Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sunny days had always been off-putting for Ayame.

The cloudless blue skies, the bright ball of gas shining harshly in their face, the incessant chirping of early-rising birds. The seemingly “peaceful” and “transcendent” atmosphere that emerged from fairytales and movies that painted sunny days as this beautiful phenomenon that should be revered and praised like no other. For the nineteen year-old, sunny days like this were bound to be complete and utter flaming shit. Just like their asshole of a father. Well, at least his breath was, but that was probably, mostly due to his quirk.

The teen smiles at the thought of their father when they realized this would be the last time they’d have to put up with his shit. Their mom had finally saved up enough money for a bigger place back home, so Ayame could see the younger brother they’d been forcefully separated from all those years ago. They wonder how tall little Zuzu had gotten since they’d last seen him.

He’s almost ten, so the kid’s gotta be huge.

They smile sadly at the thought. The two had been joined at the hip before that fuckface cheated on their mom with some random whores, but that was eight years ago. Little Zuzu probably doesn’t even remember their times together.

Checking their watch, then checking again and swearing under their breath when they realized they’d spent the last thirty minutes wasting time reminiscing, when they had a flight to catch in an hour. Their dad was still passed out on the old couch in their front room, so luckily there’d be no drunken arguing about the white-haired teen leaving for good. Well, there wouldn’t be any arguing regardless, but still, the thought of it made the teen want to kill someone.

Smiling smugly after having dressed in sweats for the flight and packed the rest of their shit—which wasn’t a lot—Ayame grabs a pair of metal chopsticks from their father’s dinner the night before, slapping the man out of his deep slumber. He wakes up, slowly but surely readying his vocal cords for a shout of “Get the fuck outta my face bitch!” but he doesn’t even get the first syllable out. The teen jabs into those useless things with their chopsticks, slowly but surely filling the man’s throat with his own tainted blood. Pudgy, filthy hands grasp the teen’s own, clawing at the unmoving appendages, attempting to stanch the life flowing freely from a neck filled with sin and pain. Muted green eyes watch as the thing below them wriggles like the bug it is, fighting for a life Midoriya had deemed long ago was one they would snuff out on their way out of this god forsaken city. He vomits once or twice, and that stain in the front of his sweats smells of piss and shit, permeating the never-clean air of the dingy apartment, but all the child can feel is pure, unadulterated joy. Their sperm donor struggles for a few more seconds, suffering etched into the wrinkles of his worn face along with his own disgusting bodily fluids, before the gurgling stops. The heartbeat finally stops inside the man’s chest, and Ayame closes their eyes, head tilted to the ceiling, and breathes a deep sigh of relief.

The streets of Yorknew seemed almost sad as the teen made their escape from the home they’d grown to hate, as if they were going to miss one of their long-time residents. Ayame’s smile never leaves their face, even though they knew they were going to miss the familiar atmosphere of the city. No one questions the blood-stained hands, nor the chopsticks coated in the same substance wrapped up in snowy white curls.

A thought crossed the pale blonde’s mind, and they decided to text their favorite murderers a picture of them on the bus with the middle finger poised at Heaven’s Arena. They knew the two were probably fooling around on the magician’s floor like they always did.

Finally going home. Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone!

Not even two seconds later a text came through to them from the assassin’s phone. It was a picture of the ravenette’s sleeping form, his strong muscles and pale skin accentuated by the curtain of silky black hair strewn across his back. The sheets pulled up to his shoulders were obviously rumpled, proving the young adult’s theory further, along with the prominent bite marks and bruises littering the exposed skin. Pale clawed fingers were wrapped around a needle that was pointed towards the camera, the threat clear as day even through the slightly blurred photo.

The text read: Illu darling says he hopes your plane crashes. You interrupted his peaceful sleep dear~ <3

Ayame laughs and shuts off their phone, sighing softly and relaxing into their seat. Fine, maybe they’ll miss more than the scenery.

What. The. FUCK!

Ayame groans in frustration when they see their plane had departed early, meaning the teen had missed their flight home and had to wait another two hours for the next one.

Mom’s gonna be so pissed. What if she leaves because I didn’t show up on time? Am I gonna have to live on the streets? Will I have to sell myself for money? I knew I should’ve taken that stupid magician’s offer. Illu’s gonna kill me. I told them I was leaving I can’t go back now. GodsIreallycan’tdothis—

A ping from the teen’s phone interrupts their building spiral, and green eyes focus down at their screen in quiet disdain. A text from their mother’s number eased their nerves slightly, a picture of a-not-so-little Zuzu curled up with the—now worn and shrunken—All Might blanket Ayame had sent for his eighth birthday and their mom smiling with a thumbs up. The text following read “He hasn’t let go of it all week. He’s so excited to see his big sis!”

Ayame smiles softly and sends an “I’m excited to see you guys too! <3” back, exhaling softly and running a hand through their short wavy hair. The sun was setting behind the horizon line, casting a soft golden glow against their tanned skin. Pocketing their phone and choosing instead to fiddle with their rings, Ayame tried to think about what it would be like when they went home.

Having to go back to school would be tiresome for the recently-graduated teen, but their biggest concern was being subjected to the “prestigious” Yuuei schooling system. It’d be like working for the Zoldycks all over again.

Their dad, however washed up he was now, had been a big-time hero in Japan for a while before Zuzu was born. Because of this, and his long-time service to Japan’s Hero Commission—plus a bit of bribery with money he’d won gambling—the idiot was able to get his eldest an internship with one of the heroes that taught at the school. The only catches were that they’d have to attend classes regularly as a TA and retake the hero license exam.

They knew little Zuzu dreamed of becoming a hero, and Ayame couldn’t let him do it alone, and definitely wouldn’t. All little Zuzu could ever talk about was being a hero on their monthly calls together, and Ayame could hear how much becoming one meant to him. The kid had such a huge heart, and he was already so damn smart it would be a crime in Ayame’s eyes if they didn’t let their little brother in, with or without a stupid fucking quirk.

The platinum blonde sighs and pulls out their notebook, sketching some of the people that sit near their area or even just pass by. One particular interesting-looking girl made recurring appearances in the young adult’s notebook. They couldn’t help it! Her facial structure was captivating, with adorable little fangs peeking out from her slightly parted pink lips, dimples present on both dark cheeks, and a birthmark in the shape of a heart covered her three left eyes. She looked to have some sort of mutant quirk, and judging by the fangs, six eyes, and lithe pianist fingers, Ayame guessed the mutation was probably a spider of some sort.

The girl was immersed in a book in her lap, tuning out the world and engulfing herself in her own between the pages of The Song of Achilles. Ayame watches silently as the girl continues to read, entrapped by her silent yet striking beauty. They blush softly at the thought and continued sketching in their book, trying hard not to be caught glancing at the girl with long, curly dark hair.

Not now gay thoughts!

Unknowingly, Ayame had started to sketch the mystery girl her very own hero suit, a habit they had come to develop over the years of listening to little Zuzu ramble on and on about the different heroes he’d encountered and studied in Japan. The two siblings would often cross reference the information they’d gained about certain hero’s they thought were interesting, although the platinum blonde had to admit that the heroes in Japan sounded much more interesting then the not-so ones in Yorknew. Well, besides that one red-eyed kid working under that billionaire. And maybe Illu’s kid brother and his friend, but they didn’t really count. Heroes and Hunters were very different, but Zuzu didn’t need to be exposed to that world quite yet.

An hour went by like this until it was finally time to board the plane. Ayame gets up and stretches groggily, grabbing their things and shuffling towards the boarding zone. They had pulled their wolf-cut waves into a small ponytail atop their head when the strands fell into their face too much while sketching.

Two green eyes scan the area lazily until they meet with six red ones, and Ayame has to stop from screeching in surprise. The cute— The girl that was sitting across the walkway from the blonde was boarding the same plane as them. The young adult tries to contain their blush and smiles at the ravenette, waving a bit awkwardly in greeting.

Gray-ish skin flushes just slightly, and the ravenette smiles and waves back. Ayame blsuhes harder and turns quickly, trying not to spontaneously combust from the amount of cuteness the mystery girl radiated.

It also didn’t help that the girl was exactly Ayame’s type. Tall, dark hair, into historical fiction books, and—very importantly—goth. More specifically, and more tastefully in the platinum blonde’s opinion, a mix of hippie and alt goth.

The gray-skinned girl was dressed in a black cardigan, ripped black flared pants that had a silver chain attached to them, red and black platforms that made her even taller—which should be a crime against Ayame’s gay little heart—and a deep red corset top that made her ahem, assets, more noticeable. The silver necklaces and rings that decorated the girl tied the outfit together perfectly, and Ayame could feel their face grow even hotter.

Ayame shakes their head and makes their way onto the plane, scanning their ticket and making their way to their seat. The flight was supposed to be a straight twenty hours and the platinum blonde had pulled three all-nighters so they would sleep for at least half of the flight. The last of the coffee they’d been living off of was draining from their system fast, and Ayame could practically taste sleep on their tongue.

Shoving their duffle bag overhead and their backpack under the seat in front of them, Ayame places their headphones over their ears and curls up against the window, falling asleep instantly.

Approximately seventeen hours, fifty-nine minutes and forty seconds into the flight, Ayame is jolted awake by a sudden jerk of the plane, followed by a loud crash and a small resulting dent in the opposite side of the plane. Babies start to scream along with their parents and grandparents and flight attendants come flying down the rows to ensure everyone was following protocol. The plane shakes again, this time from turbulence most likely caused by a quirk, and Ayame sighs before leaning forward to put their head in their hands. The teen rips off their headphones and closes their fingers in their wavy hair.

First, the flight gets delayed, and now some hero IDIOTS can’t keep their goddamn fight on the ground.

“W-What a shitty day huh?”

Ayame raises their head and locks eyes with their seatmate, realizing it’s the spider-looking girl from half a day earlier. The ravenette looks scared shitless and was clutching the arms of the seat for dear life. Ayame grimaces inwardly at the girl’s attempt at small talk to distract herself.

The light-haired teen smiles and holds out their arm, “You can squeeze it as hard as you’d like if it’ll make you feel better.”

Gray-ish hands latch onto a surprisingly muscular arm, wrapping tightly around the offered appendage for comfort.

“I’m Ayame.”

Red eyes lock with green, and a sort-of smile revealed two sharp fangs hidden by dark, plump lips, “Mara.”

Ayame smiles back softly, mesmerized by the sight of the girl next to them. Although they were sitting, the teen could tell the girl was still shorter than them, even with the three-inch platforms the spider girl wore. It was adorable in it’s own way, just like the girl clutching to their arm.

As Ayame gets lost in thought, the plane steadies out again, yet the pressure on their arm does not ease up. The blonde chooses not to comment on it, and instead orders a water for the still slightly shaken girl. When it comes, the nineteen year old places the cup in front of their companion.

“Drink this, it’ll help a bit.”

“Thank you.”

The iron grip Mara had on their arm gets released, and Ayame tries not to make a face at the loss of warmth. Paled skin returns back to its dark gray color as the teen calms down. Ayame figured now was as good a time as any to get to know the girl more.

“So, why are you flying to Japan?”

Red eyes shift to look up at Ayame, and Mara smiles softly, “I’m going back home to finish school. I was only in Yorknew for the summer to visit some family. What about you?”

“I’m going home too.”

Mara laughs and jokes, “Maybe we’re neighbors.”

Ayame smiles, “If only the gods were so generous.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen. You?”

Grey cheeks flush lightly, and a nervous laugh passes through plump lips, “I’m only seventeen. I guess you’re already going to university then?”

“No actually. I’m interning at a school in my hometown.”

“Oh, well what school are you going to? Maybe we’ll see each other there.”

“I’ll be at Yuuei,” Ayame responds.

Mara’s eyes brighten and the girl looks to be vibrating with excitement, “Me too! I’m going to be a third year! This is so exciting, you’re my first international friend!”

The two spend the rest of the flight bonding over their shared experiences and common likes, inching closer and closer to home. If only Ayame had known what shocking truths would await them when they got there.

“BIG SIS! BIG SIS OVER HERE!!”

Ayame whilrs around just as a child-sized body crashes into them, knocking the teen onto their back and scattering their belongings. A mass of green, fluffy curls obscures the pale blonde’s vision, and for a second Ayame thinks they’re dreaming. It had been so long. They feel a wet spot growing on their Crimson Riot sweatshirt and pull back slightly, lifting their brother’s chubby face that was now tear-stained and snotty nosed.

He looked so much older now, and the small amount of freckles that used to be only around his nose had spread across little Zuzu’s cheeks and down the sides of his face. His wild green curls had gotten much longer since the two had last seen each other on a video call, and he even had a tiny scar under his lip. Their brother had grown up too fast without them.

The platinum blonde smiles wobbly and hugs their brother tight to their chest. “I missed you so much Izuku,” they whisper.

“I-I missed you t-too Aya!” A fresh supply of tears come gushing from the poor boy’s eyes.

Hurried clicking steps are be heard behind the two, and Ayame gets up with their brother in their arms before being tackled again by a slightly taller mass of green hair and freckles. Their mother was crying just as loudly as their brother, and the teen laughs wetly and wraps their arms around the woman.

Home.

Chapter Text

The last few days had been…hard for Ayame. Not because of prepping for school, or adjusting to this new and non-abusive home life, no. They’d been hard because the second they asked why Izuku didn’t seem to hang out with that Bakugou kid that much, a shadow of fear had passed across their little brother’s eyes before he’d stuttered out excuses like he “wanted to spend time with them” and “Kacchan was super busy”.

The explosion-and-hand-shaped welt Ayame had seen peeking out of their brother’s shirt had said otherwise.

Now, the teen knew that quirks were unpredictable when just manifesting, but they weren’t so uncontrollable that this kid couldn’t stop himself from burning someone in the middle of winter. There was no excess sweat to accumulate in fucking thirty degree weather.

So, as the good older sibling they were, Ayame had tried to ask about the welt casually. Nothing too overbearing, just a simple question of how Izuku had gotten it.

All they’d gotten in response was a half-assed excuse about some failed project in chemistry class before the break.

Instead of freaking out and going on a rampage, the elder decided it’d probably be better to ask the root of the problem. As it stands, the six-foot-two tall teen was currently in front of the Bakugou household, clad in slacks, black leather heeled boots, a white button down, and a pinstripe waistcoat with a dark gray trench coat to keep out the chill of the winter. The teen had an abundance of rings adorning their fingers and a single gold chain around their neck with matching diamond studs. The work they’d done for various clients in York New had brought in some good cash over the years.

Why, pray tell, was Ayame so dressed up you may ask? Because one, the Bakugou’s were fashion icons in Japan and they’d wanted to make somewhat of a good impression—especially since the teen used to have atrocious style the last time they’d been in Mustafu, given they were eleven years old—and of course they’d have to go to Yuuei after this small gathering to meet with their new boss.

Turning to look down at their kid brother who was visibly nervous, Ayame inwardly winces and holds out her hand to him for comfort. Izuku takes it easily and grips the tanned hand like his life depends on it. The only reason Ayame hadn’t come alone was because he’d begged to go see Yuuei with them afterwards, and there wasn’t going to be any time to go back home to get him before the meeting.

This is gonna be a shitshow.

Ayame puts on a small smile and walks up the stairs, knocking lightly and then stepping back a few steps. They rub Izuku’s hand softly to calm him and it seemed like it was working.

After about a minute of waiting, the dark oak door swings open to reveal a woman in about her thirties with spiky ashen hair and deep crimson eyes. The woman narrows her eyes at Ayame in suspicion before traveling down to Izuku and instantly brightening.

“Hey Greenie. Who’s this you’re with?”

Damn, have I changed that much? Before Izuku can answer, Ayame laughs softly and draws the woman’s attention back to their face, “It’s me Auntie. Ayame.”

Mitsuki’s eyes widen in recognition, her hand flying to her mouth in shock as she gasped softly. “Iris?”

The platinum blonde nods and is immediately crushed into a hug along with Izuku. After a few seconds Mrs. Bakugou pulls the two inside and allows them to take off their shoes before dragging them to the dining room and shoving breakfast in their faces. The woman leaves no room for argument, but does shoot a couple compliments towards Ayame’s outfit that had the young adult smiling softly with pride.

“Katsuki! Get your ass down here and say hi to our guests!” Ayame had wanted to surprise Katsuki with their visit, mostly so he didn’t have any time to put on a poker face and act fake nice to their brother. Maybe he wouldn’t have even bothered though, considering he leaves very visible marks on his victims.

“Shut up hag! I’m coming!” Stomping footsteps are heard coming down the stairs and Masaru—who’d been sitting on the couch drinking coffee—smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.

The youngest Bakugou enters the dining room with a scowl on his face, mouth half-open and about to form words before his eyes land on the greenette he’d been terrorizing sitting next to a familiar, authority-looking figure.

Crimson eyes narrowed in distaste as the nine-year-old crosses his skinny arms, “The hell is stupid Deku doing here? And who the hell is that yakuza-boss wannabe next to him?”

Ayame’s eyes darken as they realize the name Katsuki had called their little brother, and Izuku flinches and ducks his head down. I fuckin’ knew it. The young adult tightens their grip on their brother’s hand slightly and smiles at the little bully, “I seem to remember you used to call me Aya when you were younger, but I guess a lot of things have changed over the years huh?”

A round of questions get hurled at the nineteen-year-old, and Ayame does their best to answer all of them as directly as possible. They really didn’t want to stay too long anyway, not with that little brat sitting across from their brother glaring holes into his skull.

The platinum blonde could tell their brother was getting more uncomfortable by the second, so they decide maybe now is time to make their grand exit. Checking the clock and seeing they only had thirty minutes to make it to Yuuei, Ayame gets up and bows at the waist to the Bakugou’s.

“Thank you for breakfast, but Izuku and I have to head out.”

Mitsuki frowns and crosses her arms in a similar fashion to her son, “It’s ten in the morning on a Saturday, where the hell do you have to be?”

Ayame pushes Izuku behind them towards the door so he could put his shoes on and smiles sheepishly, “I have a meeting at Yuuei with Eraserhead, so I really can’t be late—“

Katsuki jumps up at this and little crackles sparked in his palms, “What?! You’re taking Deku to Yuuei to meet heroes and not me??”

“K-Kacchan it’s not like—!”

“Shut up dumb Deku—!”

Ayame grabs Katsuki’s hand and curls his fingers into fists to stop the explosions, crouching low into the kids face so only he could hear the whispered threat, “Threaten or bully my little brother again, and I’ll make sure you know just how painful it is to be on the receiving end of constant torment Kacchan.”

Now, was that a bit overkill for an nine-year-old? Probably. But, as Ayame makes their way back to their brother to put on their own shoes and exit the Bakugou household, leaving behind a scared-into-compliance child who wouldn’t torture their little brother anymore, they found they really couldn’t care less. If it would protect Zuzu, the platinum blonde would do anything. They’ll apologize to the little brat later.

“W-What did you say to Kacchan Aya?”

The young adult just smiles down at their brother and continues walking towards the train station, “I was just telling him how awesome you are kiddo.”

Izuku blushes and stammers out cries of protest as Ayame laughs and makes a break for the near-departing train. The younger runs after his sibling with a huge smile on his face as he realizes that this was what he’d been missing most. What he’s been craving most.

Fun.

Chapter Text

Two trains and twenty minutes later, the Midoriya siblings stand in front of the massive gates of Yuuei. The younger was vibrating with excitement and nervousness simultaneously at the realization that All Might went here!! He was scribbling away in his notebook about all the cool cameras and hero tags while the elder was more subdued, as they were used to big, elaborate gates that protected the world from dangerous people. Although the heroes wouldn’t see themselves as being the outside world needed protecting from, Ayame definitely begged to differ. But, that’s a conversation for another time.

The young adult looks around the gate for a guard or gatekeeper but finds none, so they shrug and just assume Yuuei doesn’t believe in trickery like the Zoldycks did.

“Izu, can you stand back a little for me?” Their younger brother looks confused for a second but trusts their sibling, so he moves backwards off of the sidewalk. Ayame puts their hands on their hips and sighs, Haven’t done this in a while. Rolling their shoulders, the young adult places their left hand to the gates. This should do. Standing up straight and turning back to make sure their brother was still present, the teen uses their left hand to push the Yuuei testing gates open.

The gates explode backwards from their position in the wall, landing about five feet from the steps into the school. Ayame frowns but holds their hand out for their little brother, the two making their way into the hero school to the sounds of blaring alarms. Those gates are for shit. I’ll have to ask Illumi to enlist their contractor for better ones. A flash of gray catches the teens eye, and in two seconds Izuku is thrown towards the bushes near the steps and the pale blonde has a scarf caught in their hands. The young adult tilts their head to the side in confusion, looking up to see the person on the other end was a man, probably in his late 40s, with a baggy black jumpsuit on and yellow goggles hiding glowing red eyes. Eraserhead.

With a harsh tug on the scarf, the teen gets launched towards the underground hero. The young adult smirks and swings their legs out in front of them, colliding with the grizzled man and twisting their legs around his neck, effectively trapping the man and his arm between their hard thighs. Three more pro heroes burst through the front doors of the school, one spotting their younger brother and hauling the nine-year-old to his feet.

“No! Aya, help me!”

Ayame squeezes their thighs tighter and yanks the hero’s arm towards them, pulling the limb from its socket and rendering the man incapable of using his scarf. The young adult springs up and dodges a swift kick coming in from an incredibly inappropriately dressed heroine, which they now recognize as Midnight, the R-Rated hero, and knocks the woman unconscious with a chop to the back of their neck. Those pheromones would’ve been annoying to deal with. The teen grabs a rock from beside them, launching it at the knee of the hero trying to take their brother. Ayame disregards the shattering knee and screeching of the hero in front of them and sprints to their little brother, scooping up the teary child and cradling him to their chest.

“Are you alright Zu? Did he hurt you? Any scratches or bruises? Should we go to the hospital?”

The kid just tightens his hold around their neck and screams again, causing the young adult to turn around quickly and catch the fist flying at their face. Eraserhead grunts and headbuts the younger, causing the pale blonde to release his hand and extend their claws, aiming for the pro hero’s throat.

“Enough!” a booming voice exclaims, and Ayame stops their attack right before it can pierce the hero’s throat. Eraserhead pauses and retracts his hand, raising the appendage in surrender. The young adult doesn’t move their hand, and turns their head slightly to face the figure behind them.

“You move, he dies old man.”

The large man to the right of the teen isn’t smiling, and his body radiates oppressive heat even with his flames dimmed to the lowest. Endeavour, for the first time in his hero career, notices the sincerity in his opponent’s eyes and doesn’t move, too focused on the mess that is the front quad of Yuuei high school. He has seen a lot of battles, but none quite as one-sided against heroes as this one. The front gates of the school are blown to smithereens, and a massive hole takes the place of where the protective shell used to stand. His heroes-in-arms are in various states of disarray on the lawn; Midnight is sprawled on the ground with her body in a crater at least five inches deep, blood flowing from slashes in her arms and legs, Eraserhead has his left arm hanging loosely to one side, broken at the elbow and dislocated from his shoulder joint, blood trickling slowly from the claws still held at his neck. The flame hero has no idea who’s on the floor, but their leg is twisted at an odd angle and there are several bone fragments piercing through his skin at the knee.

Ayame stares at the piece of shit in front of them, keeping Izuku tucked into their shoulder. “Why was I attacked after passing the testing gates? Have you no shame?”

“What are you talking about, villain scum?” the flame hero demands.

He realizes he made a mistake when those claws press in deeper, the blood flowing more freely from the underground hero’s neck. “You’re the only villain here, hot stuff,” the man flushes at the nickname. “Now, I demand to see Principal Nedzu and Aizawa Shouta. I have a meeting about my internship.”

The man behind the young adult sighs and relaxes his body, “Shit. You’re Midoriya Ayame, aren’t you?”

Ayame turns to the hobo, “Yea, why?”

Eraserhead holds out his right hand, “Aizawa Shouta, nice to meet you.”

The platinum blonde’s face drops, and they laugh sheepishly before retracting their claws and shaking the man’s hand softly, “Oops, haha. This seems to be a huge misunderstanding.” The man grunts in reply. “This won’t go on my work record, right?”

After settling their differences (read: Ayame finally met the Principal after attacking four licensed heroes and almost getting arrested), the two Midoriyas got a tour of the campus. Izuku can hardly stand still from his spot next to his sibling, and Ayame silently chuckles at the pure awe on the boy’s face. Some things never change.

“So, Ms. Midoriya-“

“Mr., actually.” The rat-bear looking mammal eyes the young adult carefully, raising his eyebrow in silent question. “My resume should’ve stated I was non-binary, and that I’d like to be called ‘Mr.’ by the kids. Did it not?”

The principal looks away and starts walking again, furry hands clasped behind his back, “Unfortunately, no, it did not. I’ll have to change that in the registry, but that should not be a problem. Now, as I was saying, your resume was quite scarce, do you have any prior teaching experience?”

Besides training the younger Zoldycks? Fuck no. “Ah, yes. I trained a young duo of heroes-in-training back in Yorknew.”

“That’s outstanding news. Have they debuted?”

In a way. “Not yet, but I’ve left them in the care of very trusted friends of mine.” Leorio and Kurapika did not, in fact, consider Ayame a friend. They were more like the terrifying older sibling of their younger, also terrifying, friends.

“I’d love to get those hero's information when we get back to the meeting room,” Nezu replied.

Shortest job I’ve ever held. “Of course, Principal Nedzu.”

The tour continued like that for some time, with many questions from Izuku about the different rooms and the heroes that taught in them. The kid went on and on like a priest in Sunday service after Halloween, and Nedzu–thankfully—indulged their brother. Finally, when it was nearing four o’clock and Ayame had taken to carrying their tired sibling, the group settled down in a conference room, where a banged up Midnight and Aizawa awaited, along with Endeavor, Snipe, Present Mic, and Cementoss, all in seemingly good condition.

The elder Midoriya sat in a chair opposite the gun-slinging hero, nodding to the man in front of them. Snipe just stared and crossed his arms, “So you’re the child that shattered Ectoplasm’s kneecap? You don’t look like much.”

“You don’t either, Bareback Mountain.”

Eraserhead chokes on the coffee he was inhaling while Endeavour and Cementoss stare in shock. Present Mic and Midnight are the first to break the silence, exploding in laughter, the latter almost falling from her chair. Izuku stirs from all the commotion, “What’s a bareback mountain Aya?”

The elder pats the boy's head softly, “Nothing Izu, you can go back to sleep.”

Principal Nedzu clears his throat and the laughter cuts off, everyone suddenly tuning into the task at hand. “Well, since that’s over, why don’t we start with introductions for the upcoming school year, hm?”

Endeavor rolls his eyes, “This is ridiculous, all of our information is public.”

Ayame gives the dickkwad an exasperated look, “I’m sure Nedzu was talking about our future roles in Yuuei’s schooling system.” Dumbass. “I, for one, have no fucking clue what you guys think I can teach a bunch of disillusioned brats about heroics .”

Eraserhead sighs and rubs his temples, “Please tell me you’re joking. Have you ever taught in an actual classroom?”

A scoff from the young adult, “Classrooms are overrated. Kids need hands-on experience or they’ll be useless in the real world.”

Nedzu claps his hands, “Well, that’s certainly an interesting way to look at it! You’ll be perfect to assist in Class 1-A’s Practical Heroics course. Todoroki here,” a glance to the flame hero, “will be your head instructor. Please treat each other well.”

If I’m lucky the bastard will quit. I can’t imagine he’s even close to being a good teacher. “Yes, of course. Are we done here?”

“Not quite.” The principal slides a thin manila folder towards the eldest Midoriya, their name scribbled into the tab on the top right side. “In this file is all of the information for your hero license exam. Since you are taking it under the pretense of becoming a Yuuei instructor, the provisional exam is unnecessary.” Ayame opens the folder to find an ID card with their name on it, along with the label ‘instructor’ underneath, and their passport picture above the two. “That is your work ID. Without it, access to Yuuei’s campus and any other Yuuei facilities or properties will be prohibited. Please do not lose it, and try to refrain from destroying our gates again.”

Midnight raises her hand, turning towards the young adult fully, “Yeah I’m still confused about that. Why did you burst the gates open?”

Ayame raises an eyebrow in confusion, “I was not made aware your testing gates were so poorly constructed. Had I known, I would have just asked Izuku to push them open.”

“Yeah, see that, right there. What the hell are you talking about? Who the fuck said anything about testing gates?” Snipe questions.

“Where I was raised, the gates to my home were made of solid stone. In order to be welcomed back from assignments, we had to open at least three of them.” The elder Midoriya hesitates, “Is that…not what yours are?”

The heroes stare quietly, all in various states of shock, “No, listener, that’s not what our gates are for. How much did yours weigh??”

“That’s classified information. If you’d like to visit, the gatekeeper will tell you when you get there.” Ayame adjusts their hold on their brother and stands, looking at their new boss, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my brother home.”

“Yes, of course Midoriya. Do remember your exam is next Tuesday, and please do not be late.”

Midoriya Ayame is, in fact, twenty minutes late for their hero license exam, but there is a very good explanation for it. Simply put, they’d woken up late. So sue them, it’s been a long week, and the trains took forever to arrive, and even longer to fill. In hindsight, it probably would’ve been faster if they’d just run to the exam, but the young adult wanted to save their energy for the test. There was no telling what the exam would have entailed, so it was in their best interest to be ready on all accounts.

…Is what a responsible adult would say. Truth be told, Ayame couldn’t care less about this exam, and just wanted to go home and sleep for a hundred years. They’d gone from having all the freedom in the world, with infrequent yet high-profile jobs, to strict work schedules and babysitting a bunch of kids that wasn’t their baby brother.

As you can probably tell, their first day of work hadn’t been the best. Endeavor was even worse to work with than they’d initially thought, and the man knew jack-shit about actual teaching. He just stomped his big ass feet and yelled bloody murder when the kids did something wrong.

But, they’re getting off-track here. The young adult fixes their black baseball cap and fishes their ID from the pocket of their black Nike shorts, fixing their gold chain with an ankh Killua gave them for a birthday a couple years back as a joke—none of the Zoldycks were religious. Walking up to the tired looking man in a suit behind the welcome table, Ayame pops their gum and holds up the small card.

“Yo, who am I supposed to show this to?”

The man looks the young adult up and down, eyeing the white wife-beater tank top and crocs, “What, exactly, are you doing here?”

Ayame rolls their eyes, “I’m here for the hero license exam, duh. Now who am I supposed to show this shit to?”

The man runs perfectly manicured fingers through his navy blue undercut, turning to his laptop and scrolling through their database, “Name?”

“Midoriya Ayame.”

“Alright, one sec.” Tan hands work across the keyboard expertly, pitch black eyes scanning his screen quickly, “Hm, yeah you’re right here. Says your exam check in started…twenty minutes ago.”

The young adult shrugs and rubs the multi-snake tattoo curled around their left arm, “Traffic.”

Black eyes look up with doubt, “Yeah…sure. Anyway,” a slip of paper is handed to the young adult.

The two’s hands brush together slightly, and Ayame decides to feel this guy out a little—sue them, he’s hot. Instead of letting go, they stroke their thumb across the back of his hand, holding it while making eye contact with the suited welcomer.

The man—probably about twenty-two or twenty-three—clears his throat, “um, there’s your number sticker, so the examiners can enter your scores, since you have no hero name.”

Ayame smirks at the slight blush dusting the adorable man’s face, kissing his hand softly and plastering the sticker above their right breast. They smile and stick a chestnut brown business card under the man’s laptop, their number and name written in bold creme lettering on the back. “Thanks, it was nice meeting you,” a glance at his name tag, “Iida.”

Leaving behind the stuttering welcome basket, the snowy haired adult strolls into the large arena, hands tucked in their pockets and eyeing the competition. The large space is filled with hero interns and third-year students, all decked-out in their flashy costumes and support gear. Midoriya gets many confused stares and whispers, but before any of the wannabes gather the balls to approach them, a scraggly man—also in a suit (seems to be the running theme with these guys)—clears his throat and the crowd shuts up. The man doesn’t smile, doesn’t thank anyone for coming, he doesn’t even have a welcome speech ready.

All he says is, “Fight.”