Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“It’s impossible.” Shinso hovers his hand over his keyboard, fingers twitching indecisively. “And an incredibly poor choice of topic. If this method actually worked, well… we certainly wouldn’t be the first to know about it.”

“But that’s the thing though, we aren’t.” The grin that alights Midoriya’s face is just as warm as ever, but there’s something unusual about his eyes. Something that Shinso can’t quite place. “This is all based on research. Evidence.”

“Circumstantial evidence, maybe. Haven’t you gotten most of your information from chat forums?”

Midoriya’s grin falters slightly. “Yes, but under these circumstances, I’m not sure that makes it any less credible. Forums is the keyword here. Plural. And based on the writing style, vocabulary, and timestamp of each post, they’ve all been contributed by unique sources. The accounts are too similar to be purely coincidental.”

Shinso sighs, leaning his head heavily onto one propped elbow. “And you seriously think Aizawa will agree with you on that?”

“We have to run our thesis by him first regardless, don’t we? What have we got to lose?”

Shinso could say their grade point averages, but he feels that might be just a tad too rude. He’s trying to work on his social filter, an endeavor that still requires a great deal of effort despite his considerable progress. “You really want to do this, don’t you?”

Izuku looks up from his laptop, face blushing a slight shade of pink. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

Shinso notes the dark circles that have begun to form under his friend’s eyes. The way his pupils alternate restlessly between computer screen and conversation partner over the span of seconds, all while glittering with that strange, dark light. “Yeah, I’d say it is.”

Midoriya swallows, raising a hand to smooth down his unruly hair. “We were told to pick a topic that interests us. Does this not interest you, or are you just afraid it’s too ambitious?”

“Oh, it definitely interests me.” The impact of adrenal processes on the body, specifically pertaining to quirk usage and function. When Midoriya had first proposed the topic, it had seemed reasonable enough. It was common knowledge, after all, that adrenaline could temporarily improve the efficacy of quirks. It had always been a natural tool for the extension of biochemical thresholds, the elevation of physical processes. That was why Shinso had agreed to be Midoriya’s partner.

It was only after his friend had finished his first bout of personal research, evolving and twisting the thesis beyond its original scope, that Shinso had begun to regret his choice.

“So, too ambitious then?” Midoriya takes a deep swig of coffee to punctuate the sentence. If Shinso had to guess, he’d say the constant and prolific doses of caffeine are the only thing keeping him from dissolving into a useless heap in his chair.

“Ambitious is an understatement, and you know it,” he accuses. “There’s no way anyone could possibly test this in a controlled environment.”

“Let’s keep it theoretical then. We are allowed to do that. Check the handout.”

Shinso narrows his eyes. He’s fine with keeping the project theoretical. But something tells him that his partner won’t be. Not if he lets him take things any further. “Why are you so obsessed with this hypothesis?”

“I’m not obsessed. I’m invested to a perfectly normal and justifiable degree.”

“This is a high school biology project, Midoriya, and you haven’t slept since the day it was assigned. This is more than obsessive, it’s unhealthy.” He leans across the table, shutting his friend’s laptop with a satisfying click. “You need to take a break. Let me talk to Aizawa before class. I’ll tell him why we don’t have a topic planned. Either he understands or he doesn’t, I don’t care. Your sleep schedule is more important.”

“Hypocrite.” Midoriya grimaces for a moment, gaze fixated on the now inactive device. Then, the silence is broken by a crisp notification ding. “That’s me. Wait a second.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, eyes widening for a moment before his fingertips move to dance across the screen. As he completes the action, his frown steadily morphs into a brilliant grin, one that doesn’t disappear even as he returns his phone to its prior resting place. He tilts his chin up at Shinso.

“Okay, fine. I have a proposition for you. If you shut this down now, then you know I’ll only research further on my own. I’ll probably keep pulling all-nighters and exploring obscure websites, except that at that point, you won’t have any reasonable say in how I do it. You also won’t be privy to anything interesting I happen to find, and you did just tell me you’re curious. On the other hand… if you let me request to explore this topic, and I receive a dismissal, I promise to drop it entirely. No more investigation, independent or otherwise. And you’re sure Aizawa will say no, aren’t you? You can’t lose.”

Shinso wrinkles his nose. He’s never seen Midoriya like this, so fervent and restless. He’s also never heard him deliver an ultimatum. The past two days have been full of surprises. He thinks for a moment.

“Fine. But you have to hold up your end of the bargain.”

Izuku nods. “I’d never break a promise.”

“Sure.” The word is drowned out by the buzz of the first bell, accentuated by the magnitude of the library’s speakers. Midoriya only sways a bit when he stands to address it. Shinso follows his lead, albeit with noticeably more grace.

“Ready to be proven right?” It almost sounds as though there’s a familiar edge to Midoriya’s voice. The rustlings of a challenge. Which is odd, because he’s only ever spoken like that on the battlefield. Shinso chalks it up to exhaustion-fueled hysteria.

“Always. Let’s head to class. And try not to fall asleep on your way there.”

“So, what did your group decide on?”

Shinso avoids Kaminari’s eyes, instead staring intently at the classroom door. Of all the days for Aizawa to show up late, of course he’d have to pick today. “Nothing, yet.”

“Oof.” Kaminari flinches back, clutching his heart in an exaggerated show of sympathy. “That sucks, Man. You’re definitely getting an earful. To be honest though, I’m kinda glad it’s not me this time. Jiro really pulled through on this one.”

“Oh, really?” Shinso feigns interest, turning to raise an eyebrow at his friend. “What’s your topic?”

“We’re researching the long-term effects of emitter quirk use on nerve tissue. Mostly the brain, I think. We’re gonna have to look up brainwave graphs and stuff. I think Jiro called it electro… uh, electro-something-graphy. It’s actually pretty cool.”

Shinso nods approvingly. The topic actually is fairly interesting, albeit a little broad. It also makes sense, considering that Kaminari possesses an emitter quirk. “Sounds like it. Keep me updated.”

“For sure. Who’s your partner, by the way? Is it their fault you don’t have a plan of attack yet? I mean you’re usually so on top of this kind of thing. Did you get stuck with Mina or something?”

“Uh, no,” Shinso states, taking note of the piercing glare Ashido has begun to radiate mere feet away. She definitely overheard that. Luckily, that’s Kaminari’s problem, not his. “I’m with Midoriya.”

His classmate’s eyes go wide. “Whoa. That’s even weirder then. He’s crazy into quirk research. Couldn’t decide on one idea?”

Shinso shrugs noncommittally. When he looks over his shoulder, Midoriya is still seated in the same position he’s been holding since arrival, head cradled lazily in his folded arms. He’s happy to see him getting some rest, though he honestly doubts it’ll last long. “Something like that.”

Just as the tardy bell rings, the classroom door swings open, revealing a characteristically disheveled Aizawa. Based solely on the glitter coating his sleeves, Shinso would be willing to stake a reliable bet on Eri as the primary reason for his delayed entrance. He glances back, once more at Midoriya, who has now raised his head to flash Shinso an innocent grin. 

Midoriya watches after Eri regularly. It’s possible that he may even have been contacted for advice had she decided to act difficult this morning. And if Izuku had correctly guessed that Shinso would attempt to convince Aizawa of the detrimental nature of his research topic prior to class, or better yet that he’d been banking off it, then it would’ve been in his best interest to keep the fact that their teacher would be late a secret.

Shinso resists the urge to return Midoriya’s smile with a scowl, but only barely.

“Take your seats,” Aizawa commands. “I’m sure you all know what’s first on today’s agenda. Have one member of your group raise their hand. Once you’re called, you will state your partner’s name and your chosen research topic. Remember, this project is a major grade. Make sure that whatever you’ve selected is something you can use to form an arguable thesis.”

Shinso takes his seat at the room’s fringes. It’s only a bit uncomfortable being the odd number out in an unfamiliar classroom. Even before he reaches his desk, he sees a number of hands shoot into the air, the majority of his new classmates eager to share their proposed topics. He sighs.

Aizawa only takes a moment to scan the crowd before choosing his first victim. “Alright, Kirishima.”

“My partner is Bakugo, and we’re going to be researching the extents of Mendelian Inheritance in relation to quirks. We’ll be looking for factors that contribute to the genetic outliers who inherit quirks dissimilar from those in their family, as well as exploring why the ratio of predictable quirks to mutated ones is so skewed.”

Aizawa considers for a moment, then nods. “Approved. Refine it, and I'm sure it will provide some very interesting results. Uraraka?”

“I’m with Asui. We’re studying quirk frequency. We want to find out why some types of quirks are so much rarer than others. Y’know, like, trace back certain quirks from the earliest generations to see how exactly they developed, and find out whether more common ones evolved divergently or convergently.”

“A bit broad. Narrow it down, and I can see it being passable.” Shinso watches as Aizawa’s eyes land, definitively, on Midoriya. He cringes. “Midoriya?”

“Shinso and I are going to research the Quirk Awakening phenomenon. I believe that it’s related to high levels of adrenaline, more specifically those that have been measured under resuscitative conditions. There’s been evidence of individuals dying and being revived only to present inexplicable improvements in the versatility, performance speed, and power output of their preexisting quirks. In radical conditions, even the quirkless have been known to mutate abilities through this method. We want to prove that it's possible.”

Aizawa’s eyebrows both raise in unison. “Midoriya, as I’m sure you’re aware, there’s absolutely no scientific evidence to support the existence of the Quirk Awakening Phenomen, much less to the degree you’re proposing. In fact, I believe that there’s more evidence against it.”

Shinso releases a long-held sigh of relief. Of course Aizawa agrees that Midoriya’s idea is insane. Any rational person would.

“That being said, you and Shinso are both incredibly reliable students, and I’ve always believed people learn best through failure. I trust you’ll present me with something intriguing, if not entirely factual. Not that it’ll help your grade any. If you’re really certain you want to do this, I’ll approve it.”

Midoriya’s whole face lights up. “Yes, we are.”

“Fine then. Yaoyorozu, you’re up next.”

A string of new proposals follow, but Shinso doesn’t really catch many of them. He’s too busy watching Midoriya for a reaction. Oddly enough though, his expression has lowered in intensity from its earlier manic state. The wild gleam in his eyes has dulled over, replaced by a more familiar, muted spark. Shinso allows his shoulders to slump.

Maybe, now that the topic has been approved, Midoriya will calm down. Shinso can deal with a failing grade, and so can Midoriya. It really isn’t too big a deal.

But still.

Something about Midoriya’s earlier expression doesn’t leave him. Recounting it, he can’t help but shiver. He’ll seriously need to start carrying his weight with research, that much is evident. If not to help Midoriya sleep, to prevent that obsession from taking hold again. It shouldn’t be hard.

Chapter Text

Shinso clicks the rewind button for the third time in a row, squinting in the glow of computer light. Sitting beside Izuku in the darkness of his dorm room, Shinso can’t help but find the footage ominous. Cautionary. He studies every unusual element it presents, searching for the fuzzy edge of a figure against greenscreen, the slight unrealism of cgi, something, anything to disprove the credibility of the unexplainable event unfolding within the confines of his laptop screen. He can’t find a thing.

“Cool, right?” Midoriya leans to the side, craning his neck for a better view. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to find that. The dark web is much more difficult to navigate than you’d think. It’s definitely worth it though, the sources accessible by search engine were all vastly less compelling. I have more new findings if you want to check them out, but my research into this one is definitely the most extensive.”

The video, which is approximately ten minutes long, opens on a shot of a smoking, horizontally compressed car, its front half squeezed against the side of a cobbled bridge. The street is otherwise deserted, obviously rural in nature. It’s evident from the gore coating the wreckage that the couple occupying the car’s passenger and driver seats are dead beyond any hope of resuscitation, though there is a slight figure in the backseat, a young girl, who might have some hope of survival. A man can be heard shouting something in German before appearing in frame, motioning for whoever is holding the camera to stay back.

He approaches the wreckage, managing, after some struggle, to wrestle the child from the car’s brutal corpse. He carries her, fireman style, setting her down about halfway between the camera and the car. Then, he feels for a pulse. Midoriya has told Shinso that the word the man speaks next apparently translates to “nothing.” The person holding the camera, a woman, chokes out a hard sob. She says something Midoriya claims is the man’s name, her finger entering the shaky frame to point at the girl’s chest. The man begins performing compressions. The camera gets shaky for a bit, its holder now full-on caterwauling as CPR is administered.

Up until then, the video is fairly mundane. Undeniably sad, of course, but common. Explainable. It’s what happens next that isn’t.

The man shouts the woman’s name before exclaiming, enthusiastically, that the girl is alive. The camera drops. And then, the woman screams. Because her husband is gone, enveloped in an enormous column of white flame the likes of which any member of the Todoroki family could only dream. From the camera’s new angle in the dirt, the footage captures just how incredibly the blaze burns, covering an area that Shinso guesses to be five meters in diameter and at least twelve meters high. It would be breathtaking, if not for the circumstances. After a few minutes of sobbing, and begging, and rounding the column’s perimeter, the woman watches it die out entirely. Her husband is nowhere to be seen, but the girl is very much alive, and in terms of flame-related injuries, unharmed. Even her clothing is intact. The woman dissolves into a heap on the ground, weeping. The girl stands, eyes glazed over with shock. She spots the camera, walks over, lifts it, and shuts it off.

Then, the screen goes black.

“Cool isn’t the word I’d use.” Shinso sucks in a breath. “This is tragic.”

Shinso doesn’t say it, but he thinks it’s a little sick that the woman recorded the aftermath of the crash. It’s even sicker that he and Midoriya are watching it. He hates the intrigue it sparks in him, the voyeuristic desire to study it, dissect it, mull it over, and then hit replay. It’s even worse that he was lying, just a bit, to Midoriya. The video is definitely tragic, that much is certain. But the idea that someone, potentially anyone, could naturally enhance their quirk to such an obscene degree is, to put it extremely bluntly, cool.

As loath as he is to admit it, Shinso has been successfully hooked. Morbid curiosity is still curiosity, after all.

“I never said it wasn't.” Midoriya’s voice is soft. Dejected. As if he can't believe that Shinso would ever accuse him of disregarding the gravity of lost lives. “I know that it's bad that this happened, and I would never trade anyone's life for this kind of evidence, you know that. I’m not downplaying what happened, I just…”

His voice trails off, and he begins to tap one finger against the mattress below them. He's obviously trying to relocate his lost train of thought. His gaze flicks back to the laptop screen. He doesn’t succeed.

“Did you know that the girl in the video used to be quirkless?” And just like that, the calm is gone again, replaced with all-consuming zeal. This happens every so often, Midoriya falling out of whatever spell has caught hold of him only to be drawn back in again the second an interesting enough realization catches his fancy. Occasionally, Shinso can deter his friend’s more obsessive tendencies for long enough to convince him to sleep or spend time with friends. Usually not for too long, but even so, he has to take his wins where he can get them. The four hours Midoriya claims to have gotten last night are definitely a victory, at the very least.

“No, but I don’t see how you could either. Didn’t you just say you found this on the dark web?” Shinso asks, closing the link. “And completely devoid of any context contributed by the original poster? How did you bypass that?”

“Well, first, I used a combination of factors to track down the individuals involved.” Midoriya swipes up his research notebook from its place on the bedside table, flipping through it at a considerable place before stopping, decisively, on a densely populated page. “The location of the event was the easiest to place. I sort of found out where the bridge was located and worked outward from there. A reverse image search turned up nothing, but that didn’t really mean much. The video is pretty grainy, after all. The people in the video are obviously speaking German, and after some digging, I found out that the dialect is apparently Bavarian, which I really thought would narrow the field of possibility more than it did. Turns out that it’s mainly spoken in Southern Germany, but it’s also used commonly in some surrounding nations.”

He holds his notebook up to Shinso with one hand, using the other to indicate the messy hand-drawn map within. It features a number of different countries, the majority of which are marked with clusters of hastily scrawled x’s. “I eliminated Germany first, then Austria. Once I got to Belgium, I started to doubt myself a bit. It was sort of a last-ditch effort before I started deep-diving into the world of European bridges, and a pretty flimsy one at that. Although German is the official language of Belgium, Bavarian really isn’t especially popular there, and these two have fairly thick accents. It wasn’t likely I’d find anything, but I still wanted to try. Turns out, I was lucky I did.”

He taps a spot on the map with his finger. It’s been circled, rapidly and with considerable pencil pressure, about ten times over. “From there, the rest was easy. Jacob and Lina are both fairly common German names, and without a surname to match, they’re pretty useless. But if you search them up with a location and a few keywords, it’s easier than you’d think to find an obituary. I used the time of year, which obviously had to be late Spring, Summer, or early Autumn based on the weather and clothing, the make and model of the crashed car, and the generalized ages of the individuals involved. It worked, but this is where things get weird. Instead of finding the three obituaries I was expecting, I found five.”

Midoriya is speaking quickly now, almost too quickly to comprehend. His hands gesture as he speaks, flying wildly around him in a halo, and the strange, manic look in his eyes is growing noticeably more pronounced. “According to all official records, Jacob and Lina Köhler were driving back home from visiting some relatives in Northern France when they had a head-on collision with a drunk driver who happened to be returning from a party with his wife and daughter. Supposedly, all involved parties died on impact, including Lina Köhler and the drunk driver’s daughter, Marie.”

“And you think it was a cover-up?” Shinso tries not to let too much intrigue show in his voice, afraid of further encouraging his already fanatic classmate.

“I’ll get to that part,” Midoriya assures, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “But first, there are a few other facts to touch on. While Marie’s mother possessed an extremely weak combustion quirk, both she and her father were registered quirkless, extra toe joint and all. The info was easy to find; Marie’s mother actually ran a popular parenting blog chronicling ‘the struggles of raising a quirkless child’ before her death, which despite being unimaginably obnoxious and infantilizing, did provide the facts that I needed to connect the dots. It also had pictures of Marie. The most recent additions perfectly matched the girl in the video, confirming that I’d found the right family.”

He catches his breath for a moment, readjusting the notebook in his lap. “So not only did Marie’s latent genetic disposition for a pyrokinetic quirk activate, but its potential was enhanced far, far beyond the level displayed by anyone in her traceable lineage as well. At least if the video is anything to go off of, that is. And there most definitely was a cover-up. See, I was wondering why there were so few sources available on this, and for a while, I was just convinced that the phenomenon was especially rare. Don’t get me wrong here, it is, and for reasons that I’ll go into depth on later, but there’s also an additional level of obfuscation at play here. Someone is working to prevent these cases from going viral on an international scale, and I can see why. No drugs currently exist that can enhance quirks to such a ludicrous degree, temporarily or otherwise, and especially not without causing chronic side effects. If villains were to get ahold of this information, the consequences could be disastrous. Additionally, if the world’s quirkless population knew that there was a way to ensure the development of a quirk, even if the method was incredibly dangerous, I’m sure there’d be a lot of unnecessary deaths.”

“Alright.” Shinso bites the inside of his mouth. Midoriya’s conspiracy theory is starting to make a lot more sense than he’d like it to. “But how do you know for sure that there’s some global scheme going on here? One case like this isn’t enough to prove anything of the scale you’re proposing.”

“I’m glad you asked!” Shinso can tell by Midoriya’s too-wide smile that he very much means it. “You know those accounts I found via search engine? The ones you said seemed entirely baseless?”

“You mean that slapdash collection of posts from practically ancient chat forums?”

“Right! Well, I did some digging and found out who posted a few. A few were just average civilians, but a vast majority were heroes and paramedics. Emphasis on were. Around the same time each story was made public, things started to go wrong in their respective poster’s careers, resulting in their eventual dismissals, all less than two months following the event they describe. Most mention that their choice to share their experiences violates nondisclosure agreements, but some seem almost painfully aware of the fact the action is likely to result in the end of their careers. I think they were probably threatened, and whoever made the threat followed through. Most of them were unemployed for the remainder of their lifetimes, which didn’t last long after the point that they had faded into obscurity enough to disappear quietly. Because I thought you might question the validity of my research, I tacked the bulk of my evidence for this point to the bottom of the doc I sent you.”

Shinso scrolls down past the link at the top of the page. Just as promised, there’s a dense collection of screenshots, records, and highlighted text packed into the latter parts of the document, most of it heavily annotated. “Holy shit. Midoriya, there’s no way you obtained half of these records legally.”

His friend shrugs. “There wasn’t any way around it. Like I said, someone is obscuring this information, and I’m pretty sure that they have connections in the government. I don’t feel too guilty considering the lengths they’ve gone through to hide it. They’ve buried a lot of people, Shinso.”

Shinso’s breath catches. If what Midoriya says is true, then a lot of people have died knowing what he knows now. No. A lot of people have died because of what he knows now. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing.”

“No, this is a dangerous game we’re playing.” Midoriya shoots him a downright feral grin. “Unless you don’t want to know more, that is?”

Shinso wants to step back now. If Midoriya is Icarus, feathers poised inches from the Sun, then he’s Dedalus, supplying the wings. If he continues to press, then he knows there’s no going back. Once he opens Pandora’s Box, that’s it. Or maybe he already has. Even so, he clutches its lid.

“You said that these events were uncommon, but you didn’t say why. Care to elaborate?”

He can tell from Midoriya’s elated smile that he sees it too. Shinso has chosen to step over the line.

“I believe it takes a very particular brand of person to trigger Quirk Awakening. Or more precisely, a very particular mentality,” Midoriya posits. “Whatever causes this is a survival mechanism, and accordingly, the most pivotal factor in its activation is a will to survive. You don’t just have to cling to life, you have to fight for it, and ferociously at that. Most people simply don’t have the willpower. I’m sure there are other factors, of course, but this is the one that I believe to be the most prominent.”

Midoriya has one of the strongest willpowers of anyone Shinso has ever met. He sincerely hopes that his friend isn’t conscious of the fact. “Can we even use any of this for our project?” he asks, scrolling up and down, listlessly, through the evidence Midoriya has provided. “We shouldn’t have this information. And besides, if what you’ve said is true, sharing it could be dangerous.”

His friend shakes his head. “No, I don’t think we can. The project isn’t due for another two weeks though. We can probably convince Aizawa to let us change topics, if we really beg.” Midoriya doesn’t sound like he particularly cares either way.

Shinso sighs disdainfully. It’s obvious that if he decides to pursue another topic, he’ll be doing it alone. Midoriya is far too enamored with the one he’s already found. “It’s fine, don’t even worry about it.”

“Does that mean you’re willing to continue helping me?”

Shinso deliberates for a moment. Then he nods. “Yeah, unfortunately, I think I am.”

“Alright then.” Suddenly, a hand lands on Shinso’s shoulder, guiding his torso to face his friend’s. Midoriya locks his own sunken eyes with his classmate’s, their spark as intense as a funeral pyre. “I know this is a little sudden, but what would you say if I asked you to kill me?”

Chapter Text

“I’ve already told you, my answer is no.” Shinso holds the metal teapot under the sink, watching with mild disinterest as its internal water level rises. Once it reaches the desired height, he shuts off the facet, causing it to emit a sharp hiss. “So stop asking.”

“C’mon, please?” Ashido clasps her hands together, leaning her torso over the bar that separates her from her classmate. “You’d really be helping me out. Hagakure says I need to get at least twenty surveys completed and signed before we can start working on our paper, and I only have seven so far!”

Shinso wrinkles his nose, shifting to set the now full teapot on a burner. “That’s too bad. If it’s any consolation, I do sympathize with you.”

Ashido’s shoulders slump. “Yeah, no, it really isn’t. What’s keeping you from saying yes? Is it the number of questions? There’s only thirty, and most of them are multiple-choice, so it won’t take as long as you’re probably thinking.”

“Sorry, but that’s not it. I just don’t like answering personal questions.” In truth, that’s only half of it. Ashido and Hagakure’s project explores the theoretical link between quirks and the personalities of their users. They’re attempting to defend the idea that a person’s traits and desires are either influenced subconsciously by their quirks, or form as a result of them, with more powerful quirks producing more marked impacts. Shinso isn’t fond of the thesis for reasons he thinks should be obvious.

“Ugh, fine, that’s fair I guess. But if you really feel sympathetic, then could you maybe point me in the direction of someone who does?”

Shinso adjusts the heat of the common room’s stove, using one lazy shoulder to shrug. The water isn’t boiling nearly quickly enough for his liking. “Do I look like I have a lot of friends? You know pretty much everyone I know.”

Ashido pouts, placing both hands firmly on her hips. “Oh c’mon, you have to be friends with someone from the General Ed course! And even if you aren't, well… you and Midoriya are working together for your project, right? Do you think you could ask him to come find me? I’ve barely seen him at all this week, and I know he’d be willing to help out if I could just ask him.”

Shinso stifles a groan. He definitely doesn’t want to talk to Midoriya right now. Not after how their last conversation ended. It’s already been difficult enough to avoid him for a full day. Even being in the common room runs a risk, one he’s only willing to take long enough to prepare his tea. “Have you tried texting him?”

Something slams down against the bar behind Shinso with a resounding bang. “He isn’t answering his phone. And I think you know why.”

Shinso tries his best not to startle. He thinks he does a decent job. “Good morning to you too, Bakugo. It’s great to hear that you're still your usual, cheerful self.” He can’t help but smirk a bit at the ensuing growl. He’s probably lucky that he’s facing a wall.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Bigmouth.” Shinso raises an eyebrow at that. He wonders, silently, if Bakugo is using the denotation as an insult, or if he’s already legitimately forgotten his new classmate’s name. “This is way more important than your stupid teapot.”

“Hm,” Mina hums, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “I think I’m gonna head back to my room now. You two have fun.” She’s gone before Shinso can finish turning around. He really can’t blame her.

Bakugo slams his other hand down on the countertop. “Deku is acting off, and you’re the only person he’s been speaking with regularly since Monday. What’s wrong with him?” Shinso rolls his eyes. Leave it to Bakugo to be painfully direct.

“Aren’t you two friends? Or, at the very least something tangentially adjacent to that? Maybe you should ask him directly.”

Bakugo’s eyes fixate on the fridge. “He’s been avoiding me. And pretty much everyone else, too. Didn’t you hear Raccoon Eyes?”

Shinso nods. “Guess so. Just thought maybe you were different.” He really shouldn't push Bakugo’s buttons half as often as he does, but sometimes, it’s hard to resist. Especially considering that he makes it so Goddamn easy.

The statement lands. Bakugo’s right eye twitches. “I am. That’s why this is so fuckin’ weird. Now stop avoiding the question. Does this have something to do with your biology project?”

“Maybe,” Shinso replies vaguely, waving a hand haphazardly through the air. “That would make sense, wouldn’t it?” Although he hadn’t agreed to Midoriya’s request for help, he had agreed to his request for secrecy. Neither of them were to share any of their findings with their classmates, especially, Midoriya had emphasized, not Bakugo. Shinso had wondered a bit at the distinction at the time, but now, it appears as though his temperamental classmate might just be nosy enough to necessitate the extra precaution.

“You,” Bakugo growls back. “Are going to answer me clearly and concisely, or I'm going to go find that nerd and get the information I need myself.”

Shinso sighs. “Okay, it has to do with our project. So what?”

“Shit,” Bakugo swears, mouth twisting into a surprisingly non-triumphant grimace. “He’s doing something on Quirk Awakening, right?” His eyes have grown surprisingly dull over the past few seconds, and when he runs a hand through his hair, Shinso can tell the gesture is a nervous one.

“Uh, yeah.” Shinso cocks his head. “ We are. Is that concerning for some reason?” As little as he’d like for Bakugo to delve further into subjects he shouldn’t, Shinso needs to know what’s instilled such an all-consuming need for quirk improvement in Midoriya. A need so incredible that he seems all too willing to risk his life. It isn’t healthy, and if there’s some deeper reason for it, then that means Shinso can stop it. Or at the very least, try to. Midoriya hasn’t given up on him quite yet, but once he does, Shinso is worried that he may find some drastically less secure avenue of death to exploit.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Why is that, exactly?” Shinso presses, leaning back against the edge of the counter. He fiddles with a loose strand of hair, trying his best to feign disinterested nonchalance.

Bakugo’s eyes narrow. “That’s none of your business.”

“Isn’t it though?” Shinso clicks his tongue. “Because I’m going to need a really good explanation before I tell you anything else about what we’ve been working on.”

“Okay, fine.” The set of Bakugo’s mouth is absolutely murderous. “Deku’s quirk came in late. He didn’t get it until he took the Yuuei entrance exams. Before then, everyone thought he was quirkless, and some clueless morons were pretty shitty to him ‘cause of it. He wanted a quirk really bad, and he would've done just about anything to get one. Being Deku, he actually decided to try. All of his research led to dead ends, but some of it led to dangerous dead ends. Experimental drugs, crackpot theories, shady web forums promising in-person meetups, the works. Everything turned out okay back then obviously. Luckily his mom always stepped in before things got serious, and he’s at Yuuei like he wanted now, so he should be fine. But he’s sorta still got a complex about it, so I thought he might be a little reckless when it comes to this kind of thing. There, you happy?”

Shinso rubs his chin thoughtfully. That all checks out. Based on the way Bakugo averts his gaze when he says ‘clueless morons,’ Shinso can’t help but wonder what part he played in the whole debacle. “Yeah, actually, I am. Thanks for the info.” As if on cue, the teapot begins to whistle. Shinso hadn’t planned that, but he’s definitely willing to take it as divine evidence that his daily acquaintance conversation quota has been met. He grabs his mug and fills it with boiling water before setting the teapot aside, switching off the stove, and making a break for the stairs.

Before he can advance past the kitchen's threshold, he feels a hand land on his shoulder. “Not so fast, Bigmouth. You owe me some answers.”

“To what? I already answered your question.”

Bakugo’s grip strengthens. “Stop playing dumb. You know what I’m asking. Have you and Deku been looking into anything dangerous?”

Shinso exhales a harsh breath. It takes all his willpower to resist activating Brainwash. “Let go of my shoulder.”

Bakugo begrudgingly complies, though he doesn’t back away. “I’m only looking out for him, you know. He’s more impulsive than you think.” Shinso somehow doubts that. His read on Midoriya’s impulsivity is already startlingly high.

“Fine. If you really want to help him, then tell me what to say to him. I’ll talk him down.”

Bakugo scoffs. “What makes you think-”

“He’s only speaking to me,” Shinso interrupts. “So if you want to get through to him, you don’t have much of a choice.”

Bakugo’s hands ball into fists. “Jackass.”

“Yep. Unfortunately for you though, this jackass is your only option, so you should probably stop threatening him and start taking advantage of the only offer he’s chosen to make you.”

Bakugo’s glare is harsh enough that if looks could kill, Shinso would be dead at least thrice over. After a few incredibly tense moments, his gaze drops. “Tell him… ugh, God, tell him I’m sorry. And that he doesn’t have anything to prove. Also that Roundface, Glasses, and Icy-Hot want him to get some sleep. They wouldn’t stop pestering me about it.”

There's a beat of contemplative silence.

“Sure. I’ll do that.” 

And with that assurance given, Shinso is gone.

“Open up, it's me.”

Shinso hears the lock on the door release, metal clicking against metal, before it creaks, ever so slightly, open. 

“Just you, right?” Shinso can only make out one of Midoriya's eyes in the space between the door and its frame, but the sliver of visibility is enough to know that he still hasn't caught up on lost sleep. “No one else around the corner?”

Shinso sighs. “Just me. I told you I wasn't going to tell anyone.”

“Right, yeah.” Midoriya holds the door open, shutting it, softly yet decisively, as soon as his guest has passed its threshold. “I trust you, I just… wanted to be sure.” The lie in Midoriya’s words is palpable, but Shinso doesn’t really mind too much. He wouldn’t trust himself either, not after noting the obvious disapproval he had shown for his friend’s prior request. He’s honestly a bit surprised that his classmate still holds any hope that he’ll decide to help.

“We need to talk.”

Midoriya’s mouth sets into a firm line. “Hm. That doesn’t sound very promising. I’m assuming you’re not here to tell me you’ve had a change of heart?”

“Predictably enough.” Shinso takes a seat at Midoriya’s desk, sparing a moment to scan the collection of open-faced notebooks dotting its surface. “And even less surprising, it seems you still haven’t decided to abandon your research.”

Midoriya averts his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “You said that you wouldn’t help because it wasn’t safe. I can make it safe, Shinso. I’ve found some methods that-”

“No, Midoriya.” Shinso allows his voice to turn harsh. “You can’t. There’s no way to make suicide safe.”

“It isn’t suicide,” Midoriya protests, shaking his head. “Not if the whole point is to be brought back. I know it’s a lot of pressure, but I promise I can make it easy for you. You’ll barely have to do anything aside from perform CPR, and I know you know how. The General Ed courses have to take certification classes too.”

“There’s always a margin of error with death, and if you took the same health class I did, then you know that as well as I do. Once your heart stops, there’s no promise that I can bring you back, and what’ll happen if I can’t? Your friends, your family, everyone will think you killed yourself, and I’ll be implicated in assisting suicide!” Shinso can’t help it now, his voice is rising to a fever pitch. “And for fucks sake, we can’t even prove this will work! You’ve said so yourself that the results you’re looking for are extremely rare. Out of the thousands of people that die every day, what makes you think you’ll be any different?”

Midoriya hangs his head, somehow managing to look dejected despite the fervor still swimming in his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is stiff. “You don’t get it. I need to do this, Shinso.”

“Why?” He asks. “Because Bakugo bullied you for being quirkless as a kid? I understand the impact of that better than most, trust me, but it’s hardly a good motivation to endanger your life, especially now that things have changed.”

His friend’s posture snaps into rigidity, eyes going wide. “You told him?”

“No. But I think he might’ve guessed. He cornered me in the kitchen and asked me to apologize to you for him. He also said you were a late bloomer. I put two and two together.”

Midoriya sighs, rubbing his eyes with an open palm. “As grateful as I am for that, he’s really overestimating his influence. Guess that’s pretty typical of Kacchan, though. No, he’s only part of the motivation for this.” He gestures broadly at the notebooks scattered across his desk.

“Okay then.” Shinso folds his arms on the back of the chair, resting his chin between them. “What’s the rest of the story?”

Midoriya exhales another sigh, this one considerably deeper than the last. “You sure you wanna hear it? It’s a bit pathetic.”

Shinso shrugs. “As long as you’re okay with sharing.”

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Midoriya walks over to his bed, falling back onto it with a resounding thud. Both his arms rise to cover his face in a cross, concealing his expression from view. “I’ve always wanted to be a hero. I know most kids do, but… well, this is going to sound really self-absorbed, but I think I wanted it more than almost anyone else, Kacchan included. And I was always so sure that it would be possible. Quirks were a pretty popular topic of conversation in my house growing up, more on part of my father than my mother. He was convinced that I would inherit his, and that was what most of our interactions hinged on. It wasn’t anything rare, just a fire-breathing quirk, but he always implied there might be more to it. I don’t know. It didn’t really matter as much to me as impressing him did.”

There’s a heavy pause. “He left around the same time I was diagnosed as quirkless. Mom got divorce papers in the mail. She was just about as devastated as I was, and I blamed myself for all of it. What Kacchan did certainly didn’t help, but he was a kid. He didn’t know better. I mean it definitely didn’t change the impact of his actions any, but I didn’t really have any reason to expect more from him. Not like I did from my dad. For the longest time I was convinced that if I’d just gotten a quirk like I was supposed to, everything would’ve been different. So I tried to get one. When I was really little, I actually thought it might convince my dad to come back, but when I got older, it became more about proving him wrong. Not only was I going to have a quirk, but I was going to become the best hero ever to boot. I’m not usually very vindictive, but this was sort of a special case. It wasn’t just me I was angry for, but my mother too.

“By middle school, I’d given up on the first part of my goal, but I still wanted to become a hero. For the right reasons again, by that point. And then, just before High School, it happened. I got a quirk. That, and insanely lucky. And even if it didn’t feel like it was entirely mine at first, that didn’t change the fact that I could become a hero. Things have gone astoundingly well, and you’ll never hear me say that I’m not grateful. My time at Yuuei has already been the happiest in my life, and I haven’t even been here a full year. See? I told you this was going to sound pathetic.” Midoriya sits up, flashing Shinso a bitter smile. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and it’s enough. Of course it’s enough. It’s just that recently… well, there’s been a lot of pressure on me to succeed. Not just because of self-imposed standards, but because a lot of people I care about are relying on me too. It’s like I’m a kid all over again, jumping through insurmountable hoops to live up to an expectation that I’d die to meet.”

Midoriya’s eyes are fixated firmly on the room’s far wall now, though it’s obvious that his mind is wandering somewhere far away. Despite being somewhat unfocused, his expression hasn’t lost any of its intensity. Somehow, it almost seems sharper. “I have my quirk of course, but I’m really not contributing much to- I mean, much with it. I’ve only just begun to actually use it effectively, and even now, I can’t hold a candle to All Might in his prime.”

Shinso snorts. He knows it’s rude, but he can’t help it. “When you said you set unrealistic expectations for yourself… Midoriya, you’re a first-year heroics student. No one expects you to be on par with All Might.”

“No.” Midoriya’s eyes narrow. “The thing is, a lot of people actually do. And I agree with them. I don’t just need to be on par with All Might. I need to be better . And I’m running out of time to find a way. Or at least I was, before I stumbled on all this. I’m no All Might. I’m not even Togata. But if I can do this, then I’ll at least be on my way.”

“Togata? As in Togata Mirio? The upperclassman who lost his quirk?” Shinso puzzles over that for a minute. He’s aware that the two know each other through internships, but he isn’t quite sure why Midoriya would attempt a personal comparison. He shakes his head. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. More importantly, even if it is absolutely paramount that you increase the strength of your quirk, I don’t really think it’s built for it. Weren’t you already breaking bones a few months ago without a power boost? Just think of how uncontrollable your quirk will be once you supercharge it.”

“Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong,” Midoriya assures, expression flicking back to the present. “My quirk is different because it’s a mutation. In cases like mine, people are actually far more likely to develop an additional quirk than improve on an existing one.”

Shinso raises an eyebrow. “You mean like what happened during that joint training exercise? Was that Quirk Awakening?”

Midoriya grimaces, shaking his head. “No, that was different. My existing quirk is already prone to mutation entirely separate from Quirk Awakening. It’s an unrelated phenomenon. If this works, I should either develop something telekinesis-based or related to fire-breathing. Y’know, assuming genetics and research are anything to go off of.”

“And nothing I can say is going to convince you that you don’t need this?” Shinso asks, tapping a finger against the back of the chair.

His classmate grins. “Nope. I suppose you could tell the school counselor that I’m planning on doing something dangerous, but I don’t think you will. Because you know what it feels like to struggle to reach your goals, and I can’t imagine that you’d jeopardize mine permanently by spreading the opinion that I’m mentally unfit for heroics.”

Shinso frowns. Midoriya is right, of course. “Did you know about all this beforehand? It seems a bit too convenient that you’d choose the only person capable of preventing a newly amplified quirk from going haywire as your project partner.”

“Actually, I didn’t.” He smiles, this time, showing teeth. “That was just dumb luck. I seem to have a lot of that, don’t I? Maybe even enough to survive a near-death experience.”

Shinso leans back against the desk. He’s curious as to whether or not Midoriya’s method will work, he can’t lie about that much, and as far as motivation goes, he understands his friend’s well enough. If he was ostracized as much as he was for possessing the wrong kind of quirk, he can only imagine the kind of struggles Midoriya must’ve faced as a quirkless child, not to mention the rejection he experienced simultaneously in his home life. That kind of experience is definitely enough to impact someone’s self-esteem for life, and Shinso isn’t the least bit surprised that Midoriya still feels the need to prove himself now.

It’s a complex that Shinso himself has yet to shed entirely, and it's only become more pronounced since his relocation to Class 1-A. Surrounded by successful and combat-savvy classmates whose battlefield experience far exceeds his own, it’s difficult not to constantly compare himself to the people he’s supposed to view as teammates, and even now, he’s still just a bit jealous of Midoriya. As little as he’d like to admit it, one of the primary reasons he’s interested in his friend’s research at all is its capacity to enhance his own quirk. Already nearly a year behind every other heroics student in the country, Shinso needs whatever edge he can get.

But is he willing to die for it? He takes a moment to contemplate the question.

“I’ll go first.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and for whatever reason, that’s more of a relief than a regret. “I’ll go first, and if it works, I’ll help you after. With an awakened quirk, I’ll be more equipped to stop you from causing any damage, and I won’t run the risk of developing an unknown ability we can’t prepare for like you will. It’ll be much safer.”

Midoriya’s smile warps rapidly into a frown. “Shinso, as glad as I am that you’re warming to the idea, I can’t let you endanger yourself like that.”

“Really?” Shinso cocks his head to one side, narrowing his eyes. “So it’s okay when it’s your life on the line, but not mine? What makes you think I’m thrilled to kill you?”

“Nothing!” Midoriya holds his hands in front of him defensively, palms facing outward. “It’s just that… well, it’s my idea, so I should be the one to suffer the consequences if things fall through. I couldn’t live with myself if you ended up dying because I selfishly decided to use you as a guinea pig. Besides, your quirk is plenty ready for this as it is, you proved that much when you contained my outburst during training.”

Shinso locks eyes with Midoriya for a moment, scanning his words for sincerity. Despite the fervor still aglow at the edges of his irises, his expression seems genuine. “And if it works on you, you’ll let me go next?”

His classmate nods, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. “Of course. We’re partners, aren’t we?”

“That’s what the records say.” Shinso repositions himself in his chair, leaning forward to view the text scrawled across his friend’s notebooks. “You said you’d been looking into safe methods earlier, didn’t you? I’m assuming you have a plan?”

“Yep.” Midoriya stands, walking over to join Shinso at the desk. He places one hand on his friend’s shoulder, his grip just a tad too tight. He uses the other to boot up his laptop. “And if all goes well, we should be able to execute it by tomorrow. Assuming you’re up for it, that is.”

Shinso’s stomach drops at Midoriya’s words, but it isn’t an entirely anxious feeling. There’s excitement there too. The thrill of new discovery. The promise of risks boldly taken and rewards previously undocumented. “Alright then. Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

"That should be enough." Midoriya shakes one final, nearly empty plastic ice bag over the bathtub, watching with mild interest as its few remaining shards tumble to land on their predecessors, each emitting a crisp plink on contact. After the final stubborn chip falls, he turns to address Shinso with a brilliant smile. "You remember my instructions, don't you?"

Shinso nods, trying his best to ignore the manic beat pulsing through his ribcage. "Of course I do. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget them."

He means it too. Shinso had written them out the night before in militant little lines across his sketchbook, repeated them under his breath like a mantra as he fell asleep, and dreamed of them until they passed from words into scripture. Midoriya isn't going to permanently die today for any reason, but the least likely potential offender by far is a lapse in memory. Shinso has made sure of it.

His materials are all present. A stack of towels, two heat lamps, a considerable collection of heating pads, and a small collection of EpiPens. Midoriya had gathered all the tools himself, though he'd informed Shinso that the last item of the list had proven by far the most difficult to obtain.

Apparently, after mentally committing to his plan earlier that week, Midoriya had stolen three EpiPens from the nurse's office, though not without a good deal of underhanded plotting first. After using his access to the boy's locker room along with a bit of covert observation to pilfer Bakugo’s phone prior to a training exercise, Midoriya had asked to visit Recovery Girl to receive medication on the grounds of an especially severe migraine. On the way to his destination, Midoriya had stopped by the then empty 1-B locker rooms to plant the stolen device in Monoma's locker, avoiding Yuuei's roving cameras using his knowledge of the school's interior layout.

Afterwards, he'd resumed his course to the nurse's office, entering and receiving treatment before waiting inside under the excuse that his medication had yet to take effect. Not long after, Recovery Girl had been called out to deal with the aftermath of a fight, one that Shinso himself had witnessed occur after training that day between a considerably enraged Bakugo and a confused, yet indignant, Monoma. Midoriya had used the time her absence granted him to search the nurse's office, hands encased in readily available nitrile gloves, until he found Yuuei's generous stash of EpiPens, slid two into the interior of his jacket, and returned the room hastily to its previous condition. Then, after stuffing the gloves into his pocket, he'd left.

Midoriya had assured Shinso that Yuuei kept excess medical equipment in case of emergencies, though he hadn't really found a way to justify the hallway brawl he'd initiated. In the end, he'd settled on saying that Monoma and Bakugo both fought often enough that the altercation would have eventually been unavoidable either way, and that any harm it had done to the two's already rocky relationship was negligible at best. Shinso hadn’t challenged the assertion. Midoriya had said the EpiPens were vital, after all.

He's been told that the injection of epinephrine is not only intended to facilitate the process of revival, stimulating the lungs and heart, but to introduce additional adrenaline into his friend’s bloodstream as well. Assuming Shinso times everything right and Midoriya’s body is either lucky or capable enough to respond to CPR, there's almost no chance of there not being enough adrenaline to produce the desired result. If Quirk Awakening is real, of course.

"Good." Midoriya's hand is shaky as he dips the thermometer into the water. The lack of stability is minute, but not minute enough that Shinso doesn't catch it. His friend is nervous, possibly for the first time since conceptualizing his current endeavor.

Shinso notes, distantly, that this may be his last chance to turn back. Maybe, right now, in this moment, Midoriya is just emotionally vulnerable enough to see reason. To finally find fault in his blind obsession. To step back and reconsider. There's another line here to cross, and if he puts his foot down, this time with genuine conviction, he might be able to stop himself from moving any further.

Instead, he says, "Is it cold enough?"

To which Midoriya replies, simply, "Yes."

Shinso turns away as his friend strips down to his boxers. Modesty is hardly an important factor at this point, but the gesture is somehow oddly grounding. Shinso attempts to rebuild a sense of normalcy through the practice of the mundane, reminding himself that at the end of the day, things will return to the way they were. He'll depart from this strange reality where partial nudity feels yawn-inducingly dull and return to a world where his greatest concern isn't the fragility of one of his only friend’s lives as it rests cradled in his cupped hands. Because things will go back to normal.

Until it's his turn to go, at least.

He offers Midoriya a supportive arm as he lowers himself into the tub. The tub that belongs to Shinso’s parents. Shinso’s parents, who are out of town and have no idea that he asked his teacher for permission to visit the mall with a friend and instead returned home with copious amounts of ice he bought on his father's credit card. Shinso's parents, who would absolutely never approve of him inviting someone over while they weren't in. Shinso’s parents, who will absolutely murder him if they find out he helped a classmate kill himself in their master bathroom.

Shinso stops thinking about his parents.

"Holy shit!" Midoriya curses as one foot is lowered into the ice, a rare occurrence by all accounts. He returns Shinso’s silent accusation with an apologetic shrug, shoulders quaking. "It's really cold."

"Yeah," Shinso deadpans. "I think that's the point."

Midoriya grins at that, submerging one leg up to the calf. It's obvious that he's in pain; every muscle of his face is clenched in tight, withdrawn agony, yet he refuses to cry out, perhaps out of consideration for his partner.

"It's best to go in all at once. Like when you're entering a pool for the first time. You'll adjust to the temperature difference faster."

"I know that," Midoriya grinds out through gritted teeth. "It's just… when we practiced… there's really no way to prepare for this."

Shinso nods. "You sure you don't want me to tie you down?"

Midoriya grimaces. He's sitting in the tub now, fists clenched into tight clamps on either side of its rim. When he speaks, his sentences are curt. Clipped. Suffering emanates from each word. "Nope. Can't risk it. Need out fast. Makes it easy. I'll stay. Promise."

Never has Midoriya looked so much his age. A boy of sixteen with eyes wide and eager, yet horribly, desperately, utterly terrified. The fear is good though. Fear is what they need. Because fear indicates a will to survive, and even better than that, a rush of adrenaline. If his attitude is anything to go off of, then Midoriya's plan definitely has a chance of working.

"You're doing great." Shinso coaxes, watching as Midoriya settles his shoulders into the water. "All that's left is your head."

"Mhm." Midoriya's head disappears under the ice in a blur of movement before popping back up just as quickly. He still doesn't scream, but he does cry out. He slams his jaw down with a decidedly unhealthy snap, somehow managing to blush. Shinso almost laughs, but then Midoriya shuts his eyes, and suddenly, everything is a bit too real. Because even though his chest is still rising and falling, he doesn't look at all far from death.

Shinso watches as his friend gradually begins to drain of color, blue finding its home in the vacant spaces left by pink and red. The rhythm of Midoriya's breathing grows weaker as the life flees his body, unable to withstand the frigid temperature of the water engulfing it. Shinso taps his foot to its beat, slower and slower until finally…

It's gone.

Shinso blinks. He reaches a hand down into the ice, nerves crying out in response to its sting, before feeling for a pulse. He isn't certain how long he waits, but it feels like at least a full minute. Nothing.

Midoriya had told him not to be hasty. To wait, even if all his training told him to do the opposite. He has to be dead. Not just maybe dead, not just partially dead, but dead . After a few more seconds of torturous calm, Shinso retracts his hand. 

Midoriya is dead .

And even worse than that, Shinso realizes soon enough, Midoriya is heavy . 

It takes him three tries to remove the corpse from the tub, each accompanied by the excruciating shock of cold on his partially submerged arms. When Shinso finally hefts the muscular bulk of his friend’s body onto the tile floor, he's heaving with a combination of shock, anxiety, and exertion. It doesn't help that the cadaver flops onto the surface with all the grace of a ragdoll, limbs splaying out in a manner almost mockingly inhuman.

Shinso scrambles for a towel, knocking two of his three gathered EpiPens across the room in the process. He curses, but doesn't stop to catch them, drying off Midoriya’s skin with all the haste he can muster. The body needs to reheat. He tries to quell any mental comparisons his brain conjures in regards to frozen meat.

Heating pads on vital points, he knows this. Turning on the heat lamps can't hurt either. The important thing here, Midoriya had stressed, is Shinso’s timing. He can't inject epinephrine into frozen organs, they won't be able to take it. But if he waits too long, even a second too long, Midoriya is gone. Forever. And he's never coming back.

It's then that Shinso decides that he is most definitely an idiot. He also decides that Midoriya is an even bigger one. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

Shinso clamps the thermometer in Midoriya’s left armpit with trembling hands. He watches it with the focus of a hawk. After what could be years, it begins to finally, graciously, beautifully display the desired temperature. He begins compressions. He flinches when he hears the crunch of bones breaking, but he doesn't stop. He's saving Midoriya’s life. This is what he agreed to. Still, he wishes it didn't feel so violent.

He stops after a crest, feeling, desperately, for a pulse. Nothing. He dives for the EpiPens a few feet away before crawling, manically, back to Midoriya’s spot on the floor. He drops one of the cylinders haphazardly on a bathmat, poising the other above his friend’s thigh in a white-knuckled fist.

Shinso is panicking, and he knows it. He needs a steady hand for this, but he can’t stop his fingers from shaking, from nearly dropping the epinephrine pen he’s clutching desperately between them. He manages to press it into Midoriya’s skin. He hears a click. He removes and discards.

Still no pulse. Why did Shinso ever agree to this?

Compressions. He has to perform chest compressions. No time to worry about breaking ribs, no time to think about the fact that he’s technically leaning over his friend’s corpse, no time to do anything but count and press, up and down, over and over, silently praying for results.

Still no pulse. Midoriya isn't coming back.

He clamors once more for the second EpiPen, plunging it into Midoriya’s thigh. He holds his breath. He counts to three. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He resumes compressions. 

Still no pulse. Midoriya is gone forever, and it's Shinso's fault.

There’s only one more pen. Only one more chance to bring his incredibly stupid, stubborn, hypocritical mess of a classmate back from the dead. He stabs his last remaining hope directly into Midoriya’s chest. There’s a beat of absolute and complete silence. 

And then, the most beautiful sound Shinso has heard in his entire life. A gasp. He nearly cries with relief.

“ You ,” he manages to strangle out between too-quick breaths. “Are fucking insane.”

“And right.” Despite the intense shivering, Midoriya’s smile is something to behold. It’s brilliant. Like he’s seen God, held him at his mercy, made him beg, and despite it all, killed him. “Shinso. It Worked .”

Shinso falls back onto the floor, allowing adrenaline-fueled exhaustion to settle over his body. He feels as if he's just run a marathon. "No. No, it didn't. Midoriya, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but nothing is floating, and I definitely don't see any fire."

"But it did work," Midoriya protests. "I don't know how to explain it, but everything feels… different. On an instinctual, intrinsic level. There's something in my body, or maybe in my mind, that just wasn't there before. I don’t typically feel my normal quirk, not unless I'm using it, but this one… it's impossible to ignore it. It's like it's alive. Humming under my skin. It's so loud, I'm surprised you can't hear it too."

Shinso barks out a bitter laugh. "You just died, Midoriya. That's adrenaline you're feeling, and maybe a few broken ribs. I mean it's fine that it didn't work, trust me, the important thing here is that you're alive. Oh my fucking God, am I glad you're alive. I mean, I did that. I brought you back." Shinso laughs again, this time out of hysteria. Reality sets in like a wet blanket. He really just killed and revived his friend. For no reason. It's horrible, of course, but it's also more than a little impressive.

Without rising, Shinso snatches up the suicide note Midoriya had reluctantly written to be presented in the event of their project's failure. He crumples it into a ball before tossing it blindly in the direction of the bathroom's sole trash can. The action is unbelievably cathartic.

"No. No, I know broken bones, and I know adrenaline, and this isn't either." Midoriya's voice is awed. Reverent. "If you could feel it too, then I just know you'd understand. This is… well, it's like I've been injected with a shot of raw, unfiltered power, if that makes sense. It's incredible. I don’t think I've ever felt more alive."

Shinso sits up. Midoriya’s eyes are wide as saucers, and he's staring down at the back of his hand as if it's the first time he's seen it. "Fine, if you're so sure you've got a new quirk, then why not show me? Do you wanna try to breathe some fire? Maybe lift a towel or two?"

Midoriya nods, eyes unmoving. "Okay, I'll try for fire first. Here goes." Midoriya opens his mouth, angling his face towards the icy tub of water. Nothing happens. Shinso raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Alright. Telekinesis then." Midoriya lifts a hand, eyes narrowing as he directs it towards a discarded EpiPen. He raises his extended limb, waving it first up and down, then left and right. Still nothing.

Midoriya shakes his head in frustration, leaning back against the bathtub. "I do have a new quirk. I have to. I mean, I don't feel hurt or tired at all. That's a side effect of Quirk Awakening. Normally, I'd be hunched over in debilitating pain after something like this. Any person would."

"Speaking of pain." Shinso stands, grabbing the bottle of NSAIDs he purchased from its place on the counter. He holds the vessel to Midoriya’s chest cap-first. "Take some of these. After the shock wears off, you're going to feel like absolute shit. These might dull the pain, at least a bit."

Midoriya begrudgingly dry-swallows a pair of pills, expression still overwhelmingly perplexed. His skin is regaining its color now, far faster than Shinso would've expected. "I'm guessing you want me to visit Recovery Girl."

"No, I want you to visit the hospital. There's no way you're walking to school like this. Remember our cover story?"

"Yeah. After we hit the mall, we decided to go ice fishing. I fell in the water." Midoriya's affect is flat. Monotone. His gaze is fixated, once more, on the back of his hand. "You pulled me out, but only after I was caught under the ice for longer than I should've been. You revived me, and…"

Midoriya stops mid-sentence. He's turned his hand over, palm up, and for whatever reason, his mouth has blossomed open into a shocked circle. "This wasn't there before."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Midoriya holds both hands out in front of him, displaying his palms. "These… dots? Holes? They weren't there this morning."

Shinso kneels down, grabbing one of his friend's wrists. Upon inspection, the center of Midoriya's palm appears to be marked with a hollow black circle. Something warm stirs in Shinso’s chest. Excitement? Hope? He isn’t quite sure. "Do they hurt?"

Midoriya flexes his fingers, eyes squinting in consideration. "No, but I can tell they're there without looking. It isn’t an unnatural feeling, just a new one."

"Okay, that's definitely weird. Any idea why they're there? Maybe you can think of some family members who have holes in their hands?"

"Hm… my dad might've. I can't really recall his appearance all that well to be honest. I was pretty young when he left."

Shinso shakes his head, releasing his classmate’s wrist. "I was thinking more like extended family. Your dad has a fire-breathing quirk, and we've already eliminated that possibility."

"Extended family doesn't factor in, it would have to be a more immediate connection. Probably. I mean this is all based on prior accounts, obviously, but none of my research subjects have ever inherited a quirk from extended family before." Midoriya pokes one of the indentations with a finger. "Not that it matters. No one on my mother's side of the family has a quirk that involves something like this, and I've never met anyone on my father's side."

"Oh." He frowns. "Do you think you can stand and put on your clothes? We need to head out to the lake so I can call an ambulance. If you can't walk, I'll carry you."

By way of response, Midoriya rises off the bathroom floor. The action displays far more ease than it should. "I don't think I need it, but if you insist."

"I do." Shinso offers Midoriya an arm. "Come on. We'll figure out your new quirk once I'm convinced you aren't about to drop dead again."

Midoriya walks past without giving Shinso so much as a second glance, bundling up his discarded clothes before dunking them into the ice water. He doesn’t even flinch as he shrugs his soaked shirt over his head, a smirk dawning on his face. The gleam in his eyes is triumphant, and it takes a moment for Shinso to register why. He just admitted that Midoriya has a new quirk.

"I hope that's a promise, because I'm planning on holding you to it."

Chapter Text

"Okay, almost there." Shinso's eyes point straight forward as he walks, fixed on the oncoming horizon with all the intensity of a rifle scope. He wants to make sure that his recently revived friend is safe, that much Midoriya understands, but he wishes he would slow down, just a tad.

Midoriya feels odd, but not in the ways he should. Aside from experiencing a constant influx of energy undercut with a current of elation, Midoriya can sense something in the air around him. The sensations aren't tactile, not in the usual sense. He can't see, smell, hear, taste, or touch any of the input his brain receives, yet it clings, like television static to the edges of his consciousness.

If he focuses, the static refines into points, millions of separate dots, each possessing its own unique coordinates. And he knows these coordinates, although he doesn't know quite what they indicate. The points are all different in presentation as well, and though he isn't sure how he can tell, some are far stronger than others. 

Every time he tries to hone in on one for any extended period of time, Shinso urges him onward, or asks how he's feeling, or worries over his ribs, and ruins the entire process. It's hard for Midoriya to concentrate, as distracted as he is, and apparently, whatever ability his new quirk is granting him requires some level of mental focus.

For whatever reason, he desperately wants to go to the points, to interact with them in some way, although he really has no idea how or why. And he could. It wouldn’t be difficult, if Shinso would just agree. Some of them are close by, as close as the subway entrance, even. His quirk, whatever it is, responds to the thought of it, its hum growing slightly louder. 

He wants to tell this to Shinso, to ask him permission to leave, but he doubts his classmate will be receptive. He's been very stubborn about health before progress, after all, and Midoriya would really rather not upset him any more than he already has, especially considering how much he's helped. He knows it can't be easy for him, executing the death of a friend, but if things continue to go as planned, then he should benefit from the project just as much as Midoriya has, if not more. That's how he's been personally justifying it, anyways.

It doesn't necessarily stop him from feeling guilty though. Guilty for manipulating Shinso, for going behind All Might and Bakugo’s backs, for putting his life in danger without telling anyone he cared about goodbye first… but when he thought about what he was doing, and more importantly, why he was doing it, he'd been able to ignore all that, at least as long as he had his research to distract himself with. 

What he was doing wasn't just going to fulfill his lifelong dream, prove a crackpot conspiracy theory true, and revolutionize his current understanding of quirk theory. It was also going to help save countless people as well. 

All For One is planning something, he knows that much for certain, and wherever Shigaraki has disappeared to, there's no doubt that he's still preparing for a confrontation. Although All Might hasn't said so directly, Midoriya can tell that he's anticipating a storm to tear apart Japan's current calm, and he wants to be ready when it hits. 

He's making progress with Black Whip, but it's slow progress, and although his mastery of One For All has increased, it certainly isn't anything to write home about. If he has to face The League of Villains anytime soon, or God forbid All For One, he certainly won't have the strength necessary to fight back, at least not on his own. He needs to surpass All Might if he really wants to stand fighting chance, and he's certain that his new quirk, a quirk that's really, truly his own, should be able to give him the leg up he needs. Saving his friends and family is far more important than his own health, it always has been. Putting his life on the line had been easy, at least as far as personal concern went.

He'd given One For All to Togata for safekeeping of course, though the upperclassman had no idea himself. It had been a little morally objectionable to slip a strand of hair in his food, but really, it was all for the best. He'd written personal notes for every individual the situation would've affected had he died, though he hadn't had the courage to give them to Shinso, instead handing him one, General, all-encompassing letter and leaving the rest in his notebook. Doing so would feel like admitting that death was a possibility, and he certainly hadn’t wanted to do that, not until the crucial moment just before he dropped. He couldn't risk cold feet.

But everything had turned out fine, just as he'd expected. It's hard not to feel just a bit immortal, having conquered death as he has. Like he doesn’t have to fear anything or anyone. Maybe it's his quirk. He isn't sure. He's never been especially good at self-preservation.

"There it is." Shinso halts in his tracks, releasing a relieved sigh. Midoriya stops beside him, breath forming small, soft-edged clouds of vapor in the air. It's odd, he thinks briefly, that even in his still soaking clothing, he doesn't feel cold in the slightest. "Do you think we're close enough to call? I bet we could make it over before the ambulance arrives. The hospital is pretty far from here."

Midoriya shrugs noncommittally. "Aren't you tired of carrying that fishing gear? I told you I could help you if you needed it."

Shinso shakes his head. "You're not in any position to be lifting things right now. You just died. How do you feel?"

He frowns. Aside from his quirk buzzing beneath his skin, inexplicably vital and compulsive, Midoriya doesn't sense any physical abnormalities. "I feel great. Better than normal, actually. Do I look bad?"

"No," Shinso mutters, almost begrudgingly. "You look completely fine. That's what's weirding me out about this whole thing. I know you said it's either fire-breathing, telekinesis, or nothing, but is there any chance you got a healing quirk somehow?"

"You said you weren't going to speculate any further until I'd received treatment. Actually, if I recall correctly, I think a rule regarding 'no quirk talk' was proposed somewhere between the front door and the sidewalk." Midoriya raises an eyebrow. "Did you change your mind?"

Shinso shifts from foot to foot, obviously somewhat indecisive. Midoriya knows that he wants to discuss potential quirk developments deep down. He just needs the right push. "I have felt a bit different since leaving the house."

That catches Shinso's attention. Midoriya has given him a proper out: the invitation to a question regarding both his health, and the outcome of their project. It's a segue to further explore the quirk developments Midoriya’s death has resulted in with the added benefit of plausible deniability.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Even as he takes the bait, Shinso frowns. 

Midoriya returns the scowl with a bright grin. "I've been sensing these weird points of energy on the peripherals of my consciousness. They all have unique signatures, and if I focus on one for long enough, I suddenly know its location. There's more there too, I can tell, but I haven't been able to concentrate long enough to find out what yet."

"That's… odd. Also completely unrelated to anything we're supposed to be expecting here. Where are these… uh, energy signatures located?"

"There aren't any close to us right now, but outside of a… let's estimate and say one kilometer radius around your yard, there are tons. Far too many to count. They mostly exist in clusters, but some of them are isolated."

Shinso thinks for a moment, using one hand to tousle his hair. "Okay, so if there's none around here, then you can't be sensing people. Maybe you're picking up on considerable sources of heat? You might have to draw from an already existing source to generate fire. I've heard of quirks like it. It would explain the holes in your hands too, they might be conduits."

Midoriya nods slowly. That would make some sense, assuming that no one in the general area is currently using a cooking appliance. But something in him tells him that that assumption isn’t right, and for whatever reason, he believes it. "I want to go to one of the points and investigate."

"You want to do what ?" Shinso’s eyes go wide with a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. "Midoriya, you told me you would seek out medical help if I asked you to. Before I agreed to this plan, you promised. Do you remember that?"

Midoriya tries not to roll his eyes. "You said I looked fine. Besides, I know what injuries feel like, trust me, and I'm not injured. If we go to the hospital, the most they can do is tell me not to put pressure on my chest for the next few weeks. Ribs heal on their own. Figuring out my quirk is what's most important right now."

"You know what?" Shinso crosses his arms, their contents clacking together with the movement. His eyes narrow, mouth forming into a stubborn line. "No. I'm not going to keep enabling you like this. We're going to the hospital, and that's final."

Midoriya isn't sure why, but he can't help but grow a bit irate at that assertion. Shinso is standing between him and whatever is radiating out from the nearest point in the distance, and for whatever reason, that transgression reads as overtly aggressive. "Make me."

Now Shinso appears downright shocked, but that doesn't stop him from dropping the fishing gear gathered in his arms and taking a strong, decisive step forward. "Walk to the lake."

Midoriya raises an eyebrow, pointedly ignoring the order. Shinso’s eyes take on a panicked, frenzied quality. "Walk to the lake , " he repeats, this time with greater conviction.

Midoriya puts two and two together. "You're trying to use your quirk on me. And it isn’t working." He looks down at his hands, at the dots in their centers.

"Walk. To. The. Lake," Shinso enunciates, grinding his words out through gritted teeth. "Walk to the lake, walk to the lake, walk to the lake! Sit down, put your hands above your head, spin in a circle, just do something !"

As his friend's voice rises, Midoriya's breathing slows. Because when he checks the pinpricks of energy once more, he realizes that the majority of the ones he recognizes have moved. Like living beings. Or like something tied to them.

"Shinso," Midoriya asks. "You are trying to use your quirk, right?"

"Yes, obviously!" Shinso gestures wildly. "But- well- it isn’t here! I'm trying to draw from it, but it isn’t here, it just isn't working!" He sounds afraid. Horribly, utterly afraid. It's obvious that this has never happened before, at least not outside of his training with Aizawa.

Midoriya has a hypothesis. But he really doesn't want to test it. It hurts, knowing that he has to. He reaches inward, and as he expected, he feels the same sort of energy he sensed outside his body stirring within, floating like untethered stars. If he hones in on one, he finds he suddenly knows it, inside and out. Strengths, weaknesses, applications… all there for him to draw from, to use, to exploit. He picks the one he needs.

"Sit down."

Shinso’s eyes glaze over before his body folds, mechanically, towards the ground. He sits. Midoriya's breath catches in his throat. "No." He releases his grip on Shinso and the quirk, dropping both with all the caution one might grant a glob of radioactive waste. "No, that shouldn't have happened."

Shinso looks up at him, his expression displaying nothing save pure awe. "Holy fucking shit. You have my quirk."

Midoriya swallows. "I'll give it back. Right now, if you want. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have used it like that, I just… had to test a hunch."

"Okay then, give it back." Shinso's face has gone startlingly pale, but there's excitement in his expression too. Midoriya is certain that he himself appears equally drained of color, but it's difficult to conjure too much excitement, knowing what he does. "You do know how, right?"

Midoriya nods. Somehow, miraculously, he does know, without experimentation, or practice, or any form of testing. It's the same with all the quirks, he realizes. When he gives them enough attention, they tell him how to use them, or perhaps slightly more accurately, he simply knows.

He knows that he can return Brainwash. He also knows that the action won't require physical contact. Worst of all, he knows that his quirk, the primary one, doesn't want to give it back. And to some degree, neither does Midoriya.

He pushes through the mental block, transferring the Quirk before he's allowed the opportunity to further explore any second thoughts. The exchange is smooth, painless, but Midoriya doesn’t like the feeling of it. Like he's lost something vital. He can’t help but want to reverse it, just a little.

"Is it back?" Shinso asks following a moment of tense silence.

Midoriya nods, begrudgingly. "Yes."

"Shake your head." Midoriya feels the familiar fog of Brainwash settle over him. He complies, and the oppressive mist lifts. "Thank God." Shinso sighs in evident relief, a genuine grin settling on his face for the first time since his friend died.

"I need to check something. Can we go back to your house?" Midoriya whispers. His voice is drained. Breathy.

Shinso ignores the question. "Midoriya, this is insane! Your new quirk, it's… well, it's unbelievable! Are you sure you aren't related to Monoma?"

"Shinso," Midoriya says, this time slightly louder. "We need to go somewhere with better cell service."

"You told me it would be telekinesis or fire-breathing. You definitely never mentioned anything like this. Wait- you said there weren't any quirks for a few meters out, right? I have to assume that’s what you were sensing earlier, at least. Did you take my neighbors' quirks too?"

Midoriya’s stomach lurches. "Yeah, I think so. When I woke up, my quirk was supposed to activate. I guess it did." He looks down, listlessly, at the holes in his hands. "We really need to go back to your house."

"Right, we need to clean up before my parents get back. Might as well do it now." Shinso nods. "And you should probably give my neighbors’ quirks back too. Could you do that without them knowing? What's your range? Do you keep quirks indefinitely if you don't make the conscious choice to return them?"

"Yes. Far. I think so." Midoriya's throat is dry. He wants to ask if Shinso has given up his hopes of a hospital visit, but he'd rather not remind him of his earlier fixation if he's forgotten. "C’mon. We should move fast."

Shinso picks up the fishing gear and follows when Midoriya begins to walk, but both can tell that some sort of unspoken tension hangs in the air. 

"I expected you to be more excited," Shinso comments. "You got exactly what you wanted. More, if I’m being honest. There’s a lot of uses for a quirk like yours. Even if your father lied to you about his quirk, or you mutated something unexpected, I don't think that's necessarily a downside."

Midoriya quickens his pace, forcing Shinso to match it. He can't say what he's thinking, not without revealing some secrets he’d rather keep hidden, and besides, he hasn't necessarily confirmed anything yet. "I just have a bad feeling about this. I don’t think I need to say anything more than that," He answers vaguely, and the rest of the walk is taken in strained silence.

As soon as the two pass the house's threshold, Midoriya rushes to lock himself in the downstairs restroom, taking a seat on the sink's edge. He's been clutching his phone in one hand to avoid water damage, and now, he uses it to dial his mother's number.

"Hello, Izuku, It's great to hear from you! How has school been going?" Inko Midoriya’s voice washes over her son like a bucket of ice water. Now that the high of experimentation has worn off, it's incredibly sobering, realizing for the second time that day, that he nearly died, of his own volition, without saying anything to his mother in advance.

"Fine," he lies. "Can you send me one of the old pictures of Dad you have saved?"

There's a beat of silence. Midoriya knows the question must've hit his mother like a punch to the gut, and he feels terrible for asking it, but he needs confirmation nonetheless. Instead of a productive response, she simply replies with "why?"

"I'm using an ancestry website for a school project. I need to confirm that I've found the right bloodline." The lie isn't entirely implausible.

There's another pause, this one longer than the last. "Okay. I sent it. Call back if you need anything else." Then, in a very uncharacteristic turn of action, his mother hangs up.

Midoriya opens the message from his mother, giving the photo she's chosen a cursory once-over. The picture only features his father, not himself or his mother, which he thinks is probably for the best, all things considered. He saves the image before switching to All Might's number.

----

Me: Hey, sorry to bother you on a weekend, but would you mind answering a question for me really quick?

All Might: Not at all, ask away.

Me: [tap to view]

Me: Do you recognize this person, by any chance?

----

Midoriya has to wait a moment for a response. He swings his legs back and forth over the sink's ledge, trying to ease his growing dread. His phone dings.

----

All Might: How did you get that picture?

Me: I found it in an article. Why?

----

He lies almost compulsively, instinct taking the reins from reason. The tone of the text could be casual, but Midoriya is almost certain it's much closer to shocked disbelief. And if his hunch is correct as All Might's reaction would suggest, then he isn't quite sure he wants his mentor to know the image's true origins. Not for the time being, at the very least.

----

All Might: That's a photo of All For One-

----

The message says more, but Midoriya doesn’t finish reading it before his grip on his phone goes completely limp. The device tumbles to the floor with a clack. He doesn't check after its condition, he can't muster the concern. For the time being, it's enough that he manages to pick up the device with trembling fingers and tuck it under one arm.

He opens the door and forces his way out, taking the stairs two at a time. Shinso is still cleaning up the master bathroom when he arrives, shoving EpiPens and shredded plastic into a garbage bag. He looks up as Midoriya enters. "Finally, I was starting to think you were going to make me finish this all- hey, are you okay?"

Midoriya nods. The action feels as though it's being performed underwater, a surreal sort of resistance combating every motion. "I'm okay," he says, though his voice doesn't sound particularly convincing. "I'm fine."

Shinso's quirk calls out to him, and suddenly, the concern that had weighed so heavily on his mind just moments before dissipates like smoke. He can feel Brainwash across the room, bright, and intense, and unguarded. He can take it if he wants to. It would be so easy. It had been his until Shinso had guilted him into giving it back, and it could be his again. He reaches out-

"You don't look fine." Shinso walks over to examine him. "Midoriya, I swear to all things holy, if it turns out you needed to go to the hospital and you talked me out of it… well, I don’t know what I'm going to do, but it definitely won't be pretty."

"No!" Midoriya steps back as if he's been slapped. He can't go to the hospital. He can't go anywhere near large groups of people. He can hardly stand the allure of Shinso's quirk as it is, now that he knows that that's what's drawing him, and if he goes somewhere more crowded, he isn't sure that he'll be able to stop himself from taking what isn't his, not just from Shinso, but from everyone. "No hospitals! I'm fine! Seriously! See?"

To illustrate his point, Midoriya begins helping with the cleaning effort, folding up towels and tossing them into the room's laundry bin. Shinso grabs his arm mid-throw, and the touch feels electric. Brainwash sits dormant beneath his friend's skin, incredibly present and even more loud. Midoriya snatches his limb away, biting back a curse.

"Put those down, I don't want you overexerting yourself. If you refuse to go to a hospital, then at the very least we're going back to the dorms so Recovery Girl can check up on you. Go up to my room and find some dry clothes to wear, I can finish up here on my own."

Midoriya's heart leaps. If he doesn't think he can stand a hospital filled with civilian quirks, then he definitely isn't going to respond well to a school full of trained heroes. "I-"

"Midoriya." Shinso's voice is stern. "We're getting you help, and that's final."

He nods listlessly before turning to exit the room. Reality sets in like a weight. His father is All For One. He just activated his genetic disposition for his father's quirk. He has All For One. And it has a mind of its own.

If his theories are all correct, then this is his reality now. He's going to have to return to Yuuei at some point, and when he does, his new quirk isn't going to magically disappear. It'll be there for the rest of his life, silently nudging, whispering, burrowing… but he can fight it. He knows he can. He isn't going to take anyone's quirk, not without their consent, at least, and even then, it'll only be a temporary transfer. Intrusive thoughts are just thoughts, after all. He doesn't have to act on them.

He wonders, with an involuntary thrill, if All For One has been enhanced to the point where he won't need to utilize wordplay to get his quirk back from Togata. He shoves the reaction down, but even so, just thinking about One For All is enough to quicken his pulse. He tries not to smile, as he imagines taking it back. He wants to hit his head against a wall. 

He'll adjust to the quirk in time, he reminds himself. Resistance can only get easier. And maybe, once he stops using it, it will calm down, at least a bit. Because he can't use it. Ever. If All Might knew he had it, or even worse, All For One, the consequences would be undoubtedly devastating. It has to remain a secret. Only Shinso can know.

It hurts immeasurably realizing that he's died and come back only to earn himself an intrusive second consciousness, especially when he could've just as easily inherited an enhanced version of his mother's quirk. His fate has been decided by the flip of a genetic coin toss, and he's lost out in the worst possible way. But he's made his bed, and now he has to lie in it.

Will One For All enhance All For One further? The question hasn't formed into a full thought before a part of himself protests. No, it doesn't matter. Taking back One For All is the best possible course of action. He can't suddenly lose his quirk, and he definitely can't disappoint All Might. And besides, he needs One For All, more than anyone else. And he deserves it. It isn’t Togata's, it's his .

He's already dressed, dried, and waiting with Shinso at the train station by the time a realization dawns on him. He never gave any of the neighbors their quirks back. Oh well. He'll certainly go back and fix that later. He's sure of it. But in the meantime, testing them out a bit definitely can't hurt.

Chapter Text

Two class periods have come and gone, and Midoriya's seat is still undeniably empty. Yesterday, Shinso hadn’t questioned his absence. Midoriya had just gone through something undoubtedly draining, after all, and if he needed a full day to recover, there was no way his friend could possibly argue. He had been happy, actually, that his classmate had finally decided to treat his health as a serious issue. It didn’t matter that Recovery Girl hadn't been able to detect anything wrong with his body, not even a single broken bone.

It was only then that Shinso had recalled one of his more distant neighbor's quirks, the ability to reshape the compact and cancerous tissue in the human to augment bones. The topic of careers had come up once when she'd come over to return a few borrowed gardening tools; she'd been a physical therapist, one who specifically worked with injuries related to recreational sports, and she'd received a license to use her quirk to help still-healing patients. Perhaps it had a passive aspect, mending its owner's own skeletal injuries automatically as they formed.

The quirk fit almost a little too nicely into Midoriya’s fighting style; Shinso could only imagine how useful instant bone melding could prove to someone with such a self-destructive pre-existing quirk. But Midoriya had given the quirks back while Shinso was upstairs cleaning, they'd discussed as much on the train ride back to Yuuei, and now, he wouldn't be getting any more use out of them. Both of them had agreed that it was a tad disappointing that Midoriya couldn't immediately use his new quirk, but had ultimately decided that any alternatives were far too unethical. Shinso had felt uncomfortable enough losing his quirk for the few seconds he'd known it was gone, he can’t imagine how horrible it would be to be robbed of it forever. He would never wish to inflict something like that on anyone, and neither, he'd been assured, would Midoriya. 

He'd also promised that he wouldn't speak to anyone else regarding his friend's new quirk. Aside from the questionable means through which it was obtained, the quirk was also one that could easily garner the wrong kind of attention, the exact same brand of which Shinso had been exposed to in his early years. Many would agree that anyone having the power to permanently steal another person's quirk was potentially disquieting at best, and horrifying at worst, and the resulting ostracization is definitely something both parties want to prevent, if at all possible. If Midoriya uses his quirk, he'll have to do so discreetly, at least for the time being. And consensually, of course. Even temporary quirk transfers should require permission.

Even taking all this into account, Shinso still has to wonder why Midoriya has yet to return to his regular schedule. He'd asked over text, the day before, when Midoriya would be ready to complete the second part of their project. He'd let it slide when he hadn't received a response immediately, but at this point, with no future communication in sight, he's beginning to grow worried. What if Midoriya really is more affected than he's let on? Is his new quirk hurting or restricting him somehow? And slightly less importantly, is he going to uphold his end of their bargain?

As the hours tick by, periods passing one after another without so much as a passing sighting of verdant green, Shinso’s worries grow. They've escalated enough by lunch to spur him into action. He isn't supposed to head back to the dorms during passing periods, but he doesn't particularly care. He didn't check up on Midoriya yesterday for fear of infringing on his recovery, but now, after a full day of radio silence, he can’t imagine leaving his concern unchecked for another few hours of class time.

His first few knocks on Midoriya's door elicit no response. "It's me again, I'm here to check on you. Can you open the door?"

Shinso hears the sound of footsteps through the structure's thin paneling, but the door doesn't budge an inch. "Go away!" Midoriya's voice, aside from being unusually muted, sounds inexplicably frightened. "I can't see you right now."

The way Midoriya speaks the word can't implies less of a prior conflict or preferential prerogative and more of a dire, physical barrier. "Why not? Is something wrong? Is your quirk malfunctioning? I'm not leaving until I know you're okay."

The door jolts open, revealing sunken eyes and an uncharacteristically dire scowl. "Don't talk about it so casually, someone might be nearby," Midoriya whispers. "If you aren't going to leave without some closure, then you might as well come inside. There's no way we're discussing this out here."

Shinso steps towards the door, and Midoriya shoots away from him like a repelled magnet. Sensing the need for privacy, Shinso locks the door behind him, an action that elicits a strained sigh of relief from his classmate. He mutters something under his breath.

"What was that?" Shinso asks, scanning the dorm room. For whatever reason, the floor is dotted with large quantities of shredded paper.

"What was what?" Midoriya moves to take a seat on his bed, eyes pointedly trained away from Shinso. His hands are restless in his lap, fingers tensing and uncoiling without any evident rhythm or reason.

"You said something."

"Oh." Midoriya intakes a sharp breath. "I was just thinking out loud." He offers no additional explanation, and when Shinso tries to examine his face, he cranes his neck away.

"Okay, sure…" Shinso walks over to sit beside his friend, but Midoriya responds to the attempt by fleeing to the opposite side of the room. "Midoriya, what's going on? You've missed half the school day, and even without that, you seem…" He tries to word his concern as inoffensively as he can. "A bit off."

"I'm fine. Just adjusting to the new quirk." Midoriya shoots the wall beside Shinso's head an extremely lopsided smile. "You don't need to worry about me. Seriously."

Shinso decides that he needs to be a bit more blunt. "Why won't you look at me directly?"

Midoriya runs a hand through his hair. "You're… you're a bit loud."

"Loud?"

"No, that isn't the right word," Midoriya mutters. "Not loud, you're very… present. Difficult to ignore."

Shinso nods placatingly, pretending that the combined words' meaning actually translates into something coherent. He needs to press for more information if he wants to find out what's wrong. "Am I the only person you've had this problem with?"

"No." Midoriya shakes his head. "When everyone else is here, in the dorm building, it's deafening. I couldn’t sleep last night, or the night before. They were all calling out to me, layering over each other, and I just wanted to… I wanted to make them shut up. Explosion came by and knocked on my door last night. So did Zero Gravity. I almost caved, but… I didn't. I didn't use it." His grin is bitter, but there's pride in it too.

Shinso doesn’t fail to note that Midoriya refers to their classmates not by their names, but their quirks. "Is your new quirk doing this?" He asks. "Does it compel you to use it somehow?"

Midoriya bites the inside of his mouth. "Yeah. Yeah, it does. I didn’t say anything earlier because I thought I had it under control." He shakes his head vigorously. "No, no . I can't think like that. I do have it under control. It's fine. Just… loud. But I'm ignoring it, see? You still have your quirk. That's good. I'm adjusting. It's fine. I'm fine." Midoriya's breathing is stilted.

Shinso tries to keep his expression even. "Sure. And what's with all the trash on the floor?" Shinso pokes a pile of shredded paper with the tip of his shoe, and Midoriya’s face drains completely of color.

"Nothing," he says, far too quickly. He sounds unequivocally guilty.

Shinso only has to contemplate his friend's expression for a few moments before he realizes why. "Midoriya, are you testing out quirks?"

"It's that obvious, huh?" Midoriya winces. "Yeah, I might've kept, um, a few of the quirks I took when I woke up. Or all of them."

Shinso can't help but glare.

"But I'm giving them back! Later! Or, most of them, at least."

" Most of them? "

Midoriya crosses his arms, shrinking against the wall. It's obvious from his expression that he's more than a little at war with himself. "There are some good quirks here. Really good quirks. And their owners were absolutely squandering them before. I don’t even just mean that in the sense that they were being used for mundane tasks. Most of them haven't been used to their full potential at all."

Midoriya scoops up a handful of paper off the floor. His eyes are gleaming with the same manic edge they so often held before their project had come to fruition. Or gone awry, depending on your perspective, Shinso supposes. "Puree. An emitter-type quirk that allows its user to grind certain substances into a fine paste. Its previous owner believed that their quirk could only be used on fruit and vegetables, but in truth, the ability works on all organic plant-based matter. It just requires the right amount of focus and personal redefinition. The quirk's ability to shred a substance is weakened the further it's been transformed from its source, hence the still visible strips of paper, but even so, imagine how a hero could use this quirk in a rescue situation. Fallen trees and wooden constructs would be entirely eliminated as obstacles."

Shinso shakes his head. "Midoriya, just because you figured out something about a quirk that its original user couldn't, doesn't give you the right to take it."

"It was more than that." Midoriya rolls his eyes. "He was wasting it. He used to joke that he was a glorified blender. Imagine being born with such an amazing quirk and treating it like it's absolutely nothing! Besides, he doesn't even have a license to use it. I do." He sounds as though he's trying to convince himself just as much as he is Shinso. "I know you wouldn't want your quirk to be taken, but I'd never do that to you. You're going to be a hero. You're really using it for something."

Shinso shivers, involuntarily. He wasn't going to be a hero, not until he received Aizawa's help. Would Midoriya have taken his quirk permanently then?

"No, you can't justify this like that. You don't get to decide who deserves to keep their quirks and who doesn't. You know this is wrong."

Midoriya’s sigh is incredibly drawn. "You don't get it. Ever since I took back- got back from your house, it's just been a constant stream of… this ." He gestures generally at Shinso. "I know it's wrong to keep the quirks I have, but when I'm testing them out, thinking about how I'll use them… that's the only time it shuts up, and I finally start to feel like me again. So maybe I can't keep them, but I at least have to pretend. Otherwise, there's nothing distracting me from listening."

Shinso blinks. "I'm not qualified to help you with this. We need to find a quirk counselor, or maybe a psychologist-"

"No! We agreed we wouldn't tell anyone, remember? We are absolutely not involving anyone else in this." Midoriya’s eyes burn with an intense fire. It's obvious that he means what he says. "If you don't want to help, then don't, but we aren’t taking this issue out of this room."

Something occurs to Shinso. "If my quirk were enhanced, how do you think it would develop?"

Midoriya immediately takes to contemplating the question. "I can see things going a few different ways. Your quirk could lose its restrictions, dropping the requirement that a target hear your voice or respond before being sent into a brainwashed state. It could also potentially enhance the restrictions of the brainwashed state itself, allowing you to command targets to complete tasks that typically require a higher level of consciousness, like writing, reading, or speaking. It could also impact the length of the effects; for instance, if you gave a more complex command, perhaps a target could appear unaffected while being subconsciously guided by an underlying order over the course of hours, days, or weeks. It could also be a combination of any of these possibilities."

Midoriya stops, shaking his head as if to clear it. "But you can't. You definitely can't. Trust me, you don't want to. What I'm experiencing isn’t fun, it's terrifying, and I'd never help inflict it on you, or anyone else for that matter."

"But I could help you," Shinso protests. "If I really do get the ability to give underlying commands, or allow targets to maintain consciousness while under Brainwash, I could order you not to take people's quirks. Or, if it ends up more advanced than that, maybe I could help you not want to in the first place."

Midoriya grimaces. "You're making up excuses because you want to enhance your quirk. Trust me when I say I know how it feels, I was just there. But if you do it, you'll regret it, trust me."

"I'm not making up excuses," Shinso scoffs. "I want to help you. And besides, we have no idea if this is how all cases of Quirk Awakening impact humans. Your quirk might be an anomaly for all we know, in fact, I'd even go as far as to say it's more likely than the alternative. No one has a quirk quite like the one you have now. I'll be fine."

Midoriya goes silent for a long moment, slumping back against the wall before sinking to the floor. "I think this is a part of Quirk Awakening," he whispers, looking Shinso dead in the eyes for the first time that day. "I think that maybe, this is why they kill us."

Shinso can't help the chill that runs down his spine, as he turns to leave, slamming Midoriya’s door behind him. His friend is obviously in no place to be making big decisions, as tormented and sleep-deprived as he is. Shinso is going to help him, whether he wants it or not. All he needs to do is find a new partner.

Chapter Text

"Hey, you finally ready to tell me what's going on?" Kaminari rolls his shoulders, stifling a yawn with one languid hand. "You said that this was an emergency, but I don’t see anything weird out here. Certainly not anything worth waking up at one in the morning for, at least."

Shinso leans back against a light post, squinting in the glare it casts. "You've noticed that Midoriya’s been acting off, haven't you?"

Kaminari’s eyes go wide, his posture snapping from lazy to rigid. "Wait, this is about Midoriya? Yeah, of course I've noticed, everyone has. Dude hasn't even been showing up to class. Do you know what's going on?"

Shinso nods. He knows he's breaking his promise with Midoriya here, but Midoriya broke a promise with him too. If the experiment succeeded, he was supposed to go next. That was the deal. And he still plans to. He has to, now that Midoriya has started to slip. Someone needs to pull him up, before he falls and loses the ability to stand entirely. So he talks. He talks about their hypothesis. Their research. Their experiment, ice bath, and epinephrine, and all. He watches as his friend's expression phases from disbelief, to curiosity, to horror, and then back again. He even explains Midoriya’s new quirk, his struggle to contain its inclinations. And then, he waits for a response.

"You're fucking with me." Kaminari shakes his head, mouth pressed taut into a thin line. "You didn't actually help Midoriya kill himself, did you? That's ridiculous. You'd never."

Shinso shrugs. "Actually, turns out that against my better judgment, I would. And I did."

"I just saw him yesterday," Kaminari protests. "Really briefly, sure, but I saw him. He was getting something from the pantry. He looked tired, but not… y’know, recently undead."

"That's because it worked." Shinso swats at a moth as it flies towards his face, drawn in by the glow of the streetlight. "Did he give you a weird look? Like you were a petri dish instead of a person?"

"Well… now that you mention it, his eyes did look pretty creepy. And the grin he gave me…" He shivers. "It definitely wasn't the usual fare. But the way you're describing it sounds like a horror movie. Like he's possessed by his quirk or something."

"Yeah, that's about how I interpreted it too. He can't control himself, or at least he won't be able to much longer. Not without help."

Kaminari bites his lip, using one unsteady hand to tousle his hair. "And he'll take our quirks? Or, the quirks of anyone near him, at least? That's crazy. This whole story is crazy." He starts to pace back and forth across the path. "Why would you guys try this? Why would you ever think this was a good idea?"

Shinso can't help but scoff. "Oh, come on, like you wouldn’t do the same thing if you thought it would work. Imagine being able to use your quirk to any degree you wanted, no drawbacks, no short-circuiting. And you wouldn't even have to train." He's doubling down to justify his actions, not just to Kaminari, but to himself. He's in this game now, and he can't allow himself to withdraw, not when he's already put so much on the line.

"It's… it's different for me," Kaminari mutters, slowing his pace. "My quirk fries my nerves. The brain damage it's causing isn't obvious now, but eventually… that's why Jiro really chose our topic. She wanted to see if we could think up a way to help me out. I mean she didn't tell me that at first, but… yeah. I guess I might agree to try something like that, but I don't see why you or Midoriya would. You guys are doing fine."

"We're all desperate in our own ways. But that isn't important, not right now. What we're here to do is help Midoriya."

Kaminari’s eyes light up at that. "You mean you know how to reverse what you guys did?"

"No. But I do know how to make it right. And I need your help." Shinso clasps a hand around his classmate’s arm, halting him in his tracks. "Your quirk is classified as potentially lethal, isn't it? You weren't in class during the annual quirk control seminar, at least. I've heard that students with more deadly quirks have to attend."

The color drains from Kaminari’s face. "No way. No freakin' way am I electrocuting you to death. I'm out. Goodnight." Kaminari barks out a disbelieving laugh before he turns to leave, and a bolt of panic shoots through Shinso's veins.

Shinso doesn’t decide to lie, not consciously. But once the first words are out of his mouth, it's hard to stop. "You know how I said Midoriya might lose it soon? It's a little more imminent than I was making it sound." Kaminari stops, then turns back around. Shinso keeps talking. "He's not just a danger to himself either. He's already stolen some quirks, and some of them are lethal. If he keeps going like he is, he might use them. He's unstable right now; if a teacher or hero were to approach him, I think he'd lash out, and it certainly wouldn’t end well. But if it were me…"

Shinso stands a bit straighter. "He trusts me. And if I had an enhanced quirk, then I know I could make things easier on him. Pull him back from the brink. We have a method for discerning how Quirk Awakening will impact a person's abilities, and if I undergo it, it'll give me the enhancements I need to keep Midoriya from hurting himself, or anyone else. No one even has to know you did this. That any of us did. I'll introduce the enhancements slowly to uninvolved parties, and everyone will just think that it's the result of training. And if you see how it works for me and decide that you want to try it too… Well, I can certainly help with that in the future."

Kaminari gulps. "Okay, so let's say I do decide to help. Is there any chance of you, y’know… dying and not coming back?"

"No." Shinso feels horrible, lying as he is, but there doesn't seem to be another way to coerce his friend, and he absolutely does need to be able to help Midoriya, preferably as soon as possible. So it's not really a lie, so much as it is a necessity. "We've devised an adrenal-based compound that ensures survival. I've got some with me. As long as you follow my instructions, I'll be perfectly fine. I can guarantee it."

"And it has to be tonight?"

Shinso thinks for a moment. With Midoriya, he had always been the cautious one. The voice of reason. But that had been before he knew that their experiment would work, and before he'd seen just how desperately Midoriya required some form of aid. Now that he's got skin in the game, he can afford to be a little impulsive. And the edge an enhanced quirk will give him in his heroics career, well… that's just a bonus, not his primary motivator. He's justified in doing this, he has to be.

And if he waits another night, then Midoriya might decide to intervene. He doesn't approve of his friend's desire to repeat their experiment, that much is obvious, but if Shinso's hunch is correct, then he only hasn't acted yet because he assumes that Shinso will either chicken out, be unable to find a suitable partner, or decide to wait long enough to convince himself that he doesn’t need it. So it has to be now.

"Yes," he answers. "If we want to be sure we can prevent Midoriya from doing anything dangerous, then it has to be tonight."

"I hate that you decided to come to me for this." Kaminari rubs his temples. "This is way too much pressure. Besides, you know I short-circuit if I exceed my voltage limit. I can't resuscitate you if my brain's fried."

"You've raised your limit recently, haven't you? Death has been recorded with shocks as low as 50 volts, given they're administered to certain parts of the body. I'm pretty sure you can handle that. You've done more without losing it in the past."

He begrudgingly nods. "I can. But there are other things to consider too. You said Midoriya had EpiPens. We don't."

"No. But those were just precautionary. Because we didn't have the compound quite figured out yet. All we really need is CPR." He's being reckless, he knows that. But he also knows that if he stops now, he runs the risk of Midoriya being found out, and if that happens then he'll never get another chance. He can make do without the EpiPens, he trusts Kaminari, after all. "It's safe, I promise. You trust me, don't you?"

Kaminari looks him directly in the eyes. He sighs. "Yeah, okay. If you say it's safe, I'm cool with it. Let's do this."

Midoriya is lying in bed, eyes open and muscles tense, trying to drown out the incessant drone of static in his head. He has fifteen quirks in his repertoire now, not including One For All and its affiliations. Since obtaining them, he's taken to counting them when the voices grow especially difficult to ignore, examining them in his mind, taking stock of their abilities. They're not quite as alluring as the quirks outside his head, but they're there, and sometimes, that's enough. Not enough to stop him from clenching his fists so tightly that his nails dig into his skin, or enough to deter him from monitoring his classmate’s positions, or even enough to help him drift off into sleep. But they're his. Only his. That must count for something.

All Might has been trying to contact him, calling him periodically, leaving messages on his phone… he's missing training, he knows that, but he doesn't plan on repeating the pattern much longer. He's getting ahold of himself. He still hasn't caved, not once. He just has to hold out a little longer, and then, things will get better. They have to. They certainly can't get worse.

Erasure has tried to talk to him too. He'd actually come to the door. Midoriya had called out that he was sick, and after promising to go to the nurse's office to get a note and diagnosis, the conversation had been over. It had been very difficult not to steal that quirk, as loud as it was, but Midoriya had managed. And he's so proud of himself for that. He's making progress. He can fight this. 

It's only in his darkest moments that he doesn’t believe it. That he tells himself that maybe, just once, it would be okay to give in. To take one of the louder quirks. Dark Shadow, maybe, or Half-Cold Half-Hot, or Creation. Then the voices would shut up, and he'd use the quirk, just for a bit, before giving it back. It would be fine. No one would notice.

But he can't, he knows he can't. Because if he gives in even once, then he's lost the ideological battle. He's said that quirks are something he has the right to give and take as he pleases. He's played God. And he's worried that once he does, there won't be any going back from it. So he fought it. So he's fighting it. So he'll fight it forever.

He isn’t All For One, not the quirk or the person. He's Deku. He's a hero. That hasn't changed. It doesn't matter whose genes he has, because he's the only one with any say in what he does with them. His quirk doesn't control him, he controls it. Or he will, eventually. It'll just take some time.

To remind himself of this fact, he reaches inward, activating one of his least impactful quirks. He watches the freckles on the back of his hand shift from a deep tan, to vibrant magenta, phasing through each shade of the rainbow before returning once more to their resting pigmentation. Aptly though verbosely named, A Spot of Color allows him to alter the hue of the melanin in his skin to any of the seven major colors. It isn't a desirable quirk by any means, at least not outside of the world of cheap party tricks, but using it quiets the din of static around him just enough to give him some semblance of control. He flexes his hand, phasing the freckles rapidly between red and blue. The colors remind him of Togata Mirio, who is now technically a former holder of One For All.

One For All, which is Midoriya’s once more. He smiles, instinctively, as he recalls taking it. It hadn't even required permission, just touch, which the base version of All For One supposedly necessitates regardless. His quirk puts his father's to shame, and although he knows that that fact should concern him, at least on some level, he can't help but feel a bit vindicated. He isn't at all like his father. He's better . Midoriya wants All For One to know about his new quirk purely to see the look on what's left of his face when he discovers his son's real potential. The fact that a quirk stemming directly from his own has eclipsed it so entirely, and even better, is being used for heroics rather than villainy. It's an immature and spiteful desire, Midoriya knows that, but as sleep-deprived as he is, it's a little too easy to revel in childhood revenge fantasies made manifest.

He shakes his head. No, there's another pit he can't allow himself to fall into. Heroes aren't petty, and they definitely don't jeopardize their mentors' decades-old legacies for a chance to stick it to their absentee parents. Or at least he assumes they don't. He can't recall any relevant examples, certainly.

A presence cuts through the clamour of the night, holding a prominence so potent that it tears through the fabric of his being. There’s a new quirk on campus grounds, and it's obscenely powerful. No, not a new quirk, Midoriya realizes. He definitely knows it, but it's altered so drastically from its original state that true recognition doesn't immediately arrive. When it does, he feels a thrill of terror course through him. Brainwash.

Shinso.

He stands up, rushing out into the hall. He's wearing the same clothing he attempted to sleep in the night before, and his unbrushed hair is a disheveled mess, but it doesn't matter. He needs to go to the point he senses in the distance. Although his mind tells him that his motivation is to check on his friend, his quirk guides his feet, insisting that the power he senses in the distance is free game, up for the taking. He wants it, and it could be his. It could so, so easily be his. He only manages to reach the top of the stairs before the sirens start.

Shinso opens his eyes, and the air around him is sharp, and crisp, and alive . Every breath feels radiant, fresh, intense, to a degree that's entirely unreal, dreamlike yet utterly, undeniably existent, and immediate, and genuine. Now he knows what Midoriya had meant, lying on the bathroom floor soaked to the bone. He hasn't been living up until now, just existing. And there's absolutely no comparison between the two.

He recalls laying down on the path and requesting that Kaminari shock him at the highest voltage he could manage. He had impressed upon himself, as effectively as he could, the need to survive, to continue living. When he'd asked Kaminari to turn up the electricity slowly, so he could feel the pain, he'd received an incredibly concerned glare. He'd had to explain that the fear was vital, that he needed to hurt, to wish to cessate pain for the process to work as intended. Kaminari had resentfully complied. The pain had been immense, immeasurable, and he'd had to have been held in place to stop from lashing out. He'd at least prepared a cloth to stuff in his mouth; no one heard him scream, not even Kaminari. Then he'd lost consciousness.

Shinso removes the piece of wadded fabric from his mouth. "You did it!" He beams up at his friend. "You really did it. My quirk is enhanced, and everything feels-" He stops mid-sentence.

Kaminari looms over him, expression a mask of complete and utter calm, completely still save the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes aren't glassy like Shinso's victims' usually are, in fact, they look completely normal. Shinso thinks of a command instead of speaking it, silently urging Kaminari to write his name in the air with a finger. He does. Shinso sits up. He wordlessly commands his friend to say a greeting.

"Hello." Kaminari’s hand mechanically shoots into the air, granting him a harsh wave. His voice sounds utterly lifeless.

Shinso shakes his head, altering the order with the qualifiers natural and genuine.

"Hey, what's up?" Kaminari grins this time, shooting Shinso a quick finger gun. The gesture is so characteristic that if he didn't know better, he would say he had no control over his classmate at all.

He releases his grip, and Kaminari’s expression changes, first to frenzied panic, then to overwhelming relief. Before Shinso can say a word, he's pulled into an incredibly tight embrace. "You're alive! You're alive, and I didn’t kill you! I am never using my quirk anywhere near you ever again, you hear me? Promise me that if I do, you'll stay the fuck away!"

Shinso tries not to shrink away too obviously. He isn't a huge fan of physical affection, but he supposes that Kaminari has earned this. "Deal, but only if you stop smothering me."

Kaminari pulls away. "Ah, sorry! Yeah, guess that was a little much, huh? I was just…" He pauses, face going pale. "I was so worried you were dead forever. Dude, you didn't move. For a long time. I kept trying, but… um, well, did your quirk awaken?"

Shinso stares for a moment, unblinking. Apparently, Kaminari doesn't remember being controlled. "Yeah, I think-" The wail of sirens cuts off the word's last syllable. Shinso looks down. Kaminari's cell phone is pressed against the masonry by one hand, palm-down. His heart leaps.

"Who did you call, and what did you tell them?"

Kaminari looks incredibly taken aback by Shinso’s tone. "I'm sorry, I panicked. I thought you weren't coming back, so in-between compressions, I sort of used one hand to dial 119. I put the phone on speaker while I worked, and… well, they asked a lot of questions. I told them pretty much everything, when my mouth was free. You woke up right after the lady on the other end shut off the call, I guess, though that part's a bit fuzzy."

Shinso’s stomach drops. He told the authorities about their attempt at Quirk Awakening. The authorities, who kill or otherwise dispose of anyone with an awakened quirk. To be fair, he never mentioned that part to Kaminari. "I'm dead. I'm actually fucking dead. You didn't tell them about Midoriya, did you?"

Kaminari frowns, tilting his head to one side. "Is it bad that I did? You're making it sound like it's bad that I did."

"Holy shit." Shinso blinks. "Scratch that. We're actually fucking dead."

Midoriya has been locked, frozen, at the top of the stairs for at least a minute. Conflicting interests war in his head, arguing back and forth, and he isn't certain which one he's meant to listen to. A part of him wants to turn tail and head back to his room. Shinso is obviously alive, and if Midoriya goes to check on him, he'll doubtlessly be overpowered by the allure of his quirk, not to mention the quirk of whoever he's employed to help him. But at the same time, maybe that isn't such a bad thing. He wants quirks, Brainwash especially, and it's so close. All he has to do is go and take it. It isn’t like Shinso stands even a fighting chance of retaining it, after all.

"Oh. Midoriya. It's nice to see you out of your room. I think the emergency vehicles we're hearing are parked outside the front gate." Midoriya nearly jumps. Half-Cold Half-Hot is apparently right behind him. In the shadow of Brainwash, he hadn't even sensed it. "Should we go see what's going on?"

Midoriya makes a split-second decision. "Yeah, we should. Someone might be hurt." As they walk down the stairs beside each other, he has to fight to calm his quirk. It's almost easy, when he focuses on the distant glow of Brainwash.

When they hit the common rooms, they find Earphone Jack and Frog are already there, hanging around by the door. "Are you two concerned about the sirens too?" Midoriya isn't sure which of his classmates asked the question. It's far too loud to focus.

"Yes," Someone says. "We're going to go see what the problem is, just in case someone needs backup."

"We're coming too. It's hard to sleep with all that racket anyways." The reply could've come from anywhere.

Midoriya follows behind Frog, trying to focus on the color of her nightgown. As long as he can do that, he has something to latch onto. The rest of the world bleeds out of existence, its only perceivable parts the color green, the sound of sirens, and the call of quirks.

Someone says something, but he doesn't hear it. He can't do anything but walk, mechanically, in the direction of the pale mint nightgown. In the direction of Brainwash. Frog, Earphone Jack, and Half-Cold Half-Hot are there too. They're difficult to ignore, of course, as close as they are, wrestling each other into a wild dissonance. But they can wait. He knows what he wants.

He has no idea how much time passes before someone speaks again.

"Holy shit!" Someone exclaims. "Shinso, Kaminari, are you guys okay?"

Footsteps erupt around him as his anchor is torn away, speeding off towards the center of the world. Towards Brainwash. He draws a slow, deep breath inward. He follows.

"We're fine, I just fainted. Kaminari was worried, so he called me an ambulance. Just a little overreaction, no big deal."

"But what about your hair? It's standing on end. Like, worse than usual."

"Ah, right. That. See- wait. Is that Midoriya?"

He reaches out, extending his quirk, not his hand, and suddenly, Brainwash is his. For a moment, everything is perfect. Then, reason returns, and in the absence of his newly repossessed quirk, the four remaining pulses, Frog, Earphone Jack, Electrification, and Half-Cold Half-Hot begin to feel irresistible once more.

Realization dawns on Midoriya. He stole a quirk. He stole a quirk, and he couldn't stop himself. He's failed, he's taken a quirk without permission, without thinking at all of the person attached to it, just like- no. No, he can't think about that now, he can’t think about anything. Because there are other quirks there too, and they're all so close , so loud , so vital , and he wants them, so he should have them. He deserves them.

No.

He doubles over, hands clutched to his ears. He isn't going to listen. His quirk needs to shut up.

"Hey, are you feeling okay?"

A hand on his shoulder, a hand attached to a quirk, a quirk that he wants, that he needs, that he'll take- no. No, no, no.

"He looks like he's going to throw up. Or faint. Or both. Maybe we will need that ambulance after all."

Another quirk walks closer. He's going to take it, and then it'll be his and no one else's, just his, and he can use it however he wants- no. No, no, no, no, no.

"Midoriya, hey. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Too close, too close. No, just close enough, he doesn't even have to ask, because he knows how to use their quirks and they don't, they're wasting them, ruining them, and he knows better, he'll actually appreciate them- no. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

"Step back, if what Shinso told me is true, you do not want to be that close to him right now."

He's supposed to steal the quirks. He needs to. It's his purpose.

" Shut up ." Midoriya grinds out through gritted teeth. " Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. "

"Midoriya? What are you doing?"

It'll be fine. He was quirkless once, and he survived. A powerless existence is possible, just painful. Maybe it's time that the rest of the world learns what that feels like.

" Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. "

"Let go of them right now and give me my quirk back. You're losing control, and I need you to be here right now. Don't do something you'll regret. I promise I can help you if you just give it back. I'll make the quirks shut up for you."

No one knows what it feels like to go through what Midoriya’s going through. Anyone who ever had a chance is dead. If they knew what it felt like, they'd forgive him. He can explain it to them, and they'll understand. They won't hold it against him.

" Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! "

Shinso says something indiscernible. Blood pounds in Midoriya’s ears. If all the quirks around him would just disappear, then he'd have nothing to worry about. If he could just make them zap out of existence, he'd be fine. It would be quiet, and calm, and he could sleep, and eat, and go to class, just like he used to a few days ago, back before he decided to ruin his life. Before-

The static stops, utterly and completely. There's still the distant buzz of the dorm, but it's far away. So far away that he can ignore it. He's fine. He's alright. He made it through. Now all he has to do is give Brainwash back.

He stands up straight, opening his eyes. The scene laid out in front of him is like something out of a horror film.

Todoroki is sprawled out on the path almost directly in front of him, neck pierced through with a bloodied spear of ice. The red liquid pools around his face, framing his surreal expression, a flat mask of chilling indifference. It's the same expression that all of them wear: Jiro, head dented from repeated ramming against the pavement, Kaminari, strangled by his own hands, and Asui, who seems to have taken a dive off of a nearby tree headfirst.

Shinso is standing over Kaminari, tears running down his face. He turns to face Midoriya, and his eyes are glazed over with cold disbelief. "What the fuck did you do?"

"I'm sorry," Midoriya whispers. "I'm so sorry. I-"

Suddenly, Brainwash feels like something horrible. Like something dirty. He doesn't want it, doesn't want to have it, or use it, or even sense it, ever again. He gives it back to Shinso as quickly as he can, recoiling from it like a beaten dog.

"I- they- they're not-" Midoriya wraps his arms around each other, hugging them close to his chest. The metallic, iron scent of blood wafts up to his nose, and a wave of nausea hits him.

His gaze alternates between his friends, searching desperately for someone to save. Todoroki's jugular is severed, as is his spinal cord. Kaminari’s windpipe is crushed. Jiro has experienced far too much blunt force trauma to the skull. Asui's neck is snapped clean.

"With my quirk." Shinso's hand is pressed firmly against his mouth, hiding it entirely from view. He sways lightly on his feet. "You did this with my quirk. And then you gave it back."

"I just wanted them to go away. I didn't tell it to do this. It interprets things based on the specificity of the command you give. The quirk fills in the gaps. I wasn't thinking straight. I was too vague. I would never-" Midoriya's voice breaks. "I would never ask for this. You know that, right?"

Shinso shakes his head, quiet tears collecting on the edge of his hand. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what you asked for, because this is what you did . They’re dead , Midoriya."

He senses more quirks, fast approaching from the direction of the dorm building, and suddenly he's filled with an extremely acute sense of dread. He bolts for the school gate, no time to think things through, no time to consider why he's running, or even where he's running to, he just has to go, and fast.

"Wait!"

Shinso is on his tail, he knows that. He hears his footsteps, senses his quirk. But he doesn't stop running. He can't, not until he's alone, far enough from any quirks, and corpses, and blood, and friends, that he'll never have to think of any of it again. He closes his eyes, tight as he can, and pushes onward, ignoring the tears that slide off his face in the wind.

He collides, headfirst, with a person, before falling backward onto the pavement. Something odd occurs to him after he opens his eyes. He can't sense their quirk. 

It's a woman, he realizes after some inspection, wearing a crisp, pinstripe suit. She's accompanied by two men on either side, both just as sharply dressed. The woman smiles down at him, offering him a hand up. He stares at it, expression utterly blank. Recognition lights her face.

"Oh, you poor thing," She croons. "You're one of the Quirk Awakening victims, aren’t you? Your picture does match the file."

"That would be Midoriya Izuku," The man to her right offers. "Supposedly, he's our anomaly. Very promising, according to the witness account we received. He's marked for endorsement. So is his classmate, assuming he was successful. They'll be the first members of the program's Japan branch."

Midoriya hears Shinso's footsteps approaching behind him. Then suddenly, they halt in their tracks.

"Aaaand that would be our other target." The man to her left brandishes a manilla folder at the space beside Midoriya's head. "Shinso Hitoshi."

The woman nods, eyes unblinking. "How convenient. You two show these young men to the car. I'll clean up whatever's left of the situation that produced our AKQ brainwasher."

"Understood."

Midoriya turns to run, but before he can fully stand, he finds himself paralyzed in place, completely unable to move.

"Calm down, Kid. We're not here to hurt you." One of the men walks over, snapping something around Midoriya’s wrists. Quirk suppressor cuffs. "I'm assuming you want to be a hero, considering that you're attending Yuuei. We're here to help with that. You're familiar with Hawks, aren’t you? Oh, who am I kidding, of course you are!"

The man's tone is casual. Friendly. The smile he wears would be infectious, under entirely different circumstances. The man grabs his arm, lifting him up with some effort. "He wouldn't have gotten where he is today if it weren't for our guidance. We want to offer the same kind of benefits he received to you. You're a very promising talent, especially considering recent developments."

Midoriya tries to move. His nerves don't respond. "Sorry for the precautions, but we have to be sure you won't bolt, at least for the time being. There's a very important investigation underway on your campus right now. We can't have you accidentally getting in Agent Akiyoshi's way."

The man takes Midoriya outside the school gate, and much to his surprise, there's a crowd of cars parked on the curb. "Don't look so glum! Get psyched! If my debrief was right, we've got some very big plans for you." The man releases his paralysis quirk, pushing Midoriya into the open door of a sleek black sedan. "How's being the future number one hero sound?"

Chapter Text

Shinso opens his eyes, trying his best to shake off the grogginess of sleep. He's sitting up, though he isn't sure why, and there's something sliding lightly back and forth against his wrists, chafing his skin with each movement. When he takes the time to examine his surroundings, the events of the night prior hit him like a truck. Four classmates dead at the hands of his quirk, Midoriya finally losing it for good, and to top it all off, they'd both been kidnapped by what he assumes to be a group of government cronies.

He tries not to dwell on the images those memories conjure. Pools of blood, broken bodies, blank, emotionless faces permanently frozen in stasis. He feels a wave of nausea wash over him. He'd hated his quirk in the past, certainly, but that had been because of how others interpreted it. Now, he hates it because of something it's actually done. The latter is definitely worse. Kaminari is one of his only friends. Was one of his only friends. And now he's gone. Because of Shinso's quirk.

No, he can dwell on that later. Right now, he has to find out where he is.

After practicing some slow breathing exercises to quell his rising heart rate, Shinso takes stock of the room around him. With a heightened thrill of panic, he realizes that his surroundings resemble, almost exactly, the sets of interrogation rooms he's seen on television: dim overhead lighting, a single metal table, concrete flooring, and a wall of what he assumes to be one-way glass. The fact that he's handcuffed to the table with quirk suppressing technology really sends the image home.

He flinches back as the room's only door begins to open, knocking his wrist against the table in the process. He bites back a curse as a woman enters the room, closing the door behind her before taking a seat at the chair opposite his. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes.

"Hello Shinso, my name is Akiyoshi Yubi, and I'm an agent under the Hero Public Safety Commission. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright." Akiyoshi looks to be in her early thirties, and it's obvious from her clearly constructed expression that she considers Shinso to be a child. He's never quite liked being patronized.

"You're going to kill me, aren’t you? Could you get it over with? Or at the very least drop the act. I'm sixteen, not twelve. I know when I'm being interrogated."

Akiyoshi's smile falls, and she releases a measured sigh. "Okay, if you want me to be blunt, I'll be blunt. No, I'm not going to kill you. We don't operate like that anymore, at least not when minors are involved. If we catch your kind early enough, then rehabilitation is possible, albeit difficult."

Shinso's eyes narrow. "My kind? And what do you mean, rehabilitation?"

The woman rests her chin on one hand, propping her elbow against the table. "You're an awakened quirk individual, AKQ in shorthand. You're not quite classified as a human anymore, at least not in the legal sense. You gave that privilege up when you died. Aside from being property of the state, people like you differ from the average in the sense that your quirks make you dangerous. Irrational. They alter your brain chemistry to the point where you become a liability, bending your thoughts and desires to suit their general makeup. In the past, AKQ adults this organization has allowed to continue leading normal lives have all eventually become a danger in one way or another, both to themselves, and others. But with kids like you, help is possible, at least to a point."

Shinso thinks on that for a moment. "I don't feel dangerous."

"Not yet, you don't." Akiyoshi reclines back in her chair. "But you're a very recent case, the inclinations grow with time. And you're wearing quirk suppressor cuffs, which means that you shouldn't be feeling your quirk’s effects at all right now."

Shinso recalls Midoriya the way he'd been the night before. Wild. Unstable. Lethal. Suddenly, he believes Akiyoshi. "All right. So I'm dangerous. What does that mean for me and Midoriya?"

"Oh." The woman's eyes flash to the ceiling as she wrinkles her nose. "It means very different things for you and your friend, I'm afraid. But first things first. I've answered some of your questions, so it's time you answered some of mine. What happened last night at Yuuei?"

Shinso grimaces. "You can’t just drop something like that and then change the subject."

"Oh, but I can. I'm the one with the power in this situation, not you. Don't forget who's in cuffs here. I'll tell you what you want to know once you tell me what I want to know. Deal?"

Shinso begrudgingly nods. "Deal. Last night, I tried to awaken my quirk. I asked my friend," his voice breaks. "To help me, and-"

"Yes, yes. That I know." The woman waves a hand dismissively through the air. "What happened after we received the call? Four teenagers are dead, and I need to know what to tell an angry school board and eleven distraught parents."

Shinso blinks. Eleven distraught parents. Two for each classmate dead, one for Midoriya, and... how are Shinso’s parents reacting to this? How much do they know? Do they think he’s in police custody?

"Midoriya took my quirk. He used it to kill them. But he didn't mean to." He tries to swallow, but his throat is unbelievably dry. "After he'd realized what he'd done, he didn't want it anymore. He gave it back."

The woman scowls, tapping a manicured nail against the tabletop. "Really? Well, that complicates things."

"How so?"

Akiyoshi tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowing in consideration. Then, she exhales. "Oh, what the heck. I might as well tell you. We need to blame last night's events on someone, and we assumed that you were the obvious perpetrator. It would've made everything so easy. Now we'll have to twist you into a scapegoat instead. It's just a shame, that's all."

Shinso's stomach drops. "What do you mean scapegoat? Why?"

"Originally, we'd wanted both you and Midoriya to join our rehabilitation program. The two of you would've worked for the HPSC on proxy of the government while continuing to attend Yuuei and maintaining a number of basic freedoms. Every weekend and afternoon would've been spent training with us, and in turn, you would've received guidance and funding on your paths to becoming heroes, methods to keep your quirks in check, access to all our facilities, free housing, tax exemption, et cetera. You'd essentially be heroics industry plants, guaranteed preferential treatment and top careers for the remainder of your lives. Of course, you'd also be unable to deny assignments, and you'd be more or less at our mercy, but that's a small price to pay. You'd have been a tool, certainly, but a very well-loved one."

"And now?"

"Now?" The woman picks at a piece of lint on her sleeve. "Now, you'll be sent to Tartarus. We've determined that Midoriya Izuku’s quirk is more useful in the long term than yours, and as much as it pains us to waste your talent, someone needs to be held accountable for this. You went rogue one night and killed four of your classmates. We'll let the public speculate as to why. Maybe you couldn't handle the stress of the heroics course, or you were a villain plant all along. We don't particularly care. The important thing is that no one questions that it was your quirk that did it. Which shouldn't be hard. Because when it really comes down to it, it was your quirk that did it."

Shinso feels his pulse quicken. She can't be serious. "And what, Midoriya walks away clean?"

She smiles. "Clean, and a trauma survivor. Everyone loves a hero with a tragic backstory. The public will just adore him."

Shinso's head feels far too light on his shoulders. "Midoriya won't lie for you. He'll want to face the repercussions of his actions."

"Oh, Sweetheart." The woman tuts. " No one wants to face the repercussions of their actions. If we give him an out, I promise you, he'll take it."

"I'll tell someone." Shinso's voice is faint. He knows he's already lost. "I won't take this lying down."

"You can tell away." Akiyoshi waves a hand. "If anyone can hear you in Tartarus and is willing to believe a convicted murderer, then I'm sure they're not the kind of audience my employers and their affiliates are concerned with."

Shinso sinks into his chair. He's spent his whole life being told he's a villain, and now, everyone will have to listen. He'll be on the news, in the paper... people will think he killed Kaminari. He'll spend the rest of his life in prison. And Midoriya will spend the rest of his life a hero. Shinso hadn’t even started this. He'd known that it was a bad idea. He'd tried to stop it. The whole thing seems monumentally unfair.

"So why am I here?" He hates how vulnerable his voice sounds. He's trying to compose himself, but his world is falling apart around him and there's absolutely nothing he can do to stop it.

"A confession would be nice, but we don't particularly need one. Otherwise I wouldn't have bothered telling you the things I have. Really, you were only placed here for the purpose of recounting last night's events. We wanted to know what we were working with before we addressed our new recruit. It's actually about time that I take my leave, but considering how difficult I assume this must be for you to process, I am willing to answer any further questions you might have before I depart. While the HPSC is mainly concerned with civilian safety, we do try to treat even public threats humanely, when possible."

"I…" Shinso is completely dumbstruck. This woman has just told him that she plans to frame him for murder, and now, she's sitting in front of him wearing what he assumes to be the world's most chipper grin while delivering a line so artificial that it could've come straight from a propaganda piece. Eventually, he manages to shake his head.

"No questions? Alright then. Thank you so much for your cooperation, and good luck." She stands, pushing in her chair before heading to the door. Her hand lingers on the knob as she casts Shinso a backward glance. "Trust me, second to what your friend's being given, this really is the best outcome for you. You aren't dead, and your quirk will be repressed for the remainder of your life, so you'll still maintain your current consciousness. There are worse fates. I've seen them. Be grateful for what you're getting."

She opens the door, exits and then, just like that, she's gone.

Shinso is alone.

Chapter Text

"Has the medication been helping?"

Midoriya blinks. It's a fair question certainly, especially seeing as it's his therapist who's asking, but even so, it sounds horribly inadequate as it falls on his ears. It's too vague. Too malleable. "My quirk's influence isn't as strong as it was, if that's what you're asking."

"That's excellent to hear!" She smiles, and the gesture seems genuine. Still, for the life of him, Midoriya can’t remember her name, even after six sessions and two separate introductions. In the face of everything else, it seems impossible to care. "I know that that was one of your main concerns. But I'd also like to check in with you on your emotional wellness, if that's okay. Have you been feeling better since our last session?"

Midoriya assumes that the answer to that question must be obvious at a glance. He's wearing the same clothing he wore to yesterday's session, he's only showered once in six days, and he still hasn't gotten to the point where he feels motivated to brush his hair. He hasn't done anything of his own volition since being given a room at the HPSC headquarters, aside from sleep. He wouldn’t even attend these sessions, if he weren't forced to. He knows what happened that night, no matter how hard they try to convince him otherwise. He knows what he did. And he knows what it makes him. He trains his eyes on the wall, mouth sealed shut.

"Midoriya, you know I can't help you unless you talk to me. Is something bothering you?"

"I killed them. I'm not delusional. I know I did." He can’t keep himself from sounding just a bit frantic as he speaks the words. He's spoken them every time he's attended a session, and even so, they still hold the same amount of fear. Fear that they really might not be true. Fear that they are. He knows which possibility is worse, yet he persists in its defense. "I used Shinso's quirk, but it was me."

She shakes her head, the gesture carrying just the right combination of sympathy and indulgence to switch Midoriya’s anxiety back into full gear. "You don't have to keep telling yourself that. I understand that you're having trouble processing what happened, but absolutely none of it was your fault. There's no need to place a stigma on the idea of delusions, either. Survivor's guilt is an extremely common phenomenon, and it can manifest itself in a number of-"

"Where's Shinso?"

The psychologist winces. "I don't think we're quite ready to-"

"Where is he? He didn't do anything wrong. If he's being punished for this somehow, then you need to tell me."

She intakes a long, slow breath before releasing an even more prolonged exhale. "I know that you considered him a friend, but it isn’t healthy for-"

"Stop." Midoriya shakes his head. "Stop acting like I'm confused. I… I already don't trust myself right now, and you're making me feel like I'm…"

"Crazy? We don't use that word in the field of psychology. It's harmful to patients, not to mention ultimately unproductive. You aren't crazy, Midoriya, but you have been through a very traumatic experience, and a bit of self-doubt is to be expected, at least for the time being. How about we change the subject to something more positive for now? You said that your quirk hasn't been quite so impactful since you began your medication. Care to expound on that?"

He frowns. He really hadn't expected that line of discussion to go anywhere, but he really doesn't like that response, especially considering that it's actually somewhat convincing. Maybe it is better to discuss something different. 

"When my quirk was active, I couldn't focus on anything outside of it. All I was really capable of doing was thinking about quirks, mostly in terms of why I wanted them and what I could do to get them. I've never felt so… self-centered before. When it got really bad, it was difficult to even see people as people anymore. Impossible, actually. I… I really hated how that felt." He feels an involuntary shiver run down his spine. "I'm grateful for the quirk suppression pills, by the way. You can tell my psychiatrist that, if you see them. I know it doesn't look like they're helping, but I can promise you that I'd be a whole lot worse without them."

"I'll be sure to tell him." She grins, shifting in her chair. "There's very little research on Quirk Awakening cases. In fact, I think I may be one of two in my profession to know of their existence. But I can assure you that regardless of how your quirk has affected you in the past, rehabilitation is possible. You'll be back to studying heroics at Yuuei in no time."

Midoriya knows that her words are meant to reassure him, but in actuality, they do little more than subject him to a sobering wave of regret. He doesn't want to go anywhere near any of his classmates. Even if what he's been told is correct, and he didn't lose control on campus, he still doesn't trust himself around them. He doesn't trust himself around anyone with a quirk. And besides, how is he meant to face them after this? How is he meant to face All Might?

With his quirk's influence dulled, he's finally able to consider the implications of what he's done. He doesn't just have All For One. He has a version of All For One that's been enhanced twice , once by Quirk Awakening and again by One For All. One For All, which he took back from Togata when he definitely shouldn't have. If All For One finds out about him, forget fearing for his own life. He'll either have his quirk immediately stolen, or barring such a possibility, be used as a tool in whatever form he can be. Not to mention the fact that if his memory can be trusted, he's a killer. He isn't just unworthy of One For All, he's unworthy of being a hero in general.

Worse is the fact that even with his quirk chemically buried, he still feels its pull, faintly goading him from behind the mental blocks he's employed to bury it. While the logical part of him knows that he needs to find another, more suitable successor for One For All, he still can't help but feel extremely possessive of it. He also doesn't want to admit that part of the reason he's been so incredibly distant with his therapist is because she's quirkless. 

While his ability to sense quirks is integrally stifled by his medication, he can still feel them radiating through the air when a person gets close enough. The HPSC has been sure to keep him separate from any individuals with quirks; the only few he's encountered so far have been passersby in hallways. Apparently, it had been fairly difficult for them to find a quirkless therapist to fly in, and even more difficult to catch her up to speed quickly enough without violating Quirk Awakening containment laws. He's been told that she's studying the material they possess with a pre-established psychologist, who despite being far more educated on the subject, possesses a quirk, and has thus been deemed unfit for direct interaction.

While he's grateful that such care has been taken to ensure that he doesn’t lose control again, it's honestly something of a double-edged sword. His quirk doesn't necessarily dislike the quirkless, that would be far too strong a word. Instead, it appears to view them as unimportant, dull, and ultimately, beneath his notice. Lately, all of his social interactions have been undercut with a constant stream of disinterest so strong that it borders on annoyance, the consistent insistence that his conversation partner is a nonentity. He doesn't like it, but it's nearly impossible to ignore, and although it scares him, it doesn’t scare him quite as much as he wants it to.

"You keep saying that." Midoriya's voice sounds drained. Empty. "But I don’t think you understand. I can't be a hero after this. I can't be anything. I need to be contained so I can't hurt anyone else."

"You didn't hurt anyone in the past, and I'm here to make sure you won't be able to do so in the future either." Her brow creases, mouth curling into a maddeningly patronizing grin. "You can still be a hero. It's just going to take some time and effort. I know that you can overcome this."

Midoriya grits his teeth. He doesn’t want to overcome this. He doesn't deserve to. And he certainly doesn't want to listen to his quirk when it tells him that none of it matters. That he should be a hero, not because of the good he can do, but because of the access the career would grant him. He doesn't need an external voice supporting it. "I think I'm done for today."

"But we've barely-"

" I'm done ," Midoriya snaps. There's absolutely no way he's going to allow himself to be ordered around, certainly not by someone as insignificant as this woman. "Get out."

There must be something telling in his tone, because it only takes a few moments for his therapist to gather her things and leave. She closes the door behind her, and he hears a lock click into place. He knows he's supposed to be trapped, and he's glad for it. Even though he could break out at any opportunity, even though it would be so incredibly easy, he won't. He should be locked away, and he can only hope that soon, the HPSC will realize that too.

He shuts off the room's overhead lights before walking over to his bed and collapsing onto it unceremoniously. He's been taking sleeping pills around the clock, and though he can't imagine that it's at all healthy for his liver, he doesn't particularly care. Because when he's awake, he can’t stop himself from reliving that night on repeat, over and over again, in a torturous cycle of blood, and regret, and self-loathing. It's the same reason why all but a few bites of the food he's been periodically given remain uneaten. The same reason why he hasn't even asked after his confiscated phone. The same reason why he doesn't spend his free time reading, or training, or taking advantage of any number of the other entertainment options he's been offered. It's all too much.

He palms two more pills from the bottle on his bedside table before downing them and shutting his eyes. He knows that the nightmares will wake him up eventually, but he won't remember them. He never does. Being awake is worse than being asleep, regardless. 

When sleep finally finds him, he welcomes it.

"He's stubborn, I'll give him that." Akiyoshi can't help but sigh as she watches the footage of Midoriya Izuku’s most recent therapy session, fingers tapping restlessly against her desk. "The president wanted his training to begin this week, but the way things are going, I think we'll be lucky enough if we can convince him to leave his room this month. I know it was the board's idea to keep him instead of his friend, but I'm starting to believe that the alternative might've been much more simple. We'll never manage to properly recruit him."

As loath as she is to admit it, Akiyoshi hates her new assignment. Things were so much easier before the rules had changed, before her team had been told to rehabilitate minor Quirk Awakening cases rather than eliminate them. She knew exactly when the board had changed their minds regarding their reaction policies, the day that Hawks had been announced as Japan's number two ranked hero. They'd taken a chance on him a long time ago, prior to her own employment, though his case had been far less bloody than Midoriya’s, and his quirk's inclinations hadn't been half as dangerous. Besides, he'd been found as a young child, not a teenager, which must've been so much easier to manage. Of course her predecessor would have all the luck. It figures.

"I think that conclusion might be just a bit pessimistic, don't you?" Sakaguchi cranes his neck to view his coworker's computer screen. "There's actually a very obvious and simple solution to our little reluctant hero problem, if you're willing to be a bit unethical about it."

Akiyoshi bites her lip. Her teammate's ideas are usually effective, if not entirely endorsed by the HPSC board, but seeing as the higher ups are already demanding so much from them to begin with, she can hardly imagine that bending the rules a bit could hurt. "What do you have in mind?"

"He said that he's more self-centered when his quirk is active, didn’t he?" Akiyoshi nods in response. "Well, from what I've been told, he's on some very potent suppressives right now, and even as it is, they still aren't entirely effective. I know we're supposed to ease him off gradually as he gets a handle on his quirk, but if you were to reduce the active ingredients and dosage now, well… I definitely think he'd be much easier to manipulate. Try the carrot and stick method with quirks. If he does what he's asked, he gets a shiny new toy. Ask for permission to let him take villains' quirks prior to imprisonment, I doubt the board will mind. Besides, he's already said that his quirk stops him from viewing people as people. Maybe if we let it have a bit more free reign, he'll finally stop moping about his friends and start taking his training seriously. As long as he can put on a convincing front in public, he doesn't really need to be empathetic. Have his therapist encourage the behavior. He'll be ready for use in no time."

"That certainly sounds like it could work." She reclines back in her chair, pausing the footage on a shot that offers a clear view of Midoriya's face. "And the law is incredibly lenient when it comes to AKQ individuals. I don’t even think we'd be breaking it, considering their status as nonhuman entities."

"Exactly," Sakaguchi concurs. "No more depression, no more wasted resources, and no more dissatisfied commission board. Everyone wins. He'll probably even accept the lies regarding his involvement in the Yuuei incident. The only reason he hasn't yet is guilt."

"Right. Okay then. It's decided." Akiyoshi opens an email tab, preparing to begin correspondence with the HPSC's active head psychiatrist and new secondary psychologist. "If our recruit won't become a hero on his own, then we're going to make him one. Whether he wants it or not."

Chapter Text

"I'm ordering room service. Do you want anything?"

Shinso blinks, looking up from his work to lock eyes with Nagant. The bullet wound he received, if he can even call it that, is shallow, more a graze than anything else. It's already stopped bleeding following the application of bandages and applied pressure, but even so, it still hurts. The physical pain isn't quite as harsh, however, as knowing that the injury was completely preventable. He's slow, rusty from disuse, and his quirk feels foreign to him now after spending so many years buried. He should've sensed the guard first, but he hadn't.

Shinso considers the woman’s question for a moment. He takes care to keep his quirk retracted as he responds. "Hand me the menu."

She complies, and as he studies his options, Shinso can’t help but feel incredibly overwhelmed. He's eaten the same exact meal for ten years with no break to the monotony; a few hours ago, the idea of ever seeing a fresh vegetable again would've seemed like a pipe dream. But he needs to adjust to the introduction of complex foods, he knows that. Disdainfully, he turns to the lighter portion of the menu.

"Get me a small salad. I don’t care which."

She raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "A salad? We're at one of priciest resort hotels in Musutafu, spending money that isn't ours, and you're ordering a salad?"

Shinso shrugs, ignoring the spike of pain the motion sends ricocheting through his injured arm. "I'm not very hungry."

"Bullshit." She scoffs, raising the landline's receiver to her mouth. "I'm getting you the lobster and crab one. Thank me later."

He sighs, rising from his place on the couch. He'd chosen Lady Nagant as his getaway driver for two reasons. The first had been the fact that her cell was directly adjacent to his. The second was that she looked to be in her forties, and thus could be safely assumed to have a driver’s license. 

He'd wanted to drop her as soon as he'd reached Musutafu city limits, but she hadn't been quite so keen, making the appeal of safety in numbers before offering him her skills as a sniper. Despite knowing that their shaky alliance would benefit her far more than it would him, he'd eventually agreed once they'd both realized that they shared a common goal. Still, that doesn’t mean that her obstinate familiarity annoys him any less.

He locks the bathroom door after he enters, more for privacy than anything else. He's only entered to use the mirror, but being around Nagant is incredibly draining, and he needs a respite, more to quiet his quirk than out of an actual desire to replicate the conditions of his long term in solitary confinement. When his eyes meet the mirror, he finds that he's looking at a stranger. He's significantly taller now, though he can't be sure by how much without a measuring tool, and he's lost a considerable amount of weight and muscle mass. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced, purple against the pale, sun-deprived backdrop of his skin.

He needs to shave, so he does, producing a travel kit from his backpack of randomly assorted goods. The second car he and Nagant had stolen belonged to a traveling businessman on his way to the airport, and aside from taking his carry on, Shinso had also rooted around in one of his suitcases for clothing. The button up he's wearing now is a little long on the arms, and his slacks need to be belted to stay up around his waist, but the Oxfords fit well enough, so ultimately, he really can’t complain. Especially not when he recalls that Nagant is wearing a men's two piece that, despite being overly large in some places, is in no way tailored to her curves. He might feel sorry for her, if she weren’t a villain.

After he's finished cleaning his face, he emerges from the bathroom. Nagant's presence radiates out from her in thin, wispy tendrils, far more defined than most. Shinso has come to realize that the distinction means she has a strong will, though his ability to detect it isn’t a particularly useful extension of his quirk. If the experiences he’s had are to be believed, then he can control anyone with the same degree of precision and totality regardless of their mental fortitude, reducing people to puppets with the same ease as breathing. The thought is equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, and as he turns it over in his head, he can almost understand Midoriya, just a bit. It's fun to play God.

"Ugh, you're doing it again." Nagant puts a hand to her temple, rubbing it with measured grace. She’s moved over to the hotel room’s couch, where she now appears to be nursing a complimentary bottled water. "People can feel it, you know. When you try to manipulate them without actually taking hold."

He draws back, letting his quirk recede into itself. It can't be turned off. Not anymore. But it can be contained easily enough. Knowing when to contain it and igniting the desire to do so, however, can occasionally prove difficult.

“Sorry,” he says, and he really means it. “It activates subconsciously sometimes. If I do it again, call me on it.”

“Trust me, I will.” Nagant does a quick double take as she turns her head to address him, studying him with practiced scrutiny after a moment of disbelief. The beginnings of a frown dawn on her face. “You shaved.”

“Why the tone?”

“You’re younger than I thought you were.” She tilts her head, eyes taking on a softer edge. “How many years were you incarcerated?”

Shinso sets his shoulders, standing up as straight as he can manage. He recognizes something in her expression. Pity. Inadvertently, he scowls. “That’s none of your business.”

“Is your name also none of my business?” She unscrews the cap of her water bottle, her movements minute and controlled. Her eyes haven’t lost their sympathy, though now, she trains them on her hands instead of his face. “I can’t keep calling you Prisoner 1623. It’s a bit of a mouthful.”

“You haven’t told me your real name either.”

“I was referring to your alias.” She sighs, crossing one leg carefully over the other. “You were a villain before you were captured, weren’t you? You’d have to be if you were considered high profile enough for maximum security. What did you go by?”

Shinso can’t help but flinch at that. “I am not a villain. I was framed.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’ve been acting so high and mighty.” Nagant rests her chin on a closed hand, elbow propped lazily against the couch’s armrest. She appears completely unperturbed, though the corners of her mouth are still turned ever so slightly downward. “Well, I suppose someone should call Tartarus then. Once they hear that you aren't a villain, I'm sure they'll drop whatever charges were unfairly attributed to you. As for aiding in my escape, well… that's hardly a crime, is it? And of course they won't mind that you stole those cars, these clothes, that luggage... You were desperate, after all.”

“Cut the sarcasm. I can kick you out of this hotel room, you know. Without me, it’s going to be awfully difficult to find shelter.”

“And now I’m ungrateful too? Truly, I am the villain here. Thank God you have the courage to threaten me when I'm defenseless.” Nagant rolls her eyes. “In all seriousness though, I’m getting tired of this back and forth. C’mon Kid, at least give me a letter to work with.”

“Kid?” Shinso narrows his eyes. “I’m twenty-six.”

“Exactly. A kid.” She nods, though her expression is more teasing than cold. “You know what? If you don’t give me something else to work with, then that’s what I’m going to call you.”

Shinso tries not to let his dissatisfaction show on his face. “You’re incredibly annoying.”

“Thanks, I try.” There’s a knock at the door. “You should get that.”

Shinso activates his quirk before opening the door, grabbing the tray and placing a generous tip of stolen cash in its wake. Afterward, he urges the man to return to his post, hoping that his quirk’s impact will last long enough that the confused worker won’t return with questions. The cash should certainly help. Nagant’s grin is brilliant as he sets each plate down on the coffee table, her eyes as wide as saucers. He isn’t surprised to see that she’s ordered an appetizer along with her meal, as well as what appears to be a bottle of imported French champagne.

“I haven’t eaten like this in ages. Mmmm, just smell that. Actual food . But first...” She pours herself a flute of champagne before filling a second. She places it in front of him, raising her own as if to encourage a toast. “To freedom.”

Shinso stares at the glass for a moment before lifting it. He’s never drank before, that much is true, but like any teenager, he’s always been curious. It’s more than a bit disturbing to realize that now, he’ll be drinking legally. As much as he defends his status as an adult, he certainly doesn’t feel like one. “To freedom,” he parrots, clinking his flute against Nagant’s.

“And the downfall of the Hero Public Safety Commission.” She adds, taking a long sip of champagne.

Shinso mirrors her, though he regrets the decision almost immediately. The drink has the same consistency as an especially sharp glass of sparkling water combined with a taste reminiscent of fruit-scented rubbing alcohol. Not only does it feel harsh on his throat, but it also gives him the overwhelming urge to spit into the nearest sink. He must make a face, because Nagant’s eyebrows quirk.

“You’re acting like a teenager trying alcohol for the first time,” she notes, setting down her glass. After a moment, shock dawns on her face. “Wait- don’t tell me. You weren’t sent to Tartarus before you turned twenty, were you?”

Shinso pointedly avoids eye contact. “I already said that topic was none of your business.”

"Holy shit. You were." Nagant takes another, longer swig of champagne. "And you say you weren't a villain? With a quirk like yours, you certainly weren't a civilian, but you don't seem to have an alias. Were you a heroics student?"

"Stop asking questions," Shinso growls, staring down into his salad. He's surprised when Nagant actually listens. He eats in silence for a full minute before realizing what he's done. "Shit."

He looks up to find Nagant staring blank faced at the wall behind his head, body frozen stone-still in place. He's done that a few times, given a command without consciously working to keep his quirk in check. They’d almost crashed because of it once, an incident he’s glad his companion can’t recall. He shoves his quirk behind a mental wall, stubbornly ignoring the faint pushback it applies. Nagant resumes eating unperturbed, her actions continuing as seamlessly as if he had unpaused a video. No harm no foul. And besides, she'd done what he wanted. Maybe it isn’t so bad if he uses his quirk every once in a while. It's not like it's dangerous.

Shinso shakes his head. He needs to find some quirk suppressants, and fast.

"Mind if I turn on the television?" Nagant asks. "I wanna check the news."

He shrugs, concealing the guilt he feels behind a grimace. "Go ahead."

The screen blinks to life, its surface already displaying the local news. Shinso nearly chokes on a piece of lettuce as he reads the headline.

"Wow, so All Might and Endeavor are out for good, huh?" Nagant comments between bites. "I thought Hawks would've taken the number one spot, but I suppose number two isn't bad. I have no idea who the new guy is, though. He's young, isn't he?"

"He's twenty-six." Shinso can't believe it. Apparently, the HPSC agent he’d spoken to hadn't been lying in the least. "And his hero name is Deku."

Nagant lowers her utensils, gaze alternating between Shinso and the television screen. "You two have a history?"

"Something like that."

She grants him a knowing frown. "He doesn't look very imposing. Is he any good?"

"He should be, if his quirk is anything to go off of. I'd be willing to bet that most villains find him terrifying." The stats that begin to March across the television only serve to back his claim. Annual rescue rates, villain takedowns, popularity rankings, and approval poll results feature among them, each new line of text just as impressive as the last.

"Those numbers can't be real." Nagant gapes. "There's just no way. The commission must not be providing accurate stats."

Shinso shakes his head. "Maybe, but I don’t think so. If you knew him, you'd understand." When Hawk's stats appear, the chasm between first and second is revealed to be glaringly wide. There's simply no comparison between the two.

"Don't tell me." Nagant taps a nervous finger against the coffee table. "Is that the guy you said you took a fall for? The one who's in the Commission's pocket?"

Shinso sighs. "Yeah. That would be the guy."

"Shit. This is starting to look a whole lot worse for us."

"Worse, but not impossible." Shinso can't take his eyes off Midoriya. Something about his ex-classmate’s expression in the featured photo irks him. He's wearing a smile that Shinso knows well, but simultaneously finds completely forgein. The tilt of his mouth, the way his nose crinkles, the edges of his eyes… Shinso can’t place it, but it's extremely off-putting. "We've both got strong quirks. With proper planning, it'll be easy. Besides, it's not like either of us are necessarily expecting to survive this, are we?"

"No, we aren’t." Nagant's expression is gentle, its lines containing far more pity than Shinso is willing to receive. He snaps his eyes towards the wall, hiding from the regret it radiates. "Are you sure you want to do this, Kid? Changing the world has always been the only option for me, but you're young. If you run away now, you still have your whole life ahead of you."

"A life in hiding isn't much of a life." Shinso tries not to sound too bitter. He fails. "I don't really care so much about changing things, but I'm definitely doing as much damage as I can before I go. Either I get revenge, or I die trying."

Nagant sighs. "Alright then. Here." She pushes the still untouched appetizer over to his side of the table. "In that case, you should probably eat something a bit more substantial than a small salad."

"I'm not-"

"I ordered it for you in the first place. If you don't eat it, it's going to go to waste." She drains the remainder of her champagne in one gulp before setting down the glass. "I'm going to take a shower. The bed closest to the window is mine, so don't touch it if you decide to go to sleep before I get out."

Shinso rolls his eyes as she shuts the bathroom door. He'd been planning on showering too, of course, and now, he'll have to wait for her to finish. In the meantime though, it couldn't hurt to have some of the food she so presumptuously ordered for him. He hates to admit it, but she might've been right when she'd said that the salad wasn't enough. Not that she'll ever hear it from him, of course.

After he finishes eating, he switches off the television and walks over to the balcony doors. He can make out the lights of Yuuei far off in the distance, glowing in the exact same spot they always have been. The world didn't stop moving just because he left it. That would be ridiculous. Still, he can’t help but wish it did.There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, a truth that he knows to be inexorable. 

Everything has changed.

Chapter Text

“So, what’s it like, interning with Deku?”

Eri isn’t quite sure how to respond, especially considering that Izumi is within earshot only a few seats away. Izumi, who is still incredibly miffed that she received an invitation to intern with Midoriya while he didn’t.

“Inconsistent, mostly,” She offers, eying her friend through her peripheral vision. He’s pretending to write something in his notebook, but she can tell that he’s silently stewing. “The majority of the villains he fights are too high profile for interns to be involved with, so I’m usually relegated to patrol work. It’s pretty boring.”

“Right, but what about when you do get to work with him?” Her classmate asks, an expectant grin plastered across her face. “Does he look as cool fighting up close as he does on television?”

Eri shrugs noncommittally. It’s always awkward when someone with an obvious celebrity crush asks after Midoriya, and now is no different. The sisterly discomfort she feels every time one of her friends obsesses over him is absolutely immeasurable, though she’d never tell them that directly. If they knew that she spoke to Midoriya outside of her internship, she can only imagine that the questions would grow more frequent, and that definitely isn’t something she wants. “He looks about the same.”

When her friend gestures for a continuation, Eri takes a moment to think. “Uhhh… he’s taller than he looks on TV, I guess?” That statement gets a halfhearted, but ultimately approving, nod.

Eri can’t help but sigh in relief when the bell rings. “Oops, looks like school’s out! I’ll talk to you more about our project tomorrow, but Kota and I have some stuff planned for tonight, so we’ve gotta head out. See ya!” She practically jumps out of her seat, scooping up her bookbag and striding over to grab Izumi’s arm. He narrows his eyes at her, craning his neck to speak into her ear.

“You can’t use me as an excuse every time you want to leave a conversation, you know,” he whispers. “Your friends might be dumb, but they’re not that dumb.”

Eri sighs. “You don’t really mean that. You’re just angry about Izuku and taking it out on uninvolved parties. I understand why you're upset, but trust me, you aren’t missing out on much.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t even want to intern with him in the first place. Weren’t you trying to go for Uravity’s agency? You want to be a rescue hero, not a combat one. She’s much more geared towards your desired specialty. Izuku knows that too. He also knows that I want to specialize in the same things he does, but I guess that doesn’t matter to him.” Izumi’s voice is bitter, and Eri wishes, with just as great an intensity as he does, that Midoriya had chosen him instead of her, or better yet, both of them. She’d love to intern with a friend. But of course, Midoriya simply doesn’t operate that way.

“I don’t understand it either,” Eri lies. “But you know that working with him can be… difficult. He’s very particular.”

Izumi still hasn’t lost his idealistic view of Midoriya, the idea that he’s the model of the perfect, selfless, textbook hero who always saves others no matter the cost. Eri is far more disillusioned, though she attributes her difference in opinion primarily to her childhood experience with the Shie Hassaikai. She knows how to tell a genuine smile from a false one, and more than that, she knows when she’s being condescended to. Maybe Izumi does too, but he certainly doesn’t want to. His faith in Midoriya means a lot to him, she knows that, and it certainly isn’t something she wants to take away. She’s experienced how horrible it feels to lose faith in someone you idolize, slowly, painstakingly, unwillingly, and she isn’t going to force that on anyone else, not if they don't want it.

In truth, Eri does know why Midoriya chose her over Izumi. Her quirk is rarer than his, and arguably far more versatile. And these days, that’s really all it takes.

“Particular is a good thing,” Izumi mutters, increasing his pace as the two exit the main building. “It means he actually cares if you’re improving. Red Riot is always encouraging no matter what I do. One time, I tripped while I was chasing down a villain, and he told me that I should be proud because it meant I was trying my best. If I have to hear the word manly one more time, I’m going to puke.”

Eri can’t help but giggle a bit at that. “Aw, don’t! Kirishima is so sweet! Besides, he’s just as good a teacher as Izuku, I can guarantee you that. I’d be honored if he called me manly, especially on a weekly basis.”

“No you wouldn’t.” Izumi scoffs, trying to conceal a grin. “There’s a reason he’s ranked in the thirties, and it isn’t because he’s the best. You can’t argue with statistics.”

“Those are heroics statistics. They don’t say anything about teaching ability.” Eri tuts, waggling a finger in imitation of Aizawa. “Besides, we both know that the billboard charts are partially a popularity contest. Many fans does not a hero make.”

“You’re right on that one,” Izumi concedes, nodding his head. “I hope I never have half the fangirls and fanboys Izuku has. I think I’d quit on the spot if someone asked me to autograph their-”

“ Don’t finish that sentence,” Eri interrupts. “I can’t believe that happened on live television. I’ve never seen Izuku look so flustered before. I wish they hadn’t cut the feed, now we’ll never know if he agreed to do it or not.”

Izumi actually laughs at that, and Eri can’t help but smile. It’s taken a bit, but she thinks that she’s actually managed to cheer him up, at least for the time being. Her phone begins to ring, and his smile shatters.

“Oh. That’s the ringtone you have set for Izuku, isn’t it? I’m sure he needs you for something. Don’t worry, I can walk back to the dorms on my own.” 

“Wait!” Eri grabs his arm as he turns to leave, stopping him in his tracks. After he grants her an especially exasperated eye roll, she releases her grip, producing her phone from her pocket. With a few motions, she rejects the call. “I doubt it’s all that important, and if it is, he can text me. It’s supposed to be my night off anyways, I’d rather spend it with you than out on an extra patrol.”

Izumi blushes, avoiding her eyes. “You shouldn’t-”

Her phone buzzes in her hand. Exasperated, she checks her texts. “Okay, well, I guess he does want to meet up, but he says it’ll be quick. You should come with me, I bet he’ll be excited to see you. He can also explain why he only extended an offer to me. I’m sure that it’s just because of a staff shortage or something, you know he thinks the world of you. You can probably even pick up some free merch while we’re at it. It’ll be fun.”

If Izumi really still believes what Midoriya tells him, then she isn’t lying. It probably will be. Although it’s obvious that Midoriya doesn’t operate in quite the same way most people do emotionally, he’s very good at faking it. Because he knows that the proper thing to do is console Izumi following his rejection, he’ll do it, and he’ll put on a good show too. Midoriya always knows what people want to hear, and in her opinion, he’s usually a bit too ready to say it.

The fact that many of Midoriya’s interactions feel false isn’t necessarily a problem for Eri. She knows that a lot of people don’t share the same social skills as others, whether it be the product of a difference in brain chemistry or lack of emotional range, and that there absolutely isn’t a problem with someone feigning certain emotions as long as their intentions are pure. But although Eri doesn’t necessarily have any solid proof against Midoriya, she knows that his aren’t. It’s in his voice, in his posture, in the way that his smiles never reach his eyes. Maybe he can fool most people, but people who know him, really know him, must be able to see the difference. Unless, like Izumi, they don’t want to.

Because it hasn't always been that way. She has memories from a very, very long time ago of a Midoriya who really cared. Who meant it when he asked after her health, or complimented her drawings, or told her that she would make a wonderful hero. Now, the only compliments he genuinely means are the ones he gives her quirk. Sometimes, speaking with him feels like speaking with a ghost. She knows all too well what it means to be haunted.

"Sure, I guess I could do that." Izumi rubs the back of his neck. "If you're absolutely certain he wouldn't mind me being there."

"One hundred percent. And afterwards, we can go watch a movie or something. I'll pay."

Izumi crosses his arms. "No you’re not. But, yeah, a movie does sound nice, if I'm buying your ticket."

"Okay, if you insist," Eri concedes, offering a hand to her friend. Begrudgingly, he takes it. “Now let’s get this over with so we can eat some popcorn.”

Midoriya greets them with a bright smile when they enter his office, though Eri doesn’t fail to note the way his eyes narrow, ever so slightly, as they graze Izumi. Years spent waiting for the other shoe to drop have poised her to watch for such minute differences in expression, telltale signs of dissatisfaction, which in her case, had often served as the prelude to violence. She's safe now, of course, but some habits never quite leave a person.

"Hello, Eri. I wasn't expecting you to bring Kota with you, but I'm glad you did." He turns to address Kota, eyes alight with the radiance that doubtlessly did their part in earning him his spot on the Billboard Charts. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

"Really?" Izumi rushes to reply. He realizes the overt enthusiasm of the response a second too late, overcorrecting with an exaggerated frown. "Uh, what about?"

"I know that you've probably been a bit confused as to why Eri received an internship offer from me when you didn't, but I'd like you to know that the decision wasn't made based on assessments of your ability or character."

Eri notes the way Midoriya blinks twice during his pauses. That's his tell. He's lying.

"I've been especially busy lately with work from the Hero Commission, and as such, haven't had much time to spend working with trainees."

That's a truth, no double blinks there.

"My manager was supposed to handle the internship process, and knowing this, decided to restrict my options to one recruit."

Another falsehood. He isn't avoiding eye contact though. If she didn't know him well, she's not sure she would've been able to discern between fact and fiction.

"I'd told them to prioritize you two, so they accepted the first application of yours they received. It happened to be Eri's. I'm sorry if it inconvenienced you any, I really did want to work with both of you."

Eri doesn’t even have to check to see if that one's true. She'd intentionally turned in her application a day late in hopes of avoiding this very outcome.

"Oh, right." Izumi attempts to hide his beaming grin by tilting his head. "Of course. Don't worry about it. I knew there must've been a good reason for it anyways."

"Glad to hear it." A lie. "I was worried that you'd taken it the wrong way. I almost called you to clear things up more than once, but I kept getting pulled away by work." Dishonesty. "Knowing that you understand really takes a burden off my mind." Untrue.

"So, are you planning on making it up to him?" Eri prompts. "I heard that your PR department is planning a new line of merch. I bet Kota would appreciate some early access."

"Eri!" Izumi turns on her, obviously embarrassed. "Don't try to guilt Izuku, he-"

"Thinks it's a great idea," Midoriya interrupts. "Assuming you're interested, that is. I'm sure that giving away one figure for free isn't going to hurt anyone."

"Really?" Izumi’s eyes light up. "Uh, I mean sure. If you're cool with it, I guess."

"Certainly. The PR department is on the next floor up if you're interested in looking at the prototypes, they should be in room 530. "

Izumi’s gaze alternates, for a moment, between the door and Eri before she grants him an approving nod. She doesn't want him to leave, but he obviously needs a bit of a pick-me-up. "Yeah, I think I'll go check that out. I'll be right back."

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Eri asks in Izumi’s wake, taking a seat on one of the office's armchairs. "Am I just going to be working with sidekicks again next week?"

"No, for once, that actually isn't the case." Midoriya's eyes take on the cold, analytical glare he tends to reserve for the examination of quirks and reaction to especially stressful situations. He usually makes an effort to hide it from her, at least when he's aware of it, but now, he doesn't even turn away. Whatever is bothering him must be serious. "Do you remember Shinso Hitoshi?"

Eri's posture stiffens. Of course she does. He'd been a student of Aizawa’s too, during the same time as Midoriya, and he'd babysat her, from time to time, only when Togata and Midoriya weren't free. He'd been pivotal to triggering the change in Midoriya, and she doesn't think she'll ever be able to forgive him for that. Especially not considering the method through which the change was ushered. She hadn't known any of the victims all that well, but she'd known enough about death to figure out what had happened, even when all the adults in her life refused to tell her.

"Yes." She hugs her arms to her chest. "I remember him."

"I wanted to warn you in advance that I received a report regarding his escape from custody earlier today. I have reason to believe that he may plan to target you in the near future, so I'd like you to behave cautiously until he's been recaptured."

A shiver of fear rockets down her spine. "What, you mean you think he's going to come after me? Why?"

"It has to do with your quirk." Of course it does. Everything comes back to Eri's quirk eventually, doesn't it? "But I'm not really at leisure to disclose any specifics at this point in time. The main takeaway here is that you shouldn't leave the Yuuei grounds unless it's absolutely mandatory. Next week, you'll be sticking with me as a precautionary measure, and I'll be escorting you and Kota back myself this evening. I'd wanted to pick you up from school today as well, but I'd been preoccupied with an unexpected villain attack."

Midoriya isn't lying, Eri can tell that much, though he's definitely hiding something from her. That doesn’t change the fact that she's grateful for the protection though. As much as Midoriya might disquiet her, she's absolutely terrified of Shinso.

"That sounds reasonable." She bites the inside of her mouth. "But can you give me any more information regarding his motives? I want to know why he's after me, if that's okay."

Midoriya shakes his head, wearing a mask of sympathy. "No, I'm sorry, but I can't, Commission's orders. I can promise you that you'll be safe though. There's absolutely no way I'm allowing you to be hurt."

"I understand, but still... why wait until after Kota's left to tell me?"

Midoriya sighs. "This information is very sensitive, and the hunch it begets is largely speculation on my part. I don’t want to worry Kota before I'm absolutely certain of the facts, and besides, I don’t want this spreading around Yuuei until it officially airs. I'm not technically supposed to be telling you as much as I am, but because it impacts you directly, I thought you'd want to be made aware. I know you can handle it, you've always been incredibly trustworthy."

Eri almost replies with a caustic and Kota isn't? before biting back the words. She knows that he's trying to flatter her; he does it to practically everyone he expects to be useful to him at some point or another. A lot of people don’t pick up on it though. "Thank you for the consideration."

Midoriya's eyebrow raises, just slightly. He's noticed her suspicion. She hasn't been careful enough.

"It's no problem." Midoriya smiles, and Eri tries to take the gesture at face value. It's more difficult than she'd like it to be. "Hm. Kota's about to return. That means we should probably get ready to head out."

Eri hates it when he does that. Predicts what someone will do, or where they'll be, long before he should know. Quirks are the skill's primary source, she knows that, but it's also equal parts analysis. It's knowledge of the latter that makes her more uncomfortable.

When Kota rushes back in, holding a new action figure and wearing a brilliant grin, she simply sits and watches. She doesn't even bat an eyelash when he and Izuku begin discussing recent events in their lives, failing entirely to acknowledge the axe that's apparently poised over her head. Even as they depart the agency, she falls into line behind the two without a word.

Sometimes, it's very difficult having a quirk like her's.

Chapter Text

"I'm fine. Seriously. Don't worry about me." Midoriya smiled, though the gesture held no genuine warmth. Even as it dawned on his face, it felt like something more akin to a pantomime. An approximation of real emotion. He tried not to visibly shiver. "The others need your sympathy more than I do. Why not talk to them?"

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, mouth curling into a distrustful scowl. "Deku." There was purpose behind his voice then, but it wasn't scornful. Just horribly, dreadfully intense. Pointed. Precise. Midoriya couldn't help but flinch under its scrutiny. "What do you mean you're fine?"

The question wasn't spoken rhetorically. It was obvious that Bakugo wanted an answer. Midoriya wasn't quite sure how to respond. How many ways could his statement have been taken? He could only think of one.

"I mean that my feelings are personally manageable." He was referring to his feelings regarding the Yuuei Incident, of course. And he wasn't lying, not really. "I'm grateful for your offer of emotional support, but I don’t need it. I'm coping just fine."

Bakugo studied Midoriya’s face for a moment. In the solitude of the empty dorm hallway, his gaze felt as piercing as a blade, its edge focused entirely on Midoriya and Midoriya alone.

In the quiet of the moment, Midoriya's thoughts couldn't help but shift to Explosion, the way it called to him from beneath Bakugo’s skin. He wanted it then, just as he had as a child, but he was learning restraint. He didn't reach out for it, or try to draw it in, or even move to analyze it. 

He was stronger than his quirk, that was the mantra he'd begun to recite to himself, not just when he spoke to Bakugo, but when he encountered anyone with a useful ability. He was learning to ignore the more basic quirks entirely, the ones that didn't automatically trigger an instinctual response. 

It wasn't difficult to occupy the same space as people like Aoyama, Hagakure, and Mineta, but those with more unique and versatile quirks, like Bakugo, Yaoyorozu, and Tokoyami, were still something of a challenge. His medication helped, but not nearly as much as he'd like it to.

It hadn’t driven away the deep, unending emptiness that rested on his chest like a deadweight, bearing down on his heart to serve as the barricade between the things he wanted to feel, and the things he could. It hadn’t stopped him from thinking of others only in terms of their quirks, to the point where he often forgot their names, their personalities, their identities. It hadn’t stopped him from blindly desiring quirks to such a degree that he'd risk his classmates' safety just to obtain them.

He was back in school, after all. And the worst part was that he didn't feel guilty for caving. Not one bit.

"The fuck is wrong with you?"

The words, spoken with the heat of something between a righteous fury and a petty accusation, pulled Midoriya from his thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

Bakugo drew back as if slapped. Something in his eyes read as horribly betrayed, but Izuku couldn't imagine why. His question had been reasonable, hadn't it? If anything, Bakugo was the one being rude, not him.

"You saw four of your friends die ." He enunciated, fists clenched tightly at his sides. "Four people you would have risked your life to protect. That you have risked your life to protect in the past. Someone we had classes with, trained with… someone we trusted killed them. And somehow, after two weeks spent in police custody, you come back completely unfazed."

Bakugo’s voice was shaking with an emotion Midoriya had never heard from him before. It was similar to anger, certainly, but there was something else there too. Fear, or maybe sorrow? It was difficult for Midoriya to pinpoint, especially when analyzed against the ever droning background noise that was Explosion.

"You look at the back of Jiro's empty desk every single fucking day and somehow you act like nothing happened." It wasn't just Bakugo’s tone that threw him off there, but his choice of words as well. He'd used Jiro's name. Her real one. "You act like everything's fine. Like we're all still here. I caught you staring at Yaoyorozu when she broke down in class yesterday. Usually when other people cry, you cry too. You always have, ever since I met you in yochien. You're empathetic, sometimes a bit too much for your own good, but people have always appreciated it, because it's genuine. It's you ."

His eyes narrowed. "But you didn't cry then, not a single tear. You didn't even frown. You looked confused. Like you didn't know why she was acting that way. Like you didn't understand it. And it was fucking terrifying . Do you even care that they're gone?"

Midoriya blinked. Of course he cared. The world had lost four quirks that day, and exemplary ones at that. Mutation quirks as cut and dry as Frog were rare, electricity-based quirks that allowed aoe discharge held unparalleled field usage, Earphone Jack allowed for near perfect reconnaissance, and Half-Cold Half-Hot… well, that quirk had really been one in a million, especially considering recent efforts to crack down on quirk marriage. Yes, their loss was certainly something to mourn.

No.

No, he cared because they were his friends. Their names were Tsuyu, Kaminari, Jiro, and Todoroki, not Frog, Electrification, Earphone Jack, and Half-Cold Half-Hot. He was mourning people, not quirks. He'd attended class with them, ate with them, trained with them, laughed with them, cried with them…

He cared about them . Or, at least, he knew he was supposed to.

And Shinso… no, he couldn't think about Shinso. Shinso, who made his head spin. Shinso, who contradicted everything he was supposed to believe. Shinso, who had to be a monster because Midoriya didn't want to be one.

Even if he was starting to think it was unavoidable.

"I care." Midoriya tried to cry, more to prove to himself that he still could than anything else. He needed to know that his words were true. That he wasn't just fooling himself. He did care about his friends. He had to. "I just…"

No tears came. Not a single one.

"I just…" He took one step back. Then another. His voice hadn't even broken. "I just… I… just have to go."

Without another word, he turned away from Bakugo before making a beeline for the dorm building's exit. He needed air.

He didn't slow until he'd rounded the side of the building, slumping down against a windowless portion of its exterior wall. He took stock of his quirks, counting first the ones he'd received during his Awakening, then the two he'd been given by the Hero Public Safety Commission, Total Failure and Anterograde. 

Both were excellent quirks, and he would know. He'd chosen them himself, from a pool of recent villain arrests, specifically repeat offenders. And taking them had been fine. Ethical, even. Everyone he'd introduced the issue to had agreed.

If a villain intended to use their quirk to hurt others, even after being offered opportunities for reform, then they didn't deserve to have it in the first place. Quirks were weapons, and just like guns, and bombs, and knives, they needed to be controlled. Midoriya was making the world safer. There wasn't any moral dilemma with taking villains' quirks, the only reason no one had done it before was because they hadn’t had the ability to.

He knew how to use quirks correctly, after all. He was a hero. And he was going to make sure that every quirk he was given was put to good use.

Midoriya activated Anterograde, though he didn't have a subject to direct it at. He wanted to feel it coursing over the surface of his skin, the familiar assurance and power granted by the presence of an emitter quirk. It was stronger than it had been before he'd taken it, its efficacy increased by the influence of One For All, and he couldn’t help but revel in the feel of it.

He'd chosen it as well as its sibling quirk for a particular purpose, one he'd told himself was merely precautionary. If he could get a handle on his quirk and its emotional impact in the next week, then he'd never need to use them for their intended purpose. When he was with the Commission, it seemed to be an easily attainable goal.

Everything felt right, his quirk, the way it interacted with his mind, the stories he'd been told, and the fact that he was recovering, perhaps a bit too rapidly, from the events they detailed. His therapist had told him he was making unprecedented progress after all, that the way he was bouncing back was a good thing. There was absolutely nothing wrong with how he felt, it was natural. Healthy, even. He was still him, and any changes he perceived were in his head. The result of a defensive reaction to trauma.

But once he'd returned to Yuuei, things had started to feel… wrong. Contradictory. Because no matter how much he'd been told he was the same, everyone around him had treated him differently. Almost as though his presence made them uncomfortable. And he hadn't even realized how odd his speedy recovery had been until Bakugo had confronted him directly regarding his behavior just moments before.

He had always been attuned to others' emotions in the past, and to some degree, he supposed he still was. When he set aside his own desire for quirks and worked through people's reasoning, it was easy to track their motivations, to rationalize his way through what had brought them to act as they had. But there was a distance there now that hadn't existed before, a gulf between empathy and sympathy that he couldn't naturally breach.

Midoriya understood people's emotions, certainly, but it was an active process, and it took effort to complete. He couldn't rely on intuitive emotional intelligence anymore, at least if the past two days were anything to go off of. The experience felt alienating, even if it wasn't necessarily a change for the worse, and he couldn't help but find it concerning.

In those moments, when his newfound difficulties came to light, he had to admit that maybe things were more dire than they felt. That he really did need help, help outside of what the HPSC could offer.

But the plan he'd formed using his two new quirks was a hail Mary, a worst case-scenario failsafe, a backup. He had plenty of others to try first. All Might was a resource he had yet to take advantage of, as were the vestiges. But confronting either seemed daunting. Terribly so.

All Might wasn't yet aware of Midoriya's new quirks. The two hadn't even spoken following his return to Yuuei two days ago, though All Might had tried to contact him repeatedly in the meantime. The secret Midoriya bore was too important to be kept from All Might, that much was becoming increasingly obvious, but that didn’t make the prospect of telling him any less intimidating.

He needed help, of course he did, but what if All Might suggested he return the quirks he'd received, or worse, transfer One For All on to a more suitable holder?

And he would, wouldn't he, once he knew who Midoriya was, the things he’d done? Or even worse, the things he might’ve done. Heroes didn't steal, and heroes definitely didn't kill.

Midoriya couldn't lose One For All. It was his quirk, the most important one in his arsenal, and he needed it. All Might couldn't make him give it up, not in a moral sense or a literal one.

No .

Midoriya shook his head, attempting to clear away the thought. A good hero would give up their quirk if they were unsuitable. A good hero would work through their emotional issues to preserve their performance in the field. A good hero wouldn't hide vital information from those they relied on. Those they trusted.

Before he could second guess himself, Midoriya drew his phone from his pocket, opening up his conversation history with All Might. He typed out a simple text. We need to talk. He took a long, deep breath in, then out. He hit send.

And that was that. Midoriya was going to talk to All Might, and he was going to tell him everything. His parentage, his new quirks, his partnership with the Commission, what he’d been so convinced occurred that night, despite everyone’s insistence to the contrary… and All Might would understand. He had to.

Midoriya wouldn't need to talk to the vestiges, and he certainly wouldn’t need to visit… he wouldn't need to visit anyone. He would figure things out with All Might, and then he'd be okay. All Might would let Midoriya keep One For All. Of course he would. And if he wouldn’t, well… no. There was no use in considering that possibility.

Everything would be okay.

Chapter Text

Shinso turns the revolver over in his hands, eyes trained selectively on its trigger. He’s never used a gun before, and the prospect of starting now is intimidating, to say the least, especially considering that his new partner in crime is a firearms expert. He can only imagine the snark he’ll be met with upon his first failed shot and the laughter that will doubtlessly accompany it. 

Nagant is hardly one to withhold her opinion, even in the case that it might spare someone’s feelings to do so. She isn’t cruel, Shinso has learned that much by now, but she’s blunt, and she absolutely abhors lies. He can’t help but wonder if she used to be different, prior to her incarceration. 

Upon performing a background check using a briefly borrowed laptop, he’s learned that she’d been a hero, and a successful one at that, before entering an altercation with a coworker somewhere around eleven years ago. He’d never heard of her previously, but then again, he’d never been especially fond of the celebrity status so many heroes seemed to accrue, often to the point where he actively avoided their media presences back when he had the privilege of choice. 

Heroes were supposed to be law enforcers, not influencers, and he'd never felt particularly inclined to encourage those who worked to breach the distance. It's odd to imagine Nagant as one though, especially considering how prickly she tends to be.

Even more intriguing than her past as a hero is her former employer. Apparently, she’d been directly recruited by the Hero Public Safety Commission, an achievement that spoke to her merit as a hero, if nothing else. Shinso can’t help but wonder what they did to her, to make her loathe them as much as she does.

He can feel her watching him now, out of the corner of her eyes, as she drives, fingers tapping in tune to the song blaring over the car speakers. When he risks a glance, her gaze darts away, focusing once more on the road.

Shinso expects that to be the end of the exchange, but then, Nagant surprises him by speaking. “Was it difficult?”

One of Shinso’s fingers finds its way onto the barrel of the revolver, and he rotates it lazily back and forth with a fingernail. “Robbing the police station?”

“I don’t know what else I’d be referring to.”

Shinso rolls his eyes, sending the barrel spinning with a quick swipe. “It was easy. Almost too easy, if I’m being honest. I walked in, told them to give me a gun and a few cases of ammo, supervised while they wiped the security footage, and left. My quirk doesn’t leave much room for resistance.”

“Sounds about right.” Nagant tilts her head, sending tendrils of polychromatic hair sliding down the side of her shoulder. “Your quirk is ridiculously formidable. As long as we have it, we hardly need anything else. No one can overpower you, not while they’re within your line of vision, and you’ll never need to fight your own battles, not in a physical sense. Which begs a question. Why did we take the time to steal a revolver in the first place?”

Shinso sighs, shoulders drooping. He’s been dreading this question since he ordered Nagant to drive them to the station somewhere around an hour ago, all excitement over the pair’s successful department store heist overshadowed by his fear of future questioning. Well, maybe not all excitement. Shinso does love his new coat, and it was definitely more expensive than anything he would’ve been able to wear in the past; his parents have always been religiously economical.

His parents, who probably still think he's a murder. Another topic he’d rather never dwell on, if given the choice.

Shinso considers ordering Nagant to stop asking questions. That strategy had worked the first time, perhaps a bit too well, and he knows it will be easier that way. She doesn’t really need to have any agency here, he knows what he’s doing, and if he gives her a say, then he’ll be giving up control. 

She isn’t as capable as he is, no one is, and when he gives people a chance to disappoint him, they always do. If he’d been able to control the Commission, or Kaminari, or even better, Midoriya, then none of this would’ve happened in the first place. People are better when they don’t ask questions, when they shut up and listen, and it isn’t like he ever asked for a partner. He’d wanted a tool, and he still has the power to make one.

His nail catches in a crevice of the gun’s barrel, and the brief pain is enough to snap his thoughts back into focus. He tries not to let the brief lapse in judgment unsettle him too much. The quirk suppressors he needs are so close now. He might not be able to reverse whatever is happening to him permanently, but he can at least prevent it from progressing any further.

“You know how we’re heading to the pharmacy now?” Shinso asks. “Well, there’s a reason for that.”

Nagant raises an eyebrow. “Right. And I assumed it was your arm.”

“Ha.” Shinso laughs, but the sound is completely devoid of any real amusement. “I wish that were it, but unfortunately, we have much bigger things to worry about for the time being, and you’re really not going to like their implications.”

“I’m not?” One side of Nagant’s mouth quirks downard. She looks concerned, and Shinso can imagine why. He’s her only chance at taking down the Commission, not to mention her room and board. “Well, fine then, rip the bandaid off. Where’s the bullet lodged?”

“I’m not injured,” Shinso assures, loosing an exasperated sigh. “I’d have to be an idiot to try and hide a gun wound from a professional shooter.”

“Okay then, what’s wrong with you?” Nagant studies him in the pause allowed to her by a stoplight, eyes filled with deliberate suspicion. “ Please don’t tell me you have a drug addiction. I know students at schools of Yuuei’s academic caliber sometimes turn to adderall abuse, but I’d really hoped you were smarter than that.”

“I’m- I’m not addicted to adderall!” He objects, voice infused with intense indignation. “I don’t need performance enhancers, especially not academic ones! But-” he freezes mid thought. “How did you know I attended Yuuei?”

Nagants eyes flick back to the road. “You thought I couldn’t access the internet just because I can’t force someone to lend me their laptop? The hotel we were staying at had a business center.”

“So you ran a background check on me?”

“That’s a bold accusation, considering you ran one on me first. That map excuse was hardly convincing, you know. I can tell you’re from Musutafu, or at least the general area. When we drove to the department store today, you didn’t think twice about the directions you gave me.” She sighs. “Look Kid, I’m not angry with you; I understand the desire for secrecy. But we need to trust each other here, this isn’t going to work otherwise.”

Shinso can’t do anything but stare down at the gun in his lap, fingers wrapped in a white-knuckled grip around its handle. “What you read isn’t true.”

“I didn’t think it was.” Nagant reaches one cautious hand over to silence the stereo, eyes still fixated on the road. “That’s why I’m still here. You said you were framed, and you seem emotionally stable enough that I’m willing to believe you. But you’re going to have to give me an explanation if you want this partnership to continue. Does that sound fair?”

Shinso tries to swallow, but his throat is positively arid. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds fair. You worked with the Commission, right?”

She nods, the gesture slow and deliberate. He can tell she’s alert based on the rigidity of her posture, just as aware of the pistol in his lap as he is. Which is ridiculous. If he wanted her dead, he wouldn’t have to use a gun.

“Okay, well, did they ever mention Quirk Awakening?”

Nagant’s grip on the steering wheel visibly tightens. “So, you’re an AKQ, huh? I did have my suspicions, but it’s always hard to be sure without a witness.”

Shinso blinks. “You’re familiar?”

“Oh, I’m more than familiar. Tell me Kid, how do you think you’d go about killing someone with an amplified quirk, specifically if that quirk enhanced their combat capabilities? Would you approach them directly?”

“No.” A very important realization dawns on Shinso. “I’d try to eliminate them before they noticed me, preferably from a distance. In a case like mine, I think that’s really the only chance you’d have, at least without an erasure quirk.” He steals a glance at Nagant’s weaponized arm. “You killed people like me, didn’t you? For the Hero Public Safety Commission?”

“Yeah.” Nagant’s lips press taut, eyes narrowing into perturbed slits. “Among others. But it wasn’t always all blood and gore. I found a kid once, back when I was in my twenties. I’d encountered other AKQ children before, but… well, let's just say that this particular case was a little too real to me, for more reasons than one. The Commission had an utterly inflexible policy regarding Quirk Awakening victims, kill first and don't ask questions later. I defied them. That kid is still alive now, if you believe it. I made sure he would be."

"Okay." Shinso raises an eyebrow. "And why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Nagant begins, her tone as even as a knife blade. "I want you to know that you can trust me. I don't think you're a monster, Shinso, and I don't doubt you when you say you've been framed. The Commission will do anything to maintain their image of the perfect society, and they don't care who they have to sacrifice to do it. I bought into their rhetoric for far too long, and I'm done denying people second chances. I'm not going to try to hurt you, not based on what I know of AKQ individuals or your past record."

"You couldn't if you tried, but I appreciate the sentiment regardless." Shinso allows his grip on the revolver to relax, rolling the tense muscles in his shoulders as much as the constraints of his seatbelt will allow. "I'm not going to hurt you either, for what it's worth."

That earns him a strained laugh. Nagant still hasn't let her guard down, at least not entirely. So much for mutual trust. "I'm a quicker draw than you think. I'd probably at least force you to try. But now that you know my sob story, I think it's time you told yours. What really happened that night?"

Shinso grits his teeth, trying his best not to visibly cringe. He'd hoped to avoid this discussion altogether. What happened all those years ago feels poignantly personal in a manner altogether too vulnerable to share, even more so now that Japan at large has been given access to a decontexualized and distastefully censored version of its events. 

There are some details he'd much rather keep from the world in its entirety, to selfishly hold to his chest despite the absolution their dissemination would grant him. He's owed that much, isn't he? In a world where all of his rights have been mercilessly stripped away, even, to some degree, his right to unaltered thought, he wants to believe that at least some form of control is accessible to him, no matter how insignificant. If anything is still his and his alone, it's a right to the truth.

But he needs Nagant, and even more importantly, if he intends to remain independent from his quirk in any significant capacity, he needs Nagant's trust.

"You're going to think this sounds so horrendously moronic, but remember that guy we saw on the news last night?"

"You mean the number one hero?"

"Yep. We both tried to activate quirk awakening. Deliberately. He went first, a few days before me, and in the aftermath of my attempt, he lost it." Shinso speaks fast, his sentences clipped. He needs to tell the story quickly, or he knows he won't tell it at all. "He killed the four students you saw mentioned in the headlines, but because my quirk was less useful to them, the HPSC decided to use me as a scapegoat. Guess they needed a new recruit. "

"Well," Nagant breathes. "That explains quite a bit. I knew those stats weren't realistic. But… even for an AKQ, they still seem inflated. And you say this kid has a more useful quirk than you? I fail to see how that's possible."

"Oh, it's possible alright." Shinso shoots her a bitter smirk. "He makes what I can do look like a party trick."

"Well, don't leave me in suspense then. What are we up against?"

Shinso leans back against his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He tries not to let any vitriol creep into his voice, more because he feels the emotion would make him appear petty than anything else.

"He can steal quirks. Indefinitely. And give them away too, though he didn't really seem too keen on that half of the ability, at least not past a certain point. He already had an impressive strength quirk to begin with, and something to do with eldritch vines, I think? It really wasn't like he needed a third quirk, especially not one of that caliber, but I suppose the proof is in the numbers. Who knows how many he has now. He's unstoppable."

Nagant's eyes widen in surprise for a moment before narrowing in obvious contemplation. "Stealing quirks, huh? That reminds me of a target I investigated back in my Commission days. Probably one of the nastiest villains I've ever had the displeasure of being assigned, and elusive too. I never did catch him."

"Really?" Shinso presses, resting his head on a propped elbow. He tries to keep his voice nonchalant, but it's difficult when he recalls his former friend's absent father. It's unlikely that there's any connection, he knows that, but based on what Midoriya had recalled, the man had been fairly cagey. Perhaps a bit too cagey for an average salaryman. "How much do you know about his quirk? Did it express itself physically? Something to do with circular cavities in the palms?"

A palpable pause fills the car, but only for a moment. Shinso obviously struck a chord.

"That's… oddly specific. Especially considering that it's spot on." She turns into the pharmacy parking lot, stealing curious glances at Shinso's face all the while. He tries not to give her the satisfaction of a visible reaction. "Let me guess. Our new number one hero is related to a villain?"

"Uh." Shiso nods reluctantly. "Yeah. It would seem so. Which is odd, certainly, but… there's not really much we can do with the information, is there?"

"No," Nagant agrees, pulling into a parking spot. "But it does help explain why the Commission dumped you so quickly. All For One was definitely one of the biggest thorns in their side, and a child suddenly awakening a quirk just like his on top of two others… if they could control that kind of power, ensure that it worked with them instead of against them… well, they'd certainly jump at the chance."

"You don't think they suspected the two were working together?"

"The HPSC is an extension of the Japanese government. It's likely that they have the kid's past records available down to individual doctor's visits. I'd be willing to bet they took a gamble on his innocence based on something they observed, then monitored him for suspicious behavior as soon as they'd gotten him in custody. If it turned out he was a villain, they could’ve used him as a bargaining chip, and if not, well… obviously that’s the reality we’re living in. They must not have noticed anything off during his observation period."

Shinso slips the revolver into the car's glove compartment. If anything goes wrong, he'd really rather not be charged with armed robbery on top of his already daunting criminal record. 

"His dad left directly following his childhood quirkless diagnosis. Based on the way quirk awakening behaves, I'm sure the HPSC deduced that this All For One guy was Deku's father, and considering the timing of his departure…"

"The two weren't close," Nagant supplies. "The kid was probably born specifically to inherit his quirk, or maybe an altered version of it depending on the mother's quirk. After his hopes went up in smoke, he had no reason to stick around. That's what I'd guess."

"And you'd be right, at least to the best of my knowledge. I'm sure the HPSC drew the same conclusions, and to positive results. Deku does hate his dad, and he's always been single-mindedly dedicated to heroics, so I doubt there was ever any chance of his recruitment resulting in subterfuge or sabotage."

"Hm. I suppose that's for the best. Japan probably couldn't handle two quirk thieves running amok in its criminal underground." Nagant dials the stereo back to its former volume before gesturing to the pharmacy through the car's windshield. "Go get your quirk suppressors, I don't want you engaging in any more subconscious brainwashing. Be careful though. People are definitely looking for us."

Shinso exits the car without another word, pulling up the hood of his jacket before approaching the pharmacy's automatic doors. His disguise is hardly full proof, especially considering it consists solely of aviators and a face mask, but he supposes it's better than nothing. Besides, even if someone does catch sight of him, he can always resort to using his quirk.

He hates how much he's come to rely on it, but he can hardly disqualify the flawless catchall solution it serves as, especially considering that it's so easily accessible. It's a bit more justifiable when he considers the time constraints he's under. No matter how practical it is, once Shinso receives the quirk suppressors, he won't allow himself to use it again. With a few notable exceptions, of course.

That was what he'd meant when he'd insinuated Nagant would be upset to learn the motivating factor driving his pharmacy trip. Brainwash is their biggest asset by far, and although he plans to use it while engaging the HPSC, its absence up to that point won't be easy to deal with by any means, not when one suspicious passerby with a cellphone is enough to summon several pro heroes to their location. If there were any available alternative, he would certainly take it, but unfortunately, he isn't willing to lose his sanity in quite the same way he's willing to lose his life.

Maybe it has something to do with the childhood ostracization he endured. It's hard to say. He's no psychologist.

On his way to the pharmaceuticals counter, he passes a number of aisles, each boasting a variety of goods completely unrelated to medication. He browses them as he passes, his gait slow and casual. Until something catches his eye, that is.

On the first visible shelf of the craft isle sits tube upon tube of brightly colored glitter, shining in all their tacky, nonbiodegradable glory under the cheap fluorescent overheads. He recalls Midoriya, eyes dancing with a dark light as they peered over the screen of his laptop. Aizawa, disheveled and exhausted, arriving at class ten minutes too late. The agreement he'd made.

But most importantly, he remembers Eri. In that moment, he realizes something very relevant to his current predicament.

"Excuse me?"

The woman's voice startles Shinso from his epiphany. He needs to move. He's blocking the craft aisle.

"Sorry," he mutters, stepping aside. He doesn't receive a second glance as the woman bustles by, trajectory set for the safety scissor shelf. 

Shinso doesn’t give her the opportunity for another look, turning to head, this time more conspicuously, for the pharmaceutical counter. He needs quirk suppressors.

But if he plays his cards right, he might not need them much longer.