bit down again.

“All For One… he said I couldn’t be a hero. That nobody would let me.”

“Y’believed him?”

“Was I not supposed to? Am I not supposed to?”

“What’ve y’been thinking?”

“That,” Izuku started, inhaling deeply, “I would train my Quirk enough to take All For One’s Quirk, help put a stop to him, and then return all the Quirks he’s stolen. Maybe take Shigaraki’s Quirk and the other villains’, too, if I can… I don’t need to be in the hero course to do that. I don’t need to become a hero to do that much.”

Hitoshi gave him that look he tended to give Izuku when he said something profoundly stupid. “Y’don’t need anyone t’tell you y’can be a hero. Just convince Eraser.”

“He believes that… even after all of this?”

“Nothing’s changed.”

“Is just Mr. Aizawa believing in me enough?”

“Up t’you.”

Izuku went silent, and for what felt like an hour, they sat without speaking.

He was grateful that his IV was in his arm, because he’d have to look at it if it was stuck through the skin of his hand. Still, if he moved his arm even a fraction, he could feel the tube shift under his skin. (Whether that was his imagination or not, he didn’t know. He wasn’t about to test it somehow to find out.)

No, hospitals and doctor’s offices weren’t exactly Izuku’s favorite things in the world. They were the sights of surgeries and shots and IVs… They were the places where Izuku would be asked questions he’d rather not answer. And a doctor’s office was the place where he’d been diagnosed as Quirkless, a diagnosis he somewhat wished had been correct. Although that wish was entirely selfish.

It was nearly impossible to remember the days when he believed he was Quirkless. Not that he remembered much of his junior high days either. At least, not awfully specific, time-based memories. They were more like vague descriptions, ones that summarized the events of three years in a couple of feelings like a brief analysis of a villain’s Quirk that Izuku could find online. It was the feeling of flesh burning and melting, the stench of smoke and burnt sugar, the sound of Bakugou’s grating voice, that he remembered well.

Eventually, Hitoshi asked, “Break?”

Izuku shook his head again, then continued. He started from where he had left off, telling Hitoshi of his third conversation with All For One, of his realization that he was useless against the villain. Before Hitoshi could argue, Izuku kept going. Retelling his plan to avoid thinking about their conversations, he mentioned waking up to Toga trying to feed him a protein bar. He was forever grateful that Hitoshi didn’t poke fun at him for it.

Then he moved on, talking about how All Might and the others had burst through the door. Or the wall, in All Might’s case. How Kamui Woods had bound each villain with his Quirk, and how Edgeshot had slowed Kurogiri’s heart rate until he fell unconscious. How he’d been warped to All For One’s side. With that, Hitoshi relayed his part of the story, and their conversation diverged.

“What was… What was Tiger so upset about? When All For One warped me outside, he was there, yelling. Do you know why?” Izuku asked.

Hitoshi made a face, obviously conflicted as he decided whether or not to tell. But, eventually, he said, “Ragdoll’s Quirk’s gone.”

Izuku’s heart sank. “...Because of me.”

“‘S move on.”

Reluctantly, slowly, Izuku listened. “How… did you guys know where to find me if the teachers didn’t help you?”

“Yaoyorozu’s tracking device on a Nomu.”

So there had been a Nomu present during the attack, but it hadn’t killed anyone.

“Yaoyorozu was there too?”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. “Iida ‘n Uraraka.”

“They all came to rescue me?”

“Mhmm,” Hitoshi said. With the casual way he responded, it was as though their rescue mission wasn’t anything special. “Rules stopped most. Cowards.”

Though Izuku couldn’t be sure of their reasoning for aiding in his rescue, he would have to thank them all the same. When their vacation ended and they all returned to school, Izuku would go to them in person. He didn’t have any of their phone numbers. Hitoshi wouldn’t have them either. And it was somewhat ingenuine to thank them through a phone anyway.

Eventually, Izuku returned to his story, hesitantly informing Hitoshi and the recording device of his theory about the U.A. traitor. He made just to include every piece of justification he had to make up for even mentioning the idea, but at least Hitoshi didn’t seem too angry. Shocked, yes, but not really angry. Izuku finished with a retelling of the start of All Might and the Nomu’s fight. Just to ensure Hitoshi’s and his information matched.

“Why’s your Quirk different from mine?” Hitoshi asked.

“Mine is villainous. Yours just seems like it.”

“How?”

“You don’t refuse to use your Quirk when it could actually help. Or not use it to actually do some good. Or use it to hurt people.”

“Neither d’you.”

Izuku stared at his hands, somewhat wishing they were covered in his own blood. “I just steal other people’s Quirks.”

“Y’take Quirks. I take free will. Mine’s worse,” Hitoshi said. “Y’give ‘m back.”

“Well, yes, bu—” Izuku cut himself short, heart plummeting.

Hitoshi leaned in ever-so-slightly. “What?”

“Magne and Muscular. I gave their Quirks to All For One,” he whispered. “Remember? He asked me if I had any Quirks when I was there. How did I not realize? And I’d thought so long about what I should do... But that entire time... And now All For One is gone. Will he ever get the chance to give them back their Quirks?”

“Izuku—”

“Isn’t that what a villain does? Takes a Quirk and never gives it back?”

“Y’didn’t plan it,” Hitoshi said. “‘S it right t’give back a Quirk used t’hurt people?”

Izuku’s lips twisted. “Well, no…”

Hitoshi sat back, clearly satisfied with his win. But it wasn’t as though Izuku would have given their Quirks back if they were still free to end lives as they saw fit. No, he would have merely held onto them and would have given them back when they were securely imprisoned in Tartarus. That wouldn’t have been villainous of him. Well, he had ruined that chance rather spectacularly, but he wouldn’t rest until he’d taken all of the Quirks in All For One’s possession. Then, he could return Muscular and Magne’s Quirks, along with everyone else’s.

“That all?”

“Yeah,” Izuku said, voice wobbling, “I think that’s everything.”

...

Chapter Text

Izuku had decided his course of action, and he would stick to it, no matter what anyone thought of him.

He would train in any way he could and as often as he could. Do whatever it took to grow stronger, to take All For One’s Quirks and put an end to his plan before he and the League of Villains could destroy hero society as he knew it. As long as his training didn’t hurt anyone, he would train. Because he had to. And because, just maybe, it could convince the public, his classmates, his teachers, that he wasn’t a villain.

He would ask to visit Tartarus — where he assumed Moonfish was — to return the Blade Tooth Quirk. Hopefully, he would be allowed to go. Because, in Tartarus, it wouldn’t matter if Moonfish had his Quirk. Tartarus was one of the most secure prisons in the world, and the most secure in Japan. There was no escaping it. Maybe he could escape with All For One’s help, but, realistically, Izuku doubted All For One would go back for him. Or for Magne or Lizard Villain— Spinner.

Izuku would also need to do away with Super Regeneration, because it didn’t belong to him. Whoever it belonged to deserved to get it back. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too difficult to find them.

He wouldn’t think, and he wouldn’t doubt, because he couldn’t allow himself to give in. If he quit now, gave up because nobody believed he could become a hero, would that not be abandoning the people he could save? What kind of person would he be then? Training his Quirk was no longer to transfer into the hero course, to become a hero. It was to save people, whether they believed in him or not. But maybe Hitoshi wasn’t wrong, and Mr. Aizawa would be convinced. And maybe that would be enough. But, if it wasn’t, that would have to be okay too.

This was what he pondered on his way to his mother’s car, which she had parked crookedly in a space partially shaded by a tree.

The car ride home was relatively silent at first, the only noise coming from the low volume of the car’s radio. She’d asked him if he wanted to choose a station, but he’d shaken his head and told her he would enjoy anything. He wasn’t exactly focused on the music. But, after a moment, Izuku glanced from the window to the screen above the AC controls to confirm what he was hearing. Yes, his mother had switched stations to the station that Izuku tended to like. Through the speakers came a song Izuku used to love, and just that alone was enough to make him tear up. Blinking away the tears, he kept his head down. He stared at his dirty red sneakers.

“I’m really sorry, Mom. For worrying you.”

Her eyes met his for just a second before she turned back to the road, slowing the car as the light ahead turned yellow. “It’s not your fault, Sweetie.” She took one hand off of the steering wheel and let it hover over the center console, palm facing down. As per their ritual, Izuku moved his hand until it was a few centimeters under hers, his palm facing up. She smiled. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her voice was trembling when she continued, “I’m just glad you’re okay. That you’re coming back home. I thought… I thought you might never come back to me. That those villains would keep you forever.”

Izuku sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m glad too. And… and I’m going to get stronger. I’ll get stronger so you’ll never have to worry about me again, okay? So nobody has to worry about me again.”

She chuckled, but that little smile dropped quickly. As the car started to move again, she said, “I’ll always worry about you. But I know you’ll become a great hero.”

Izuku didn’t bother swiping away the tears in his eyes, instead opting to stare out the window with a shaky nod. Unfamiliar buildings blurred past as they drove through the city, then onto the highway.

Eventually, they hit their exit, and Izuku’s heart fluttered at the prospect of finally going home.

They passed the coffee shop that his mother loved so dearly, with their sugar cookies that he would get for her every time he stopped by. (He always said he had gone to get a much-needed cup of coffee so she didn’t feel guilty for him going out of his way. That was always a lie— he’d never been able to get used to the flavor of coffee no matter how much cream and sugar went into it.) They then passed the little hero merchandise store that Izuku used to insist they visit at least once a week (and that he still visited occasionally). And the convenience store that Izuku bought every one of his notebooks from.

Finally, they drove past the fourth building of their housing complex and pulled into the street that ran between the third and fourth. It was more relieving than he’d expected just to see the familiar 3 emblazoned on the side of their building, surrounded by weather-worn concrete.

From the passenger seat, Izuku could see their balcony, distinct from the others around it by the lone wooden chair that he often sat in on sleepless nights. Staring out at the city in the distance, lit up by the multifarious lights, was tranquil in a way Izuku couldn’t compare to anything else. All he ever knew in that chair was the sudden feeling of peace. The feeling that he was insignificant in the best way. Because it meant none of his worries mattered, at least for an hour or two. More than once, the sight had convinced him that maybe life was worth living, even if only for one more day. In fact, Izuku would probably be continuing that routine later.

Would he be able to do something similar when he moved into U.A.’s new dorms? He sure hoped so.

After his mother parked in the lot behind the buildings, they stepped out and made their way up the outside stairs that were always freezing. The tension in his muscles relaxed. He hadn’t even known they had been tense. A tightness still gripped at his chest, a feeling that had manifested during the attack on the training camp and had remained. But it lessened, just a little, as he stepped through the threshold and breathed in the scent of pine trees— his favorite scent of the air fresheners she liked to cycle through. She’d done it on purpose, he knew.

Everything was exactly as he had left it, even if it had only been a few days. (It had been a long few days, after all.) Well, everything except a lone envelope resting on the kitchen table. Odd, considering his mother always either threw their mail away immediately or kept it in one of their kitchen drawers.

“What’s this?” he asked, picking it up while looking back at her.

“Oh! It came in the mail yesterday,” his mother said. “It’s for you. Do you recognize the name?”

Izuku did his best to open the envelope, but eventually gave up and broke it up into pieces. He’d never figured out how to open them without doing so. It was embarrassing, really. Pulling the card out, he glanced at the name signed at the bottom: Kota.

“It’s from a boy at the training camp. Mandalay’s cousin’s son,” Izuku said.

“What does it say?”

Dear Mr. Midoriya,
Thank you for saving me even though you barely knew me. I’m sorry for calling you an idiot for wanting to switch classes. Please come back safely so I can thank you in person. Those stupid villains don’t know what they’re thinking trying to get you to join them. You’re not a villain. You’re a hero.

Izuku covered his mouth with his hand, holding the paper away from his body so as to not stain it with his tears. His mother ducked to get a look at his face, clearly concerned, and he passed the letter to her.

“He wrote this letter to thank me for saving him,” Izuku said, voice unsteady. He sat down at the table and looked up at her. “I protected him from a villain who wanted to kill him during the attack. He… he said I’m not a villain. That… I’m a hero. He called me a hero, Mom.”

“Oh, Izuku,” she said softly.

“I was his hero. I used my Quirk in front of him… and he still…” he trailed off. He ran a hand through his hair. “And he didn’t believe in heroes.”

She tilted her head.

He pulled his lips in a tight but wobbling line, then let out a shaky breath from his mouth. He continued, “If I could be his hero… Could I be someone else’s?”

She smiled at him. “Why not?”

…