Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku is walking his usual self-pity path and is in front of the main attraction when he sees him.

Actually, he noticed the commotion at the gates first, but he didn’t pay it any mind after the split second it took to realize it was just the press. He too had heard the rumors that All Might would be teaching at UA this year (just another taunt, just another jibe life decided to deal him) and it was easy to guess why they were there. One of them had probably triggered the alarm by accident. So, he didn’t really acknowledge them more than a light displeasure at being around so many people on his Pity Stroll, as he dubbed it.

No, what really caught his attention was the man with the hoodie. And maybe it was a little bit hypocritical to find someone with their face hidden by a hood weird when he himself was doing the same, but, well, he was a teenager on a Pity Stroll and just an insult away from jumping off a roof. Normal people don’t usually go around in March in a black hoodie to hide their features near a conveniently recently-destroyed gate of a conveniently internationally acclaimed hero school.

Oh well, I wish I could care.

And really, he did. Sassing your way through your shitty life only helps so much, after all.

He wasn’t in a good place at the moment. Hadn’t been for quite some time, to be honest. Specifically? He would say ten months, give or take. But everything just got to a new low earlier that week, when high school started. Starting high school, the moment that was supposed to change his life forever, change it for the better, had been like being submerged in sludge, only this time no one could save him. He felt it, felt the last hope being snuffed out like the feeble light of a candle. The last candle still burning after everyone had come by and thought ‘Oh look what a nice chandelier! Oh wait, it still has candles? Goodness, we are in the 22nd century! These are so obsolete! Better put them out!’ and just full-off blow until the very last breath of air in their fucking lungs before giving themselves a nice pat on the back and continuing with their business.

Yeah, he just compared himself to a chandelier. God, he wishes this was the worst thing that had flitted through his head this week.

But, back to the point, he had started high school. He was so thrilled when he discovered that Aldera Middle School was affiliated with another institute for further studies! And despite having dreamed for the last ten years about getting out of that hell, there weren’t many high schools in Japan willing to accept those like him. So Aldera 2.0 it was (the school actually had a name of its own, but he hadn’t even bothered learning it, this one fit perfectly)! Oh, and don’t forget this all came after he was attacked by a villain, saved by his idol before finding out that the increased lung capacity of said idol was also perfect to blow out a lot of candles at once. Ah! The unexpected applications of quirks, always so fascinating.

That was also when he implemented the new route for the walks he sometimes took, one that passed in front of the gates of UA, so that he could remember everything that he would never be.

Plus, it was nice, since the main road to the school was surrounded by woods. They were well-kept and the air was definitely better than in other parts of the city. He should have been in school, but, to be completely honest, he needed a pause. It had only been, like, three days, but his mental health was bad enough he didn’t feel guilty in the slightest to miss a day of the awful school. It was either missing a day to recharge or going to school and probably having the final mental breakdown, assaulting the teachers and then jumping out the window.

So really, he had other thoughts in that specific moment than weird guys and destroyed gates. They weren’t necessarily good thoughts, but hey, no one is perfect.

He resolved to just ignore the guy and the press altogether, but then his eyes, those treacherous little balls, noticed the way Weird Guy kept his hands.

First, they were out of the pockets, and, considering the edgy black look, that fact was, well, not strange, but peculiar. Second, he held them with a certain carefulness, a certain stillness and a tenseness to his shoulders, as if to make sure they didn’t touch him by accident. Third, the fingers, although in an almost natural loose pose, were more far apart than one normally keeps them. But the true hint was the pinkie. It was kept even more carefully far from the other fingers, almost outstretched, probably the result of having to avoid touching an object with all the fingers for most of his life. He had already seen this kind of tell in people with five-point contact quirks and these types of quirks where one of the easiest to recognize.

To reassume, weird guy in a hoodie, clearly not a reporter, outside of UA, at lunch time, when the place is literally swarmed by journalists, with the alarms blaring, the gate clearly pulverized (likely by a quirk), and with a five-point contact quirk? Not suspicious at all, my fellow.

It doesn’t take Nedzu to put two and two together.

Now, Izuku would usually be satisfied with having guessed correctly and gotten to the right conclusion, because it’s obvious the man has a contact quirk and admittedly no one would be around UA at this time of day and with the entrance swarmed by reporters. He couldn’t even be just a curious passer-by that stopped to see the cause of the alarm, because, although he is just near the edge of the crowd of journalists, he still is inside the group and near the gate and it would have taken some time to get there, especially after the siren started and all the reporters probably launched themselves even nearer to the entrance in an effort to understand where the sound came from. But, this isn’t a usual time, because it’s a serious thing to think someone guilty of, so he has to be certain.

Oh, c’mon! He’s wearing a hoodie! With the hood on! It’s a black hoodie! That should be enough! Haven’t movies taught you anything? It’s not even that smart a move, if Izuku really has to say it. It’s too noticeable among the crowd of formally dressed reporters. If he had to guess, between being noticeable and having his face seen by the cameras he probably chose the former.

Doesn't matter how much he wants to convince himself that this is enough, though. He has to make sure. His analysis is the only thing left for him (yes, he can admit he had been obsessing over it a little after the whole ‘The only goal you had in your life is unreachable’ incident) and anyway, what does he have to lose?

This said, he carefully backs away a little and hides himself behind the line of the trees on the side of the street that indicates the beginning of the woods and waits for the man to exit the crowd. Yes, he wants to get near him to see if he can gather some more hints, but if Weird Guy really just destroyed UA’s gate he won’t stick around for long and it’s easier to wait for him hidden between the trees than to face the flock of hyped journalists.

Yes, he’s planning on following a possible villain that could probably turn him to dust with a touch just to prove if his theory is right. He doesn’t see a problem in it. It’s not like his life can get particularly worse than it is at the moment.

Just as Izuku stops between two big beech trees he sees the man moving to get out of the crowd, always careful of his hands, and pass beside him to get further away from the school. He gives him a little advantage and then follows him.

Izuku knows he’s not a master of pursual, while it is likely that the Guy has some experience in avoiding getting tracked, so he decides that the best move is not pursuing him. At least, not in the conventional way.

He knows that further down the streets there’s a shoe shop. One with the brands his classmates sometimes talked about. Weird Guy isn’t walking at a particular hurried pace, so it’s easy to get ahead of him with a slightly quicker one and stop at the window of the shoe shop, pretending to be admiring the display.

After all, people usually check behind them, not ahead of them, right?

The guy is some meters behind him, but Izuku hears him quite clearly when his phone rings and he pulls it out his pocket.

“Did you get them?” he says in a rough voice. It doesn’t sound particularly pleasant, quite grating actually, but it’s undoubtedly much younger than he expected it to be.

“Mh. Good. Hurry up now. I want to go home”.

Interesting. So their plan succeeded and Weird Guy is most likely the leader, at least of this operation, while the other one must have infiltrated the school thanks to the distraction at the gates and the leader now either has to wait for him to go home or needs him as driver or transport.

The guy is closer now and, as Izuku pretends to be confronting something on his phone with the display in front of him, he sees him turning around and looking in the other direction, where some of the TV vans are parked.

“No, not there. The alley is blocked by those annoying reporters. The second location is best. The convenience store one. I’ll be there in two minutes. You better be there, I don’t want to wait” and with this he closes the call. He just barely hears him mutter to himself, “Maybe I will be able to get rid of some of those little hero-hopefuls while at it” before letting out a sound that he could only describe as a delighted giggle.

The guy has passed him by now, but Izuku has no intention to follow him further. He knows the convenience store they were referring to. There’s only one that can be reached in two minutes by foot, a small shop owned by an old man. He only has to check that his assumption is right and the guy is heading for the narrow alley that circles the shop and he can do it from a safe distance.

As was predictable, Weird Guy takes a sharp turn to the right just before the store and isn’t that something.

The alley is too narrow to be hiding a vehicle in, plus if they were going to get away with a car or even a motorcycle, they would have chosen a point farther away from the school, to be less noticeable. A vehicle that leaves the scene so soon after the fact was bound to attract some attention. So, two options remain: a flight quirk and a teleportation one. And really, someone flying away is even more noticeable than a vehicle, so teleportation it is.

The last thing to do is see if the teleportation left some kind of trace, a residue or something, so he gives them one more minute and slowly begins to walk in that direction. He takes his time, just in case the accomplice is late and Weird Guy is still there, but when he reaches the entrance of the alley and turns his head (without stopping, because that would be too obvious) he doesn’t see anything. No smell of gas or oil from a motorcycle either, and he doubts they would be using a bicycle.

Now sure the danger is gone, he enters the alley and scans the area. No traces. Not that he expected much.

But a teleportation quirk. That’s so rare! He has never seen something like that! There are some reports online but no videos or anything particularly interesting. What would he give to be able to analyse it! It’s really a shame that someone with a quirk so powerful decided to go down the path of villainy. But really, who is he to judge.

Well, that was interesting! Certainly an unexpected turn to his Pity Stroll! Now he really has go home, he wants to search more information on teleportation quirks. Maybe even something on the psychological effect of a contact quirk. He is exiting the alley, already muttering to himself, when his brain, that treacherous little serotonin-starved muscle, flashes him a sentence in the grating voice of the villain.

‘Maybe I will be able to get rid of some of those little hero-hopefuls while at it’.

Oh no, brain. No, you don’t. This is so not my business. And why should I care anyway? Someone more petty would be happy that those students, with their perfect quirks in their perfect hero school, would get in some trouble for once. Would get to experience a little of the fear he lives with since he was five, when he understood that anyone could just come up to him and hit him in the face and he wouldn’t have been able to do anything. Plus, this is UA. The school is literally full of heroes. The principal is Nedzu, for god’s sake! If Izuku had found the culprit in 5 minutes, it would probably take him 30 seconds to do the same!

But he hasn’t heard him speak to the accomplice. He probably hasn’t seen him from inside the school, and the cameras nearby are not high enough to have caught exactly where he was in the crowd and where he had gone.

I hate you brain. I really do. This is when you decide to do something? Where is the apathy, mh? Let’s go back to wallowing in self-pity, thank you very much.

‘Maybe I will be able to get rid of some of those little hero-hopefuls while at it’.

Oh, fine! Fine! You win. Fucking useless piece of meat.

Resigned, Izuku drops down of the sidewalk and takes his notebook out of the bag. He always carries it with him. You never know when you are stumbling upon a fight, after all. He goes to a new page and starts scribbling everything he saw, plus his assumptions. Probably a group, no single villain is stupid enough to target UA so publicly. Probably plans to reveal himself soon, during the attack he is planning and needed the thing he stole to prepare or he wouldn’t have used his quirk so early on and risked losing the surprise effect. His quirk is most likely not on the registration list, because that would be too easy, but a quirk like that must have had some consequences on the psychological level. I mean, not being able to touch anyone for your whole life? And on that topic, the awakening of quirks so dangerous is bound to have been somewhat traumatic, maybe injuring himself or someone else. Statistics show that people who experienced a traumatic event early in life are more likely to turn to villainy, particularly if the event is quirk related (he adds the name of the research, just to be thorough).

If he had to guess the thing he stole is some kind of document, since the only thing worth stealing in that school after all. It could have been some equipment from the Support Department, but there are better places to steal that from. For all of its budget, UA is still a school and other companies and labs around the city have better materials and are easier to access. Plus, he specifically said ‘hero-hopefuls’ so it must be related to the hero classes and he referred to the things as 'them' so documents are the most likely option. And they must be crucial for his plan if he risked infiltrating the school to get them. Planimetries? Lists of the students? Maybe he’s targeting a student in particular and he needs the schedules to know where and when to find them. Many children of famous heroes and celebrities attend UA and if they are a target it's safe to assume the have security at home and to escort them to school, so getting their schedule is a way of knowing where they would be and when without the aforementioned security. No, that doesn’t make sense. Even without the security, the teachers of that course are all heroes. If Izuku had to do kidnap someone, he would rather face some armed guards than trained heroes. So maybe it isn’t schedules, it’s planimetries to infiltrate the school to a deeper level than they did this time. Or maybe the target isn’t a student. A teacher? Who knows.

He finishes in just a couple of minutes, used to writing to the speed of sound, and tears the pages of the notebook.

Oh fuck, he took also the drawing of that fight from yesterday. Just his luck. Oh well, no biggie. It was just a drawing of a new move of Present Mic and the notes are coded anyway.

He didn’t start using a code until ten months ago. He knew he couldn’t risk revealing All Might’s secret to anyone, but he just couldn’t not analyse the new information a bit. He still wrote about it in vary vague terms but, to be even more sure, he invented a code, so that it would be even harder to guess who he was talking about. He started using it on the other entries more to practice writing with it that for anything else.

He looks at the end of the page for a moment, pondering. There is no assurance that they will believe him. He could be tricking them, he could be a villain, he could be just a crazy kid writing gibberish. And he didn’t go through all this trouble to be ignored. Again. So he takes out his pen and adds a couple of lines to the end.

‘I know you have no reason to trust me, but check the cameras. If you look you will find the guy in the hoodie. Actually, you will find two, but one it’s me, so no worries. Anyway he was the one dressed in black, as I wrote before. Again, you have no reason to trust me, and my assumptions are probably wrong, but why would I do all this? Just to trick you? Too much effort, honestly. In any case, if you want some clarification, you can write me an email at this address…’

He hesitates a little before writing it. What if they track him down? What if he has to be questioned by the police? He doesn’t want to get in trouble. Plus, the moment they find out he’s quirkless they would dismiss everything anyway. He resolves to only answering questions about what he saw and not showing up in person and he writes the secure email he uses to sign in on those sketchy forums about the underground that he made as untraceable as he could.

Once he finishes, he turns and goes back to the school, which is, to his dismay, still surrounded by reporters.

Izuku hates crowds, obviously, because this day couldn’t get more pleasant. He’s not even surprised anymore. If he were afraid of giant ants with party hats, he would probably find one just waiting for him around the corner.

But he already got this far. While he was distracted, the police arrived and is starting to push the journalists away, which means he has to be quick or he won’t be able to reach the gates. He manages to pass behind an officer who is animatedly discussing with a determined-looking journalist and gets closer to the gate. There are some people just over the threshold: a man that is clearly a detective, three teachers and Nedzu himself.

Fantastic.

He tries to get the attention of the detective or one of the teachers, but with all the noise no one seems to hear him. And really, what did he expect? He briefly wonders about making paper airplanes and just throw them at them, but they would probably end up anywhere but near them, so he discards the idea.

He looks at the teachers. Two of them are listening to the conversation between Nedzu and the detective, while one is looking at reporters with a clear look of disgust on his face. Well, he doesn’t seem too friendly but he’s the best option.

He is dressed in a black jumpsuit, with a white scarf around his neck. Mh, he obviously isn’t a daylight hero, but who… oh fuck! Holy shit! That is Eraserhead! The Eraserhead! And that isn’t a scarf, it’s his super cool capture weapon! That weapon is the reason he created the secure account in the first place! Finding information on it had been a bitch, but he had managed in the end. Oh my God! His googles aren’t in sight but that’s definitely him! He didn’t know he was a teacher at UA, but it makes sense. A quirk like Erasure would be super useful to stop quirks going out of control. That’s so cool!

But he’s getting side-tracked. The police is going to notice him soon, so he needs to hurry. And now he knows exactly what to say to get the attention of someone. “Eraserhead-san!” he shouts and, as was expected, the hero in question whips his head in his direction so quickly Izuku is briefly worried about his neck.

The hero gets closer, a bored and steady look on his face. Well, he definitely doesn’t seem the more friendly, but Izuku knows better. He is one of the few heroes that patrol the less-known poorer areas and he’s ‘famous’ in the community for always knowing how to deal with victims that go into shock or have panic attacks.

The look is still intimidating, but he guesses the situation isn’t the happiest one for the hero.

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice that the hero is now in front of him, staring him down with an eyebrow slightly raised.

“Kid. Shouldn't you be in school? And how do you know my hero name?” he asks, voice deep and even.

Izuku decides to completely avoid both the questions. He really just wants to get this over with and go home. He’s tired.

“Sorry to bother you, Eraserhead-san. I just wanted to give you this. I think it could help” he says as he extends the hand with the papers, stopping just before the line of the entrance, to avoid triggering the alarm now that they finally stopped that annoying noise.

Eraserhead just looks at him, then at the paper sheets, then at him again, The Eyebrow® now even more raised.

If this was a normal situation, Izuku would start to fidget, maybe gush a little over his capture weapon, but he is tired. The sheer energy that took him to take all of these decisions in so little time, to face the crowd, to write down his observations with the goal to have them read by someone for the first time since his mother read Notebook #2, to talk to a hero he admires after the whole fiasco with All Might, and the stress of it all have sucked the little energy he had in him, so he just stands there, arm outstretched and meets the gaze of the hero without moving.

Still, the hero doesn’t make a move to grab the pages and Izuku starts to think of just shoving them in his chest and call it a day. But that would be a bad idea for two reasons: one, the alarm would go off again, and two, it is never a good idea to unexpectedly touch a hero expert in martial arts already distrustful of you and that could snap you in half like a twig.

So he just stays rooted and waits, impatience beginning to show.

After maybe another 30 seconds, Eraserhead seems to reach the conclusion that he isn’t a threat, because he finally extends a hand to grab the papers and Izuku is ready to bolt as soon as he takes them, but the hero seems to sense this and stops just short of reaching this damn analysis.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“You know, you’re not really good at this compromise thing. It usually works you give me something, I give something back. If you want me to take the papers, you should answer my questions” the hero says, and Izuku gets the sudden urge to start screaming.

“I don’t really care if you take them or not at this point, sir. I’m just trying to do you a favor. It’s not me who might need the information. You can either take it or not, I did my part anyway. Just hurry with your decision because I’ve got places to be” and yeah, the place is his bed, but he doesn’t need to know. He can’t actually believe he spoke so disrespectfully to The Eraserhead, but his relationship with heroes at the moment is a bit strained, despite still admiring them, and the one with teachers is non-existent and unfortunately Eraserhead falls in both the categories.

Not that he doesn’t believe him to be a great hero. He is. He knows it. He just doesn’t believe that anyone would be a hero for him nowadays.

Eraserhead seems to give up and looks at the analysis, voice getting more business-like when he asks, “What’s this?”

“I think I may have some information regarding today incident. It’s all written here. Enjoy.” he answers.

“And why are you giving me this instead of reporting your testimony to the police?” the hero asks again, still refraining from taking the papers.

“Because I’m afraid of man in hats”. He doesn’t give a damn anymore, honest.

Eraserhead just stares him down again and Izuku rolls his eyes.

“Because I’m not sure of the information, I don’t want to be questioned by the police and since I believe it to be time-sensitive information it is best for the school to have it before the officers. Happy? Now can you take this please, Eraserhead-san?”

He almost wants to cry when the hero finally grabs the analysis, and he’s already turning on his heel when he hears him say “Hey, wait, kid” and automatically slides to the left, successfully avoiding the arm that was reaching for him, before disappearing into the crowd.

He thinks he hears him mutter “Brat”, but he probably imagined it.

**

“Brat” he mutters, watching the kid disappear into the crowd of vulture still outside the gates. The attempt to stop him was half-hearted at best, it was clear that the boy would run as soon as he had delivered the papers. If he really wanted to, he could follow him, but he didn’t know if what the boy gave him was really useful information or just a prank and it could be a trick to lead him out of the school.

Shouta looked down at the sheets in his hand, clearly teared from a notebook of some kind. There was a drawing on the first page. A drawing of… Hizashi? Shouta frowns and looks closer. There are some arrows and what looks like notes but when he tries to read it, he finds that he can’t understand what’s written. It seems like a mix of hiragana and katakana, Latin letters and even some numbers.

So, it was just a prank in the end. Strange, the kid didn’t seem to be kidding, but maybe he read to much into it. At least the drawing is well-done, he can show it to Hizashi: he will be delighted.

He looks at the other pages to see if there are other drawings to show his husband but he stops, surprised, after seeing the second page. At the bottom of it there’s a circled '1', and checking the other sheets confirms the progressing order. These pages are also written in understandable language, so he resolves to read at least the beginning, just to be sure.

He barely reaches the bottom of the first sheet before calling out, “Nedzu”.

The principal turns to him immediately, hearing the importance of the matter in his tense tone.

“What is it, Aizawa-kun? Problems with the reporters?” he says, before noticing the papers in his hands and starting to walk in his direction.

“A kid showed up at the gate a couple of minutes ago and gave me this. He knew my hero name. I thought it was a prank at first” he says, years of having to report on duty taking over, before handing the paper sheets to Nedzu.

The principal starts reading them and his left hear twitches slightly, as it usually does when he finds something interesting, which doesn’t happen often.

“What do we know about them? Did they leave a name? Are we sure it was them who wrote this?” Nedzu asks, eyes still scanning the words.

“Male, short, probably between 12 and 16, dark hair, green eyes, no visible mutation. He had his hood up, so I’m not sure of the exact color of the hair or his features, but I probably could make a rough sketch. He didn’t tell me his name and bolted as soon as I grabbed the papers. He said he was making us a favor even if he wasn’t sure of the information, so it is plausible that it was him who wrote it” he answers, already starting to berate himself for not following him or asking more questions. They can probably still track him with the cameras, though.

“He is quite young to be writing analysis of this level” the principal muses, now looking at the drawing of Hizashi on the first page, “We will check the cameras and see if he’s telling the truth about the man he saw. It is also worth a shot to see if we can track him back to his destination and find out more about him. If that fails, as I think, we can still contact him and ask him a few questions”.

Shouta frowns, “How are you planning to contact him? We don’t even know his name.”

Nedzu finally tears his gaze away from the analysis and lifts it so Shouta is looking at the last page. Then, he grins, all teeth and alarming glee.

“With his email address, of course.”

Chapter Text

As soon as Izuku enters his apartment, he goes for his room and drops to the bed, exhausted. He barely has the energy to kick off his shoes.

He’s so tired. All the time. The exhaustion has become a part of his life as much as his analysis nowadays and the events and emotions of earlier drained him completely. He is still trying to process everything that went down: he met Eraserhead! And talked back quite impolitely, he admits. Where did he get the courage to do something like that when he couldn’t even stand up to Kac- Katsuki in Middle School? Where was all the defiance when people pushed him down every day of the week for being born differently?

He has to stop. No use thinking over all his life at this point.

Despite his exhaustion, there’s one thing he must do before sleeping. He has to update his entry on Eraserhead. It’s not like there’s much to add, but he can’t ignore it. He has to. His analysis must always be updated.

What if he missed something or forgot to add a detail crucial to intervene in a bad situation? What if his observations could help a child whose quirk is going haywire but he can’t remember the key point? What if the only thing that wasn’t a complete failure in his life started to decline like everything else?

Because that’s the only good thing that came out of that awful day ten months ago: his analysis wasn’t complete shit. He had saved Katsuki, if only for a moment. Not that it changed anything, in the end.

Unbidden, the memories of that day come back to him: school, Katsuki using his quirk on him after the teacher told the class of his choice of going to UA, the burnt notebook, Katsuki telling him to kill himself, the sludge cutting his air supply. Sliding down his throat, thick and sticky, impossible to cough out. All Might, his hero, his idol, the Symbol of Peace.

He still can’t believe how stupid he had been. So hopeful, so trusting. So blind.

All Might was everything. He wasn’t just a hero, just a man, he was tied to everything Izuku ever dreamed of. He was the literal cornerstone of the life he was planning to build since he was four. He was the person he turned to when his hope dwindled, when the candles began to dim.

He was the man he sometimes pretended was his father, in his head, just in his head. When he saw the other kids playing with their dads or when he heard the fathers of his classmates talk about their careers on Father’s Day. He knew All Might wasn’t his father, obviously, but he hadn’t seen his biological dad since he was, like, four, and he liked to imagine these silly scenarios in which his hero showed up and took him to the park to play. And all the kids were in awe and wanted to be his friend.

God, he was so stupid.

He had learned that basing all your life plans on a single person was not a good idea. When everyone else mocked him, when everyone insulted him, thought him less, he still held out hope. Hope in one person. His hero. The Symbol. No, it wasn’t just hope. He was sure that All Might would understand. He was sure he would see some potential in him, that he would look him the eyes with his blinding smile and say ‘You too can be a hero’.

Needless to say, it didn’t end up like that.

It ended with him on a roof, tears in his eyes and a constant scream in his head. He had tried to get up robotically, without even being aware of the movements. It was just a moment, really. A silly thing. He was already getting up to reach the door, because that was what All Might had said to do. But his shoelace had untied while he was soaring through the air, clutching All Might for dear life, and he tripped. He tripped and fell on his face.

He doesn’t know why, but that was what made him break down completely. He stayed there, crying, his breath quickening, kneeled on the roof, for a while. Then he blinked, and he was on the ledge. He didn’t bother to take off his shoes. He had never understood why people did that.

He remembers glancing in front of him, looking at the horizon for the last time. That was when the explosions began. They seemed to shock him awake, like he had been dreaming. The instinctual fear, the automatic response, managed to get him out of his dazed state. He fell back in the routine. Explosions meant a villain fight occurring, which meant taking notes.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to be alone on that roof anymore. It scared him. He was alone, it was cold, the wind was strong. He was trembling. The silence was heavy, unsettling. He wanted out of that damn rooftop.

The door hadn’t closed properly after All Might, so he took the stairs and started running. He just wanted to go away. To get back to what was normal. To get back to how life was yesterday.

He stopped abruptly halfway down a step. The feeling of the air rushing in and out of his mouth made him want to throw up. Knowing his mouth was so vulnerable, so accessible, so easy to clog was unbearable. He knew the sludge villain had been subdued, but the possibility of something blocking the air from reaching his lungs again was too much. Too frightening. It was so easy. All it took was a second, and he would be drowning again. He was caught between the urge to run down the stairs as quickly as possible and the need to find a way to protect his mouth.

The solution presented itself in the form of an old face mask in the pocket of his jacket. It wasn’t much, but he just needed something to make his mind calm down from this irrational fear.

After saving Katsuki, thanks to his analysis, he didn’t stand by to be scolded by the heroes and just bolted.

However, these are things of the past. He should stop thinking about them.

The scenes of that day have been flashing before his eyes constantly since they happened, no matter how much he tried to convince himself to forget and go on with his life.

So, he gets up and grabs the notebook with the entry for Eraserhead.

He is asleep before he can finish the first sentence.

**

When Izuku wakes, outside it’s dark. There is a faint smell of food in the air, which means his mom came home at some point and prepared dinner, but that must have been some time ago.

He sits up in bed and looks around the room for his phone to check the time and his gaze falls on the notebook on the floor.

Oh, shit the entry on Eraserhead! He can’t believe he didn’t finish it. One job Izuku, you had one job.

Sighing, he bends down to pick up the notebook and hurries to add what little information he could: the actual colour of the capture weapon isn’t white, more like a light grey, he is now certain he hates the press, and he is just as calm and steady as he expected. Despite his appearance, he gives off a safe aura. He doesn’t trust others blindly, but he doesn’t immediately dismiss information that comes from unexpected sources, which is understandable considering his career path.

That’s all. As he closes the notebook, he can feel himself relaxing.

Phew, at least I didn’t forget anything while I was sleeping.

He should probably eat something, but food is for the weak and he is quite positive he has at least one protein bar in the drawer of his desk. What more can a boy ask for, really?

He stretches and gets up, sitting at his desk and opening the wrap of his protein bar while he starts his computer.

He just met the Eraserhead, after all, you can’t expect him not to visit one of his favourite really shady forums on underground heroics and brag to the other members. He won’t spread sensible information on the hero, obviously, but he can still say he met him. It’s always exciting when one of the users meets an underground hero, especially if out of duty.

He follows the same routine as always and it’s soothing to his nerves. Start the computer, open the browser, log in the email, check for any updates in the inbox, find a new email from Nedzu, open the forum,… wait. An email from who?!

He does a double take so ridiculous he briefly feels like a character of an animated movie. He just needs the eyes bulging out of his head and it’d be perfect.

Ok, Izuku, you need to calm down now. Take a deep breath. You probably read it wrong. Yeah, that must be it.

He refuses to look at the screen again until he has calmed down a bit. Deep breaths. In, out, in, out.

When he feels like he won’t jump out of his skin, he slowly raises his gaze to the screen again.

Why is my life like this?

Because there it is. Bold black letters on the white background. Staring at him. Haters won’t believe him, but he swears the letters are staring at him.

What could Nedzu want from him? How did he even know his email? That’s a dumb question, he is Nedzu. If he wants to know something, then he will. But this doesn’t explain what he could want from poor little Izuku.

His sleep-dazed brain seems to finally be rebooting, because instead of just wondering he decides to simply check the email subject.

Today villain attack at UA!

Izuku lets his head fall to his desk. Hard. Maybe if he hits it strong enough his brain will have a reason to be so fucking obtuse.

How could he forget the analysis he handed over to Eraserhead? Maybe it's a trauma response. Trauma from what is anyone’s guess. At this point it could be anything really.

Ok so, now at least some of his questions have an answer. Izuku was the one to give him his email address and they are writing to make sure the information he gave them was accurate and know how he made his assumptions.

Now only a question remains. Perhaps the most important of all.

Why the exclamation point?

Really, it’s freaking him out.

Well, no point in stalling further. He clicks on the email and begins to read.

 

From: Nedzu

To: Me

Subject: Today villain attack at UA!

Hello there!

This is Nedzu, as you probably gathered. I am the principal of UA, but I am sure you knew this as well. I will get to the point: I really do not wish to bore you or take away too much of your time.

I believe one of my teachers met you earlier today and was given an analysis I found extremely interesting. As per your suggestion, we checked the cameras and found the person you described in your account of the events, although, unfortunately, we were unable to obtain any useful information from the tape.

First of all, I would like to express my gratitude and my admiration for your work. Your analysis was thorough and extremely helpful! We are already trying to gauge what the real objective of the villains may be and taking various precautions. I am writing to you because I wanted some clarification on some of the points you addressed in your analysis, as well as to satisfy my curiosity a little.

You will excuse me if some of the questions come off as invasive, but I am sure you understand the delicacy of the matter. As much as I do not think you to be untrustworthy, I still need to make sure you do not pose a threat to my school. I am the principal, after all!

Why were you in the area today at the time of the attack? How did you realize that the man in the hoodie was the villain responsible for it? Are you in any way affiliated with this presumed association?

The teacher you spoke with told me you did not want to be questioned by the police; any particular reason why? I of course know it can be quite a tedious task, but I imagine it would be a more immediate response to this kind of situation, especially for someone as young as you seem to be.

Now, onto the fun part! I couldn’t help but notice the drawing of Present Mic on one of the pages and the code the notes were written in! I admit I still haven’t been able to crack it, but it has been a nice challenge so far! The code itself is impressive! And to be able to take notes in it is even more impressive! I won’t ask you questions about the code, obviously, that would spoil the fun. Instead, I wanted to know: how do you like chess? How did you learn to write analysis to this level? Have you perhaps followed the course held by Dr. Takahashi? Or have you attended a seminar at your current school?

I know you are probably unwilling to share personal details, and I understand if you won’t answer me, but how old are you? What school do you attend? Oh, and what can I call you?

Well, that would be all! This turned out a bit longer that I planned it, I am sorry. I will wait for your answer, and I assure you I won’t try to track you down unless I believe you to be a threat to my staff or students.

I hope this will be the start of a fruitful collaboration!

Best wishes,

Nedzu

After finishing the letter Izuku is… baffled, for lack of a better word.

This was simultaneously exactly what I expected and nothing like it.

Nedzu had…complimented him? He said the analysis was good. Nedzu said his analysis is good. He feels the whole world faltering. What- what is happening? Is this a trick? A prank?

He reads the email again, scanning the screen as quickly as he can, trying to find some inconsistency. Something that hints at who could have written the letter, what could be the true purpose.  

He comes up with nothing. Logically, no one but the people at UA could know that he had given Eraserhead those pages and the heroes at UA have no reason to disguise themselves as Nedzu. Plus, it makes sense that it would be the principal to contact the person who allegedly knows something about the villain attack. He is a public figure, even if not exactly a limelight hero, and, apart from being the principal, he is the smartest being in Japan. So, it makes sense.

But at the same time, it doesn’t. How can it be that Nedzu, the most intelligent hero in the country, finds his analysis ‘interesting’? His code ‘impressive’?

Suddenly, anger seems to overcome him like the wave of a tsunami.

Really? Really, World? What have I done, uh?! What was the fault in my past life, what sin did I stain my soul with that I deserve such a punishment in this one? Now, fucking now is when one of my favourite heroes turns up out of the void and tells me that I’m not useless? I already gave up. I gave up, you hear me? I don’t want anything to do with heroes, I don’t want to help others. Honestly, the bar is so low right now all I can strive for is getting to tomorrow in one piece. Are you going to make me know hope again and crash it just for character growth? Well, you can kindly fuck off, World.

He can’t stand to be still anymore. He has to move. He gets up from the chair so quickly it falls behind him, but he doesn’t care. He has to move, to run, to do something. He is experiencing what he calls Misalignment. It’s when his brain, his thoughts, are going so much faster than his body that he must try to go as fast as them or his head will explode. When his thoughts start to take up too much space, expanding in the physical world and not letting him see anything else.

He must realign.

He doesn’t bother with the door, using instead the fire escape out of his window to get down and starts to run.

And run, run until the needles in his lungs become unbearable, until his senses turn off his mind and he feels like himself again.

He stops at the first bench he finds and lets himself fall on it. He allows himself a moment to breathe in the cool night air before he cautiously prods at his brain to see if it tries to implode again or if he can think of the next move.

What am I doing?

And really, that’s the question. It was just an email, for God’s sake! What’s more, it was him who made himself available to be contacted! What did he think would happen, uh? He can picture them, the staff of the most famous hero school in Japan ‘Oh yeah, this unknown kid just showed up with information on the villain who destroyed our gate and left his email address to contact him. Let’s set the address on fire and completely forget about it!’.

Yeah, that sounds plausible.

Still, the problem wasn’t the actual email. It was the praise. The compliments, words of appreciation from someone who had accomplished goals he could never wish to reach. He, the bottom step of society pyramid, the subhuman, the one evolution failed. How could it be?

Don’t get your hopes up, Izuku. The answer is simple: Nedzu doesn’t know you’re quirkless yet.

That’s it, isn’t it? He doesn’t know.

‘Doesn’t that give it more value? Doesn’t it mean that every people who told you that you were inferior was prejudiced? Doesn’t it mean that you really are worth something?’ whispers a voice in his head, faint but surprisingly sharp.

Honestly, he doesn’t know. What is worse, that he really is a genetic mistake or that everyone he ever met in his life mistreated him without a true reason?

He doesn’t want to think about it now. What he wants to do is get the head out of his ass and answer that damn email, because that’s the least he can do. If he can help someone, he will always choose to. That has always been the point, after all. He wanted to help people, to save them from the bad of the world. He would dedicate his whole life to helping, if people would let him.

But they don’t, so no use dwelling on it.

He slowly makes his way back to his house and through his window, sits at his desk and begins to type.

**

Shouta sometimes wishes his life wasn’t so miserable that receiving a call from his boss at midnight was a common occurrence, but, alas, here he is.

‘Here’ specifically being the couch of his living room, seated with his husband’s head in his lap, the position they were in when they passed out watching a really awful rom-com. His ringtone is still going because he can’t reach the phone at the other end of the couch, his arm feels prickly from the position it was in and his neck hurts. Basically, he’s already in a sour mood and he hasn’t even answered the damn phone yet.

“Shou, your phone is ringing” mumbles Hizashi from his lap and woah, thanks, I couldn’t tell.

“Oh good, you’re awake. That means I can do this” Shouta says, and proceeds to forcefully remove the blonde from his lap, almost knocking him off the couch in the process.

“Shou! I was really comfy!” Hizashi protests loudly, too loudly for his taste.

“Either this or we get my ringtone as soundtrack of the rest of our life” he answers evenly while reaching for the phone and sees his husband wrinkling his nose in the corner of his eye: Hizashi hates his ringtone.

“Fine, fine! Answer that thing before I throw it out the window. I’m going to make some tea.” He relents and heads for the kitchen.

He finally manages to get to the phone and picks up the call, “Aizawa”.

“Oh hello, Aizawa-kun! I hope I’m not bothering you in a bad moment.” Nedzu’s voice greets him from the other end of the call. He receives a grunt in response.

“Perfect then!”, his boss says, not at all deterred by his lack of a verbal answer, “I wouldn’t call you this late, but you asked to contact you if our mysterious boy decided to get back to us”.

Nedzu’s words have an immediate effect: he is now wide awake and already getting up to reach the laptop he left on the dining table.

“Forward me the email, please. Did he say anything noteworthy? Did he tell you who he is?” he asks, putting the phone on speaker and turning the device on, impatience showing in the way his leg was bouncing under the table.

“The reply should already be in your inbox, Aizawa-kun! The letter was, dare I say, quite interesting, even if maybe not in the way one would expect.” says Nedzu, a hint of excitement in his ever-cheerful tone.

Knowing asking further questions would get him nothing, he stays silent and tries to will the damn thing in front of him to go faster.

It takes more than he would have wished but he finally manages to open the inbox and clicks on the message Nedzu had forwarded.

From: [email protected]

To: Me

Subject: Re: Today villain attack at UA!

Hello Nedzu-san,

There is no need to thank me, really. I did what anyone would have done in my position. As I told Eraserhead (even if maybe in harsher terms, please tell him I apologize for the way I spoke to him, if you can) I was just doing a favor.

I understand the need to check the validity of what I told you and I will answer to the best of my ability where I can. I’m glad my analysis turned out to be useful, but, really, all the assumptions you found in the papers would have been easy for everyone to make, I was just the first one noticing the signs.

Regarding your questions: I know it sounds difficult to believe, but I was there today by chance. I was taking a walk around town and simply stumbled on the incident with the gate. I noticed the guy because of his appearance, if I’m being honest. He was the only one dressed casually in a crowd of reporters and he had a hood to cover his face. Really, he stood out quite a lot. Then I noticed his hands and the way he held them, typical of a five-point contact quirk. The gate had been pulverized but in was clear no one had noticed what caused it, no flash of light or sound, not even the journalists that were directly in front of it, so a contact quirk seemed like a likely option. I know it’s not much to go off of and it’s probably only luck that my assumption turned out to be correct just some minutes later, but alas…

Anyway, I decided to follow him to be sure and that was when I overheard the conversation with his accomplice, as I wrote in my report. I know it sounds a bit reckless, but I can assure you I don’t usually follow potential villains to dark alleys, ahah.

By the way, I’m sure many people would have found the solution even sooner, and, I mean, you are Nedzu, so even without my help it would have probably taken you, like, 15 seconds to find the culprit.

I am not affiliated in any way with the presumed association (or to any villain association, really), but I obviously don’t have any proof, so you will have to take my word on this one.

I didn’t immediately turn to the police because it seemed more logical at the time to give the information directly to the school. The police would have taken some time to analyse it and deem it useful, so UA looked like the best choice. I didn’t want to be questioned by the police because I should have been at school at the time, and I didn’t want them to contact it, nor did I want to spend the rest of the day at the station. I know I should have given my statement, but it wasn’t like I had actually witnessed the fact, so I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. Sorry.

As for your other questions… ehm, I like chess fine? I don’t play it regularly, but I downloaded an app a while ago and I still play sometimes. I’m sorry I didn’t attend any course from Dr. Takahashi (even if that would be, like, really cool. You are referring to Dr. Akihiro Takahashi, right? The one who wrote the article about the consequences of living in a society that values physical prowess more than rational thought?). Analysis has always been an hobby of mine, since I was little. I didn’t really follow a course or seminar, thought I read some research papers online. Does that count?

I am not comfortable with answering the other questions, sorry.

Oh, and you can call me Hiruko, I guess? Everything is fine really.

I hope I was able to help.

Bye,

Hiruko

Shouta can only sigh at this point. Even in the way he writes, he sounds so… young. Definitely young. Also, insecure. It’s clear the boy is crazy smart, but he seems to consider his abilities something anyone could do. Maybe it’s not insecurity, maybe it’s just lack of awareness. Perhaps his expertise in analysis is the result of his quirk, so he is accustomed to its effects and thinks it normal to make all these connections so quickly. Was that false modesty? It didn’t look like it, but it sounds hard to believe that someone so bright would be so clueless.

“Aizawa-kun? Are you done reading the email?” Nedzu’s voice startles him from the phone.

“Yeah, sorry. What do you think about it?” he wants to know what the principal may have gathered from the email before telling his thoughts.

“Well, first of all I don’t think he poses a threat to our school. If he did, he would have been more enthusiastic about our cooperation and shown more interest, but he didn’t even acknowledge my last comment about a ‘fruitful collaboration’ and that would be a strange way of trying to infiltrate UA” starts Nedzu in his usual cheerful voice, “He didn’t give us new information in regards of the attack, just confirmed what was written in the report. The thought process he describes speaks indeed of someone used to analyse situations quickly and makes it even more likely that it was him who wrote the report”.

“Do you think that’s his quirk? He said he didn’t attend any course and learned everything on his own”, Shouta asks.

“Mmh, it may be. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have told us to avoid the risk of us finding him via the National Quirk Register. It’s too early to tell” Nedzu muses, “What strikes me as strange is the reasoning he gave for not turning to the police. It’s flimsy at best and the tone of that sentence is more careful, more thoughtful compared to the rest of the text”.

Shouta hums in response. Yeah, that sentence was less natural if compared with the general tone of the email. The problem is the amount of reasons one can have to avoid the police is, like, infinite, so that doesn’t give them many clues.

“Here! I made tea! Have some, you caffeine-fuelled heathen.” And that’s Hizashi alright, coming out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs of what smells like green tea. Shouta makes a face but doesn’t complain. One must pick his battles and this one was won by the blonde 14 years ago.

Before he can say anything, a voice chimes from his phone, “Oh is that Yamada-kun? Hello! Did you try that Indian blend I gifted you for Christmas last year?”

Shouta has been saying this since forever, but tea lovers are definitely part of a crazy and wicked cult.

“We have!” replies his husband, in a too enthusiastic tone. Cult, I tell you. “It was really good! You totally have to tell me where you got it!”

Oh God, this is starting to sound like a meeting of tea-loving housewives.

“Well, Nedzu was just showing me the reply from the kid of today. The one who gave us the analysis of the villain” he interjects, before the situation can spiral further.

As expected, his husband immediately lights up, while simultaneously getting more serious. Shouta never understood how he could do that.

“Oh, the one who did that amazing drawing of my new move? Did you make any progress with the code, Nedzu?” Hizashi asks, coming to stay behind him to see the screen and starting to play with a lock of hair that escaped Shouta’s bun.

“Not yet! I think I got the sentence structure down, but I still have some troubles with the actual symbols” says Nedzu, sounding thrilled. It’s not often he’s mentally challenged, after all.

Hizashi hums, before shifting his gaze to Shouta “What are your impressions on the little listener?” he asks, eyes scanning Shouta’s features and reading thoughts he himself probably hasn’t even acknowledged in his expression. He can’t hide anything from him. Not that he usually wants to.

“I’m not sure, honestly. This whole situation isn’t exactly transparent” replies Shouta, eyes going back to the words on the screen.

Hizashi just keeps fiddling with his hair, the familiar sensation calming, “Do you think he may be in danger?” and there it is. The mindreading. The underground hero would be affronted at being so easy to read if this wasn’t the man he spent half of his life with.

“It could be a possibility. Maybe he is related to one of the villains in the organization and this is why he knew so much about the guy who destroyed the gates. A parent, perhaps, or a sibling.” He wouldn’t be the first child put in harm way by the senseless choices of their family, nor the first one to try and denounce what he knew and meet a terrible end.

“If you are worried about him, we can always try and find more info. Nedzu promised he wouldn’t track him down and doing so now would betray his trust, but there might be another way. If you think about it, he knew your hero name and that isn’t exactly an every-day occurrence. He was clearly a fan! Plus, his email address literally says ‘underground’. It’s safe to assume that either he was saved by you at some point or found out who you were online. The only way is joining one of those edgy forums on underground heroics your agency is always trying to put down. There aren’t many around, so maybe you will be lucky and find the one he signed into. It’s not much but it’s a start. A way to communicate without spooking him and possibly find some personal details” ponders his husband and Shouta tries to convey all his gratitude with a soft look in those amazing green eyes of his.

“I love you, you know that?” he murmurs tenderly, because it’s clear Hizashi thought about it for his sake and it will never cease to amaze him how the blonde is so effortlessly kind, so attentive to other’s feelings.

“I love you, too” replies Hizashi before bending to kiss him softly.

Obviously, such a moment can't last.

“That was really sweet, Aizawa-kun, Yamada-kun! I’m glad to see your relationship is still so strong and caring!” Nedzu chimes in from his phone and Shouta reluctantly pulls away, sighing. He had forgotten the principal was still on the phone. His husband, for his part, just chuckles and seats beside him, taking a sip of the leaf water in his mug.

“Thanks” Shouta grunts, glaring at Hizashi.

“Speaking of the possibility of the boy being in a dangerous situation, I’d like to point your attention to the name he chose to be called” continues Nedzu.

“Hiruko? It doesn’t ring any bells” Shouta tells him, and he sees Hizashi shaking his head beside him.

“Are you familiar with Japanese mythology, by any chance?”

“I know the basics, but I never studied it in-depth if that’s what you mean” he likes reading, but he prefers modern literature to epic texts.

“Well, Hiruko is a lesser-known god, the son of the first two beings, Izanagi and Izanami. Legends have it he was born deformed because of a mistake of his mother during the marriage ritual and consequently cast into the sea by his parents”.

A+ parenting, Ancestral Beings.

“So you think the name may be a reference to him being the son of a villain?” Shouta asks, frowning. Why must everything always be so convoluted? He likes to keep things simple. Straightforward. Hidden meanings and riddles always seemed a waste of time.

“We don’t have enough information as it is. It may also refer to the fact the child of the story is deformed. You said he had no visible mutation, but it could have been something hidden. Or maybe he too was abandoned by his parents. It’s too early to say” is the answer that comes from the phone on the table.

“In any case”, Nedzu adds, “now we must focus on the possibility of a villain attack on our school. We need to try and understand what the villains’ real objective is. In the meantime, I will take some general precautions, particularly for the hero classes. I advise you to be especially careful for the time being”

“Of course.” No one is going to harm his students. He will make sure of it.

“Then, I will let you rest now and I’ll see you both tomorrow, or well, today I suppose! Goodnight, Aizawa-kun, Yamada-kun!”

They both mutter their ‘goodnight’ and then the phone falls finally silent.

This year is already looking exhausting.

Chapter Text

It’s interesting, Izuku thinks, how it always appears easier for evil to overcome good than the other way around. How only one spot of darkness seems enough to swallow the light of dozens of fires, while it takes hundreds of them to brighten that same darkness.

It’s a nice metaphor for this shithole.

And yeah, his school is the epitome of all black holes.

Ah, to be young and naïve and think that nothing could ever be worse than Middle School. That was a miscalculation on his part. Middle School, as awful as it was, was still a nice mix of many types of people. It wasn’t all bad. There were good kids there, too.

Sure, good kids for him meant that they only ignored him instead of actively making his life worse, but it’s still something.

Now, all the good kids have gone to their High School of choice, some decided to find a place for an apprenticeship and, so, only the rest remains. The ones who had no other choice but this school, in this area of the city, which, let’s face it, isn’t the nicest one. So, here he is, part of The Rest.

Now you’re just being dramatic, Izuku.

And? What is life without a little drama, uh?

Karma definitely heard that one, because ‘drama’ is now on its way. And he looks gleeful, which usually doesn’t bode well for Izuku.

“There you are, asswipe! I almost thought you had finally taken the leap yesterday when you didn’t show up. But here you are, perfectly healthy.” He does a theatrical pause, for suspense’ sake. He should have gone into acting instead of assholing, “We should do something about that”.

The brainless goons of the day behind Asshole #1 even have the gall to laugh. He briefly has a very clear vision of what’s going on inside their heads:

Brainless goon #1: ‘Woah, you’re so bright and fun, Hiroto. We should go watch the sunset together this evening.’

Brainless goon #2: ‘Me hungry… Mmmh… Bread.’

Yeah, no offense, but that expression doesn’t exactly scream quantic equations.

“Hi, Hiroto-kun”, oh fuck, he forgot to stammer. At least the meekness is there. Whatever, it’s not like it will change what will happen in the next few minutes.

“’Hi, Hiroto-kun’” he repeats mockingly, in what is an honestly quite impressive imitation of Izuku’s voice. Maybe he should really go into acting. He would be perfect for the part of the big and bulky bad guy who meets the heroine and realises all he ever wanted to do was raise guinea pigs in the countryside. Rapunzel-style.

And, once again, so bright. Repeating one’s sentence. So innovative. He must have attended the Annual Bully Conference to come up with something so fun and unique.

In front of him, Hiroto seems to be thinking the same, a proud and satisfied expression on his face, with a smirk that perfectly shows his crooked teeth. Ok, so maybe not an actor. The guinea pigs theory still stands, though.

“You know, scum, I’m quite happy today. My brother will be in a big operation tomorrow. I can’t let him down. I have to be at top form for when he will let me help him. And you are perfect practice” he announces, chin up and stance broadening, the very picture of a devoted little brother.

Ah, yes. His legacy.

The reason Hiroto is at the top of the food chain in the Black Hole School. This High School being the wonderful institution it is, a good chunk of its students comes from a legacy. Their siblings or parents or relatives of some sort are drug dealers, robbers and criminals in general. That’s why they are here. They don’t really care for further education, but they still want the piece of paper at the end for some reason or another. And, while at it, they terrorize and/or corrupt the few who are really here to learn and had no other choice but this hellhole, so that they too can turn to crime as a new way of life!

That is why this school is the epitome of a black hole. It takes the small specks of light the enter it and devours them. The dark festers here, the cruelty and nastiness spreading like a disease in the perfect terrain. The kids here already know the world despises the vast majority of them: weak quirks, villainous quirks, poverty, you name one. And, in the end, the bad gets them. They stop fighting the expectations everyone has for them and become what the world told them they would.

They turn the sadness into bitterness, and the bitterness into anger. Some become villains, because when you live in the dark for so long and you look for someone to blame, you always turn to those who shine the brightest.

And really, can he blame them?

It’s too easy to say the fault of this darkness rests only on the bad guys. Immediately after the figure of heroes settled in society, when just having a hero agency was enough, fame and wealth came into the mix. As always happens, from just being highly regarded for existing, visibility became a factor. So, heroes started to prefer central and well-kept areas to open their agencies. The gap between richer and poorer neighbourhoods only widened from then on. Criminals concentrated in the areas heroes patrolled less, and the shadier and poorer the areas became, the less the heroes patrolled. It was a vicious circle, really.

Of course, there still was underground heroics, but it was, well, underground. It didn’t transmit the same sense of safety, the same reassurance that seeing brightly dressed individuals walk near your house did.

So really, whose fault was it: the heroes’ or the villains’?

This is all extremely interesting and surely a point that needs further pondering, Izuku, but you’re about to be beaten to a pulp, so maybe now it’s not the time.

Izuku looks at the boy in front of him tiredly, resigned. He knows where this is going. And there it goes, Hiroto punching him in the stomach and making Izuku glad he didn’t have breakfast this morning.

Hiroto’s dominant feature is his size. He’s massive, shoulders broad, biceps resembling thick metal cables and giant hands. He’s not very tall, but everyone is taller than Izuku, so it’s not actually a point in his favour. His quirk is called Fear Force; basically, in a fight he becomes stronger the more the victim – ahem, sorry – the opponent is scared. From what Izuku gathered, his father and brother have more or less the same quirk, with only minor differences. That makes him the perfect bully, even if it doesn’t work on Izuku as much as on the others.

It's not like he isn’t scared, he is. After all, fear is an instinctual response to being used as a punching bag, even discounting his past experience, but he isn’t afraid of Hiroto. He’s not trembling, he won’t beg and won’t expect for something different to happen. He’s used to it, and while this doesn’t make the whole ordeal pleasant or fun, he has become quite indifferent to it. The pain is still there, and under the surface, growing more every day, anger and bitterness are boiling with only his mental snark as an outlet, but he knows nothing he could do would change the way people see him or treat him.

At least it’s fun to watch Hiroto’s confused expression when his punches don’t increase in power.

Cherish the small things in life and all that.

Hiroto hits him in the jaw and on the temple before something else catches his attention.

Or rather, someone.

Izuku straightens from taking the last punch (it’s always best to follow the direction of the hit instead of just staying still. It will lessen the impact) and looks in the direction Hiroto had zeroed in, the bully’s hearty laughter already filling his ears.

Oh, great. What the hell is he still doing here? Is he stupid or plain masochistic?

‘You’re one to talk’ whispers a voice in his head that could be the warped remains of his self-preservation. Good to know that his sarcastic tendencies have grown to include his conscience.

Halfway down the hallway, frozen like a deer waiting for the car to hit it, stands Botan. Botan is one year older than Izuku, but you couldn’t tell by looking at him. He’s a scrawny kid, always hunched on himself, seemingly frightened by his shadow, and he used to be the school’s target practice before Izuku came around. This was probably due to his quirk, which Izuku once heard Hiroto refer to as ‘the most useless quirk in existence’ and it didn’t help that Botan and Hiroto are in the same class. Izuku doesn’t know what it is, but it must have something to do with flowers because on the first day he saw Hiroto & Co. shoving some in his face before locking him in a supply closet (Izuku had waited the start of the next lesson to go and unlock the door with the excuse of going to the bathroom, then disappeared before the boy could see him).

Now, normally it wouldn’t matter that Botan is here, since Izuku has taken the mantle of Official Punching Bag five minutes after setting foot in the school for the first time, but, apparently, something happened yesterday that changed the dynamic.

Izuku knows this because someone decided to tape a poorly written death notice with the boy’s scared face dated yesterday to the bulletin board at the entrance. He thought it was just another cruel prank, but Botan must be in more serious trouble than he imagined.

Hiroto seems to completely forget about Izuku as he steps toward Botan, slowly and purposefully, his eyes and evil grin spelling out to everyone that he will take his revenge and he will enjoy it. All the students have stopped in their tracks and step aside to let Hiroto walk to his prey, an illusion of silence descending on the corridor, the loud conversations between friends decreasing to a low muttering as everyone comments the scene and recalls the events of the previous day.

It makes Izuku sick, and he’s actually surprised that something like this still gets a reaction out of him that isn’t cold detachment.

Botan, contrarily to what any person of sense would do, just stands there, shaking with fear and clutching his bag for dear life.

Hiroto’s grin just widens as he keeps advancing. He spreads his arms with a theatrical flair and shouts, revelling in the attention, “I admit, I didn’t think you had the guts to show your face. Did you like the notice at the entrance? I made it myself.”

Guess we can cross out graphic designer as a possible future career, too.

“I-, I-“ chokes out Botan, trembling so much his vocal chords seem to stop working.

“What?”, says Hiroto, now in front of him and bending slightly at the waist to face the smaller boy, “Want to call your mom and tell the principal about it?”

Oh fuck. He’s screwed.

And really, what the hell was he thinking? He reported Hiroto to the principal? How did he think this would go, mh? And, even if he didn’t realise how poorly that would go, why the fuck did he show up today? For fuck’s sake, his death notice is taped at the entrance! ‘Oh look, that looks a lot like my death notice! Let’s go in and say ‘hi’ to the bully who typed it!’ Turn around and run the opposite way, dumbass!

Why are people so stupid?

Hiroto is straightening now, that same wicked look in his eyes. He grabs the front of Botan’s uniform so he can’t get away and raises his fist, the faint yellow light Izuku recognizes as his quirk activating encasing his arm.

Fuck, this doesn’t look good. He’s going to kill him for real this time.

Izuku’s brain starts blaring alarms in his head, his mind getting rid of the last shreds of the detachment he had fallen in during Hiroto’s beating. He still hasn’t fully understood what happened to make the bully so furious, a report to the principal hardly does it, but he can see that Hiroto isn’t planning to pull his punches. No one is going to intervene. He doesn’t think he’s aiming at killing him, but his quirk is no joke, Botan is clearly terrified, and a tragic ending seems more likely than usual.

Izuku’s eyes shift to the clock on the wall above the two, Hiroto’s cackle filling his ears as his arm lights up even more.

Two minutes to the bell. Just two minutes. Hiroto’s punches can do a lot of damage in this amount of time, but a couple of minutes is still little time. Perfect for a little distraction. But what? He can’t just provoke him, or it would be his death notice at the door tomorrow. And why does he care? Botan has been nothing short of delighted that someone else took his place. That’s probably why he got cocky enough to report Hiroto to the principal. Oh, fuck this.

And because he is stupid and hypocritical, he does the very thing he should never do.

“Hey, Hiro-chan, I thought you wanted to be at the same level of your brother” he shouts, and the whole school seems to really go quiet this time. “You said he has a big operation tomorrow. I think I know which one”, he continues, scrambling for clues. If this goes how he hopes, Hiroto would give him all the details to make a vague enough assumption and imply that he actually knows what he’s talking about. Hiroto is clearly close to his big brother, add in a little mockery with the nickname and that’s an easy way to catch his attention.

And it does.

Hiroto freezes, light dissipating around his arm. Botan slowly opens the eyes he had scrunched shut, looking at him with both hope and panic. He has to make Hiroto drop him.

“And what do you think you know, shitface? There’s no way you would know anything about it!” he growls, face turning slightly towards him.

Fair point. Ok, Izuku, think. He knows Hiroto’s relatives aren’t really villains, more like small-time criminals. What were the exact words?

‘You know, scum, I’m quite happy today. My brother will be in a big operation tomorrow. I can’t let him down. I have to be at top form for when he will let me help him.’

So, big operation. ‘Be in’ so he’s not the leader, nor the strategist. Hiroto didn’t brag two days ago, and he presented it as news, but he lives with his brother who evidently has no qualms with sharing details about his deeds to his little sibling. So Big-Hiroto was made aware of the operation just the day before it’s planned to happen. That definitely means he’s not at the core of the scheme and probably whoever hired him wants to keep the brawn as ignorant as possible to avoid leaks. Little-Hiroto is happy, so it’s not the usual low-level thugs grouping together for something as simple as pay-back against a gang. It must be something he could consider significant, something more complex than a street brawl. Plus, if the operation really is ‘big’ it is likely that the leader is not in lack of money, especially if he wants the hired goons to keep quiet about it. Rich and new leader also presumably equals not from around here, or Hiroto’s legacy would have already known about them.

Well, let’s play.

“I know it involves many people. I’ve heard the leader isn’t so well-known, but they're powerful. And I know for a fact they promise to pay well”, ok he’s laying it a bit thick, but go big or go home, right?

It seems to work, because Hiroto immediately drops Botan, who falls to the ground like a new-born calf, and turns to fully face him.

“How? Who told you about it?” he spits out, his tone betraying a tiny drop of panic in an ocean of boiling, encompassing fury.

You did, dipshit.

“I heard two people talk about it yesterday near my house. They said the job looked suspicious because of how little information was given them.”, when Hiroto doesn’t seem to read between the lines, he mentally sighs and adds, “They were afraid it was a trap. From the cops.”

Seriously, do I have to spell it out more?

Hiroto seems to finally catch on and his eyes widen comically. What’s not comical at all is the way he’s now stalking towards Izuku, his rage palpable in the air.

“Listen here, you quirkless piece of sh-“ he starts.

Then the bell finally rings, cutting him off, and Izuku doesn’t waste a second to book it out of that hallway.

Great. Now I’ve done it. What the hell was I thinking? I’m not a hero and I overreacted. Botan would have just taken a beating and now I wouldn’t have to deal with being tracked down the whole day for information I don’t even have!

He feels Hiroto’s furious stare on his back as he goes away (but misses how his eyes narrow and he starts whispering to his two lackies).

**

Izuku magically manages to avoid Hiroto both during recess and lunch, although not for lack of trying on the bully’s part.

As soon as the last bell rings he runs from his classroom and goes to hide in the supply closet near the old science labs in the basement. When Hiroto won’t find him, he will assume he’s already gotten away and is on the way home. He just has to wait a while until the other inevitably runs out of patience and gives up on finding him, then he can exit the closet and finally go home.

God, the last two days feel like a decade and I’m not even done with the second one.

After 30 minutes, he finally deems it safe enough to slowly peak out of the closet door and make his way to the exit. The school is totally empty right now, as he expected.

Almost totally, apparently, because when he reaches the gates there’s someone clearly waiting. His thoughts immediately go to Hiroto, but then he recognises the figure standing just outside the entrance, nervously shuffling his feet and glancing at his phone every 15 seconds.

He passes by Botan without a word, since he’s well aware no one wants to speak with him. Some think his quirklessness will infect them, others simply don’t even acknowledge his existence.

However, as soon as Botan seems to realise Izuku’s the one in front of him, he immediately snaps to attention and starts walking to catch up with him.

“Midoriya! I was waiting for you!” he says, voice just as nervous as he looks.

Izuku doesn’t bother responding, just looking at him. He knows the other’s not here to thank him, so it doesn’t make sense that the boy would wait for him.

At his lack of response, Botan seems to become even more anxious, if it’s possible, and fumbles with the strap of his bag, gaze firmly planted on the floor.

“I- I wanted to ask you something, actually. You see, I- mh, well, after what happened yesterday and today with H-Hiroto, I wanted to ask you if you could please, ehm, stay with me when I go home. I don’t want to go back alone. Hiroto and I, you know, we went to the same Middle School, so he knows where I live and I don’t want to…” he doesn’t finish the sentence, but the meaning is clear. Izuku’s expression softens a little, but he’s still weary.

People don’t ask him for help. People don’t wait for him 30 minutes after school let out and don’t tell him ‘please’.

Izuku stops and turns to face him, “Why are you asking me?”

Botan still won’t meet his gaze, anxiety making him wriggle his hands, “Because no one else would do it. And- and I got what you did this morning. I don’t know what he would have done to me if you hadn’t distracted him” he says, and the fear coating his voice makes a wave of pity surge inside of Izuku.

Well, you already came this far. It’s just a walk.

So Izuku nods and the sheer relief in Botan’s expression makes it clear just how much he was afraid of what could happen on the way home.

Mh, maybe Hiroto found him at lunch at threatened him. It’s not unlikely.

They start walking in silence and Izuku ignores the fact that, even though the other realised what he did for him, still no ‘thank you’ seemed about to be uttered in his direction.

Not that he expected as much.

After the first five minutes, curiosity gets the better of him and he asks, “Can I ask you what you did to get him so angry? He looked really mad.”

Botan startles so hard at his voice he jumps a foot in the air.

He’s going to have a stroke at 22 if he doesn’t learn to calm down a little.

“Oh, yeah, well. Ehm, the second day of school, after you showed up, Hiroto didn’t even acknowledge me. He just, you know, left me in peace.”

Izuku doesn’t know, because there has never been someone lower than him, someone that bullies would focus their attention on rather than him. But he doesn’t say this, and Botan continues, like he isn’t basically telling him he’s glad that Izuku was the unluckiest one at the genetic roulette.

“So, I thought that maybe he would stop. That this year and maybe even the next I would be able to just live my life at school without the bullying and everything.”

Izuku feels the cold of detachment settle in his chest once again at that second ‘maybe’.

He remembers the second day. He had gotten a grip of what the next three years would be for him. High School was worse than Middle School under many aspects, one of which was that people didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t like Middle School, where students were still afraid of bad marks on their records to really go all out on him. They didn’t want to be prevented from going to their dream school the next year just because of the little quirkless boy. Even if they all knew the teachers wouldn’t particularly care, they never went too far, they pulled their punches.

In High School not. It was like this that he discovered of Hiroto’s family business. He came up to him on the first day, when the list with the new students was hanged on the bulletin board, ‘Quirkless’ in bold red letters near his name, and told him how things were going to go from then on. He then proceeded to gloat about how he was the Alpha Asshole and why. Then he roughed him up a bit.

The real thing started on the second day, though. The beating had been brutal. That plus the behaviour of his new ‘teachers’ was the reason he had chosen to skip the third day entirely.

But Botan continues, unaware of the thoughts in Izuku’s head.

“But then you weren’t at school yesterday, and Hiroto came back. I was using my phone and he grabbed it and smashed it on the ground. It was new. And I thought this year would be different, so when I got home I told my mom and she went to the principal. They couldn’t ignore her because she is friend with one of the members of the school board, so the principal apparently called Hiroto and gave him detention. It was nothing, really, he just had to stay yesterday afternoon and help cleaning the other classes, but he was furious.” He’s still looking at his shoes and Izuku doesn’t know if he’s supposed to say something.

Honestly, that was a dumb move, but he doesn’t think Botan would be glad to hear it.

So, he just stays silent and they keep walking.

They are heading in the direction opposite Izuku’s house and he internally sighs.

It will take a while to get back.

He’s been in this area just a few times, it’s not one of the nicest ones and, even if he doesn’t live in the best neighbourhood, his is still better than this one.

It’s odd, actually. Botan is clearly more well-off than most people at their school. He wears nice clothes, and he said his mother knows a member of the school board, so I expected something else entirely.

Something is starting to feel wrong. Botan is still glancing at his phone every few minutes, even if he tries to be sneaky about it, and, despite the fact that they must be near his home by now, he seems to be getting more anxious instead of less.

His worrying thoughts are interrupted by Botan who suddenly stops near a convenience store and points at the alley beside it.

“We’re almost there. My house is on the other side of this alley” he says, before starting to walk deeper down said alley.

Izuku stands on the sidewalk, only now realizing how late it’s gotten. The sky is darker now, only a faint light to signal where the sun has set, and the walls on both side of the narrow street Botan disappeared in are so close that the alley itself is even darker.

Yeah, no way I’m going in there.

“Botan-kun?” he calls, voice uncertain.

No response comes.

Izuku is debating what to do next when someone suddenly pushes him from behind, making him stumble into the alley and put a hand on the wall to right himself before face-planting.

Shit, shit, shit.

He’s panicking. He can feel his breath getting shallower and his heart beating quicker.

Flashes pass behind his eyelids: green sludge engulfing him, constricting his body and reducing the world to a slimy, sticky, and disgusting sensation, his lungs feeling about to explode, the pain in his throat, a burn on the shoulder, explosions searing his skin, the sound of a fist hitting flesh-

He is jerked back to reality by rough hands grabbing at the front of his uniform and slamming him against a wall, the hot breath of his assailant some mere centimetres from his face.

“Here you are, little shit. You thought you were smarter than me, uh?” the hands slam him against the wall again, pain exploding at the back of his head.

He needs to calm down.

You know that voice, Izuku. You know it. Focus on that. Gather information. Do what you always do.

With a lot of effort, he tries to calm enough to place the voice before daring opening his eyes. One thing at a time. The voice.

“You don’t talk anymore, now, do you?”, he's too close, too close, he can’t do this. He needs air, he needs to breathe a moment, just a moment, then he can restart his brain. He just needs to breathe.

“Well, luckily for you, I want you to talk now. Tell me everything you know about tomorrow operation and maybe this will be less painful for you” the voice says, still too close, some spit landing on his mouth and making him even more frantic.

Then, his brain catches on something. ‘Operation’? Wait…

His eyes widen suddenly and he finally sees his attacker. Hiroto.

Despite the situation, relief washes over him.

It’s Hiroto, just Hiroto. Just a high school bully.

He seems to have dismissed the situation too quickly, because when he finally focuses on the figure in front of him, Hiroto’s expression is pure, unadulterated rage.

Looks like he didn’t like me avoiding him today.

Another voice interrupts the staring match, somewhere to the left of Izuku.

“Hey, Hiroto, what do we do with this loser?” says the young voice, and Izuku turns his head to see the two lackies who were behind Hiroto that morning, holding Botan between them. The teen in question looks ready to jump out of his skin and immediately starts to shout, “Please, please, I did what you asked! I brought him here! You said you would leave me alone!”

This bitch.

In front of him, Hiroto shrugs, “Just send him home with a few bruises. I don’t care. I have shit to do with this scum”.

Bodan goes back to screaming, but the sound is soon muffled.

“Now, let’s get to the point. What do you know?” he says, grip tightening on Izuku’s uniform.

Izuku swallows, “Just what I told you this morning, I swear. I only heard those two guys discussing it for, like, two minutes. They talked about the pay and the lack of information. One of them said he found it suspicious and the other dismissed him. That’s all”. He realises the other’s not going to believe him the moment he sees Hiroto’s arm being surrounded by a faint light, evident in the dark of the alley.

Hiroto smirks, “I don’t believe you”, and it’s clear he’s not going to, whatever Izuku might say. He probably doesn’t even care about his answer. This was always going to go in one way.

Hiroto punches him in the stomach, then in the face, splitting his lip. Izuku falls to the ground, and that’s his mistake. He knows it. He’s just a easier target.

Hiroto knows it, too.

The next few minutes are a haze of pain, a couple of hits to head making him dizzy and his vision blurred. Here and there he hears Hiroto shouting some more questions, but his answer stays the same and so does Hiroto’s reaction.

“I don’t know anything, I swear”, he splutters out some time later, blood tickling down his face and mind fuzzy, his head feeling like it’s splitting open. Tears are streaming down his face, and he hates it.

Hiroto grabs him from his uniform once again, lifting him from the ground to scream in his face, “Tell me what you know about the attack on USJ!”.

Wait, USJ?

Then Hiroto drops him. He hits his head on something hard and everything goes black.

**

When Izuku comes to, the first thing to register is pain. A lot of it. His head is pulsing, pangs of pain radiate from his shoulder the moment he tries to move his left arm, and he has to clamp his mouth shut to avoid screaming.

He opens his eyes slowly and is partially glad to see the sky has gone completely dark. His head couldn’t handle light at the moment.

Still laying on the ground, he tries to take stock of his injuries: his head is probably the worst off, possibly with a concussion and almost certainly a few cuts to disinfect. His shoulder hurts like a bitch, but it doesn’t feel dislodged, so there’s that. His chest hurts a little, but nothing worrying, but his belly definitely will have some extensive bruising. He can faintly recall Hiroto kicking him at some point, so that is probably the cause.  At an experimental touch he discovers that his nose isn’t broken, but he is likely sporting an impressive black eye, his lower lip his split and his eyebrow has some dried blood on it, so probably a cut there.

His legs feel fine, though.

‘Yeah, your legs are fine, pity everything else is fucked.’ A voice in his head whispers, and really, what purpose does the splitting headache serve if it can’t even make his brain shut up?

Slowly and carefully, he gets to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall.

He grabs his backpack (which is surprisingly still there) and puts it on his good shoulder before staggering out of the alley in the direction of the convenience store he remembers being on one side.

It takes an enormous amount of effort, but he reaches the door of the store. He doesn’t have the energy to raise his hood, and he honestly doesn’t give a flying fuck of what people might think of him at the moment. He needs water, maybe food, and medical supplies. He has some in his bag, but they aren’t enough.

The bell at the door announces his presence and he glances at the cashier, who doesn’t even raise his gaze from his phone. Good.

He walks through the aisles and gathers everything he needs, glad he has more money with him now that he stopped buying hero merch. This thought reminds him that a normal teen would text his mom now, but he dismisses the idea quickly.

She probably hasn’t even noticed I didn’t come back.

He starts walking to the counter and tries to recall exactly what happened. His memory is a bit hazy.

He remembers that morning, Hiroto coming to him and Botan-

Botan.

He had tricked him.

God, I’m so dumb. Haven’t 15 years of existence taught me anything? How could I fall for it?! It was so obvious! What did I think? Still trying to be the hero? Someone comes to me asking for help and I fucking bluescreen?

He would keep berating himself if it didn’t take so much mental effort. But there’s something gnawing at him. Something Hiroto said. Something important. He racks his brain over it, but his memories are just blurred flashes and shouts.

He stops thinking about it once he gets to the counter, having to put all his concentration in taking his wallet from the bag and placing the articles on the register.

The teen behind the counter raises his eyes with a bored expression and does a double take when he sees his face.

“Oh my god. Are you ok?” he asks, then immediately flinches, his voice deep and a little scratchy. It’s the most amazing thing Izuku has ever heard. It’s low without seeming unfitting for someone so young. The round sounds are both clear and slightly gruff. Izuku has only heard him say six words but they’re enough to tell that it’s the best voice he will ever hear in his whole life, despite the even and bored tone of the teen.

Ok, maybe the concussion is a little more than ‘possible’.

That same amazing voice startles him out of his reverie, “Sorry, that was a stupid question”, he says, still looking at Izuku’s face while he starts scanning the articles.

“There are some kids around here lately that always cause some trouble. I assume it was them. Hiroko or something and his friends” the cashier says in the same even tone, even if Izuku thinks he can detect a bit of worry.

He nods, “Yes” he replies, and immediately cringes at the croak that comes out of his mouth. Compared to the other’s smooth voice it sounds even worse. “His name is Hiroto. I don’t actually know how his friends are called, but, honestly, I don’t particularly care.” He adds.

The cashier looks even more worried after hearing his voice, his flat gaze showing hints of concern. “I don’t want to meddle, but maybe you should go to the hospital. No offense, but you look a light breeze away from collapsing”. Izuku laughs at this, but he immediately winces and stops when every part of his body screams at the sudden movement.

He instinctually brings a hand to his stomach as he tries to calm the pain, then looks at the cashier and replies “Oh no, don’t worry. I’m going to be just fine. I just have to go home and rest a bit”.

The teen at the counter looks at him. Blinks.

Izuku blinks back.

After a few seconds, the other asks, “Do you have a vague idea of how you look right now? Because, let me tell you, you don’t look like ‘I have to go home and rest’. More like ‘I need an X-ray and a CT scan’ or maybe ‘I’m gonna keel over right now and pass out on your floor’.”

Izuku tries a wobbly smile, “I don’t think a hospital is a good idea”, he takes a deep breath before muttering “I’m quirkless”.

The teen grimaces but hides it well, “Ah, shit. I see your point. Well, then, I can help you myself if you want. I’m not the best but I have some experience with first aid. And in the condition you are now, you’re going to need a lot of help, my dude”.

Izuku is stunned into silence. What?

“You- you want to help me?” he narrows his eyes and looks at him distrustfully, “Is this a trick? Because, honestly, I’m not in the mood today”.

The other makes a face that is an interesting mix between affronted and horrified “Dude, if I had the energy to trick someone it would be my brain to convince it to let me catch some sleep.” He replies, deadpan.

Izuku studies him for a moment longer. His brain is slow.

The teen is right: he needs help, and his house is a good walk away and he will never be able to get there as he is now. He’s never seen him before in his life and he was worried even before Izuku told him he’s quirkless, so a prank seems unlikely. Still, it seemed unlikely the last time too and here he is.

The guy seems to sense his indecision and adds “You may have a concussion. You need someone to check on you every once in a while for those. There’s a small cot in the back. You can crash there. My shift ends at 4 am and I usually sleep here after because it’s closer to my school. I can check on you and tomorrow when you’re better you can head home”.

Izuku raises his eyebrows, even if the motion hurts “You are offering me to sleep in a shady backroom with someone I just met while I am incapacitated?”

The other isn’t fazed by the insinuation “We must be more or less the same age, it’s not like I’m a wrinkly old man with greasy hair. Plus, it’s either this or you pass out on a street somewhere between here and your house”.

Izuku can admit it looks like the most plausible outcome.

Oh, fuck it. Can it really get worse than this?

He does a weird half-shrug because is left shoulder hurts too much to do a whole one and says “Fine, ok. Thanks.”

The cashier is briefly stunned, like he didn’t actually expect Izuku to agree, then he stands up and gestures for Izuku to follow him to the back.

He makes him sit on the cot and starts treating his injuries. They don’t talk much, Izuku too tired and in pain to say anything and the other teen focused on his work.

When he finishes putting a band-aid on his eyebrow, the other stands up and gathers the supplies. “Now you should sleep. I’ll wake you every hour or so to check on you”

Izuku nods, only half aware of the world around him, exhaustion pulling at his limbs and making him lay down on the cot. Before drifting off, he manages to mutter, “Thank you. By the way, I’m Izuku. Midoriya Izuku”.

He sees the other offering him a little smile before replying “Name’s Shinsou Hitoshi. Sleep well, Midoriya”.

**

Shinsou wakes him every hour or so like he promised, even if Izuku finds it hard to wake up.

In the morning, he’s awakened once again by the cashier.

“Midoriya, c’mon. It’s 7 am. I have to go to school.” Says Shinsou’s perfect voice, and Izuku forces his eyelids open.

“Mhmm. Life sucks” is his bright reply once the events of the previous day register in his head.

Shinsou chuckles and starts walking to the front, “I mean, you’re not wrong”.

Izuku gets up slowly, his injuries flaring with pain. He manages to stand up in time to see Shinsou coming back with a cup of what smells like coffee in his hand.

The purple-haired boy grins at him over the rim of the cup, “Congrats, you made it through the night.”

“How did you? You said you shift ended at 4 am. Did you only sleep three hours?” he asks, now wondering about the contents of the mug. Living on coffee and three hours of sleep seems suspicious.

Shinsou looks him in the eyes and mutters in the flattest tone ever “Sleep is for the weak” before taking a loud sip from the mug. Now Izuku’s certain that isn’t just coffee.

“Anyway, thank you for helping me yesterday. You didn’t have to. It was really nice of you” he says, and he means it. No one would have done something like this for him.

The other shrugs, clearly uncomfortable “It was nothing”.

It really wasn’t, but Izuku doesn’t want to make him even more awkward, so he keeps quiet.

Shinsou glances at the clock on the wall and says “I have to leave in a few minutes. UA doesn’t joke on punctuality”.

Izuku freezes in surprise from where he was grabbing his backpack, “You go to UA?” ha asks.

The other boy nods, “Yeah. Why? Do you also go there?”

He ignores the pang to his chest at that questions, “Oh no, just cur-“. Suddenly, a memory flashes through his mind, ‘Tell me what you know about the attack on USJ!’

Oh fuck! Seriously?

“Fuck. I need my phone. Where’s my phone?” he blurts, already rummaging through his backpack.

Shinsou gets closer to him, a confused frown of his face, “What? Is something wrong?”

Izuku doesn’t answer, just curses when his phone refuses to turn on. The battery has run out.

“Yes. Something is very wrong. I need your phone. Please” he tells him quickly, extending a hand. Shinsou takes his phone from his pocket and hands it to him and he immediately logs in his underground account, writing an email to Nedzu. Short but effective.

Once the email is done, he types his number in Shinsou’s phone and gives it back.

“You have to get to UA as fast as you can. I would come with you, but I would slow you down. As soon as you get there, go to Principal Nedzu and tell him Hiruko says that the target is the USJ, today. I sent him an email, but he may not read it in time.” He frantically tells him, urgency evident in his tone.

“Target for what? Are you Hiruko? I thought your name was Izuku.” Shinsou says, clearly baffled by the situation.

“I am Hiruko. And Izuku. Don’t tell him that, though. Just tell him that Hiruko says the target is the USJ. And target because I think villains are going to attack it today.” He tries to convey the seriousness of the situation with the firmest voice he can muster, and it seems to work.

“Villains are going to attack the USJ? Are you sure? You should tell the police!”

“They wouldn’t believe me. C’mon they would think it’s a prank. Especially once they ask my name and see that I’m quirkless. We can’t call UA for the same reason, with the added problem that the villain could have placed a bug in the phone line when they infiltrated the other day to prevent someone from warning them. You have to go. Now, Shinsou. Once you have given your message, text me. Let me know what happens, ok?”

The purple-haired teen doesn’t look ok. There’s panic in his eyes, he’s not focusing.

Izuku places his hands on the other’s shoulders, even if his shoulder is screaming at him, “Shinsou. Listen to me. You can do this. Classes haven’t started yet. You have time. But you have to focus. Don’t panic. Think straight. You can do this. I know you can”.

This seems to shake him from his shock, and Shinsou nods. “You’re right. I have to calm down. I will give Nedzu the message and then text you.” He says, his voice firmer than before.

Izuku smiles at him and then they hurry out of the store and go their separate ways with only a parting nod.

**

Hitoshi barges through the door of Nedzu’s office, not stopping to knock or take a breath after running all the way from the station to the school.

“Principal Nedzu! Sorry, but this is important. Hiruko told me to tell you that the target is the USJ, and the attack is planned for today! I know you probably won’t believe me, but he said he wrote you an email and you can check it!” ha manages to blurt out before he runs out of breath.

It’s only then that he realises there’s other people in the room. Yamada-sensei, a gaunt looking blond man, Thirteen, Vlad King and – oh my God – Eraserhead.

Yamada-sensei, his homeroom teacher, looks at him frowning slightly and says “Shinsou? How do you know about the attack?” They all turn to stare at him, and he feels his hackles rising a bit at the attention. Then, Nedzu breaks the tension with a chipper tone that seems incredibly inappropriate both for this hour of the morning and the seriousness of the situation.

“No need to worry! I received the email earlier this morning at we are already planning how to deal with this emergency! Look for yourself!” he says, turning the computer screen so that Shinsou can see the email on it.

 

From: [email protected]

To: Me

Subject: !!

 

It’s USJ. Today.

Hiruko

Chapter Text

The plan is going seamlessly, everything exactly as calculated (if with some minor inconvenience in the form of a giant, blue, and bulking monster), up until when the leader, the one with disturbing hands all over him, decides to cut his tantrum short and starts attacking.

And, of course, because his life is just like this, he heads for Shouta.

Unluckily for the villain, it took exactly half a second for the underground hero to realise that he was the one Hiruko had described, so he already knows his quirk and is particularly careful to avoid contact.

They start to trade blows, Shouta’s years of fighting experience making it easier for him to deflect and dodge the villain’s hits. Still, the man is surprisingly fast and quite skilled in his peculiar fighting style, his blows open-handed and his body movements adjusting to the need to not hit, but grab.

Of course, even when he manages to lay all five fingers on Shouta, it’s pretty useless if Erasure is active.

Around them, Shouta hears the sounds of his colleagues fighting, subduing the thugs with little effort, everything accompanied by the increasing shockwaves coming from his left, where All Might is fighting that bird-like monster.

Still, the only sound he cares about, the one that his brain picks up the most, will always be Hizashi’s voice, both Quirked and not.

His husband his dealing with some goons behind him, using only small bouts of his Quirk to avoid injuring the other heroes present.

Shouta's eyes are straining, but he knows they won’t be going at this for much longer. Most of the villains are already incapacitated, and it’s clear the only ones actually problematic are Hand-Man, the teleporter and the thing All Might is fighting.

He chances a glance in his direction, a pained shout catching his attention, and the villain in front of him immediately jumps to the opening, closing in quickly and grabbing at his forearm.

Shouta activates Erasure the next moment, but pain is already flaring from the point of contact up his arm, the skin flaking away oddly slowly, seemingly in slow motion compared to the chaos around them. As the particles of dust that were once his arm quietly drop to the ground, Shouta and the villain stare at each other. They are at a stand-off.

The villain knows he will have to blink eventually, so he holds onto his arm tightly, a triumphant grin already showing on his face. Shouta knows that struggling to free his arm will likely only result in him having to blink even earlier, so one chance remains.

It’s on, douchebag.

The flakes of dust settle on the ground, and, just a millisecond before he has to give some reprieve to his strained eyes, he moves.

He doesn’t need to have his eyes open to raise his leg in the narrow space between them and kick the other’s knee to make him lose his balance, while simultaneously striking out with his other hand to hit the villain’s wrist just right, the grip on his arm vanishing instantly, together with that smug grin.

Now it’s Shouta the one with the unsettling grin and, not to brag, but his is far more terrifying.

Hand-Man is sporting a satisfying scowl, for his part.

The underground hero wastes no time, taking advantage of his opponent’s souring mood. The villain has already demonstrated he is especially prone to letting his temper taking over his reason, so the fact that his attack didn’t go as well as planned is doubly good for Shouta.

“You are cool, Eraserhead, but I didn’t come here for you”, the man says, still trading blows with him so quickly they’re especially hard to follow. Not that it’s a problem for Shouta, but still, “I’m getting bored. I want to watch All Might’s fall”.

He doesn’t bother responding: he has had to deal with bratty teenagers for years now, and today is not the day he lowers himself to their level, no matter how deadly or dangerous they are.

Shouta is aiming a blow at his temple after a feint to the side when he hears another scream for the general direction All Might should be fighting in.

He doesn’t make the same rooky mistake twice, tough, keeping his focus on the villain in front of him, who is now back to grinning wildly, “Seems like I won't have to wait long” he says, grating voice cheerful.

Shit, All Might may be in some serious trouble.

Luckily, on their team is a powerful long-range attack specialist, one he spent his high school years with. The same years that were full of group exercises, mission or whatnot, all of which could benefit for a code that the opponents didn’t understand.

So, Shouta takes a deep breath and shouts, “Yellow!” even if it will make him look bat-shit crazy.

Behind him, he can hear his husband’s reply, “Just-“,  the sound of a heavy boot meeting flesh, “One-“ a cut-off scream, “Second!” the loud thud of something hitting the ground.

Shouta doesn’t take his eyes off of Hand-Man, who is still trying his luck at grabbing him in the moment in which his quirk gives out, his deadly hands never stopping in their assault.

He hears Hizashi moving and looking around him.

“Oh, I see” the blonde mutters lowly, before letting out the first proper Scream since the fight began.

The code was really simple. They had soon figured out that shouting each other’s names could be too distracting, plus the opponents would immediately know who was going to intervene and how. So, they decided for a neutral word, one that wouldn’t immediately make the other panic if shouted during a fight. ‘Yellow’ was the word for ‘me or someone else needs help, not a fatal situation’. This way, they also didn’t attract the attention of the other villains on the one who was in danger.

Hizashi must have found the source of the problem, and Shouta couldn’t be gladder for the protective hear-buds his agency provided. They were hardly perfect, in fact, they could handle just Hizashi’s medium-power attacks, and only a couple of them before breaking, but it was still one of the most useful support items Shouta had ever seen.

He is still trying to incapacitate Hand-Man when he hears the loud Smash and the sound of glass shattering. In a second, a portal opens under the villain, and he disappears. Shouta recovers quickly from his momentary shock and looks around to see what happened.

The scene is more or less as he expected it: the goons are in various states of incapacitation on the ground, some already handcuffed, some otherwise bound and some simply unconscious. They almost form a human-circle around them, since the majority of them were intercepted while they tried to reach the central plaza from the different Disaster Zones.

Shouta takes quickly stock of his colleagues, checking for injured: Hizashi seems pretty fine, even if at a closer look Shouta notices he’s only putting his weight on one leg, so a sprain, probably. Ectoplasm looks as unfazed as always, maybe a little short of breath. Snipe has some minor cuts on his arms, Midnight a larger one on the shoulder, but still nothing to worry about. He can’t see Cementoss, but he will probably be here soon.

The oddest one is All Might, though. He’s staring down with a smug and determined expression at the two villains still standing, Hand-Man and the teleporter, but his body is emitting steam, even if it’s difficult to tell among the dust from the fight.

He’s reached his limit. How? He has three hours, and the fight can’t have lasted more than 15 minutes!

Ok, three options: 1) All Might’s an idiot and ran out of time this morning before they were called to the meeting with Nedzu; 2) All Might’s half an idiot and ran out of some of his time this morning and the injuries from the fight aggravated him so much that he’s going to deflate earlier; 3) All Might isn’t an idiot (yeah, sure) and the fight was simply too straining for him.

Shouta is leaning toward option n.2, but doesn’t matter the answer, they can’t allow the villains to see his true form.

His assessment took barely seconds, so he tunes back in just in time to hear the teleporter speak.

“Shigaraki Tomura, I believe it’s better if we take our leave.” Shouta has no idea how he’s able to speak, seen the quite obvious lack of a mouth, but stranger things have happened.

“NO! No, no, no! The info was wrong! He should have been weaker! The brats aren’t even here!” Hand-Man, or Shigaraki apparently, is throwing another tantrum, shouting and looking at the heroes gathered frantically, crazed eyes darting from a person to the other behind the hideous disembodied hand on his face.

Beside Shouta, Snipe raises his guns and Midnight her whip, Ectoplasm readying a couple of his clones.

“Surrender! Put your hands behind your head and cease the hostilities!” shouts Snipe, guns at the ready, aimed at the leader…

…who doesn’t even seem to notice.

Shigaraki is still muttering and looking around wildly. Then, abruptly, he stops. He goes still, head raising from where it was hunched between his shoulders, now straightened, and his mouth shuts.

“Someone cheated” Shigaraki whispers, barely loud enough for Shouta to hear. “Someone cheated! They knew! They used an Anti-Aim! This is BM!” he starts shouting and Shouta doesn’t even pretend to understand the terms he’s using, but one thing he understands is that the villain figured out they were waiting for him.

Well, it wasn’t that hard to get.

It would have been better if he believed it was only a normal increase in security after the infiltration, but Nedzu didn’t have much hope about it, and neither did the teachers.  

I’d say it’s time to wrap this up.

All Might seems to think the same, because he interrupts the new tantrum with his booming and deceptively steady voice, “Enough! Surrender or we will have to use force!”.

The Number One Hero’s body is letting out more and more steam by the second, and the teleporter is getting more nervous, probably hitching to take them away, so Shouta slowly and inconspicuously gets closer to them, eyes fixed on the dark figure.

He moves cautiously, trying not to attract the attention of the two villains. They have to be quick. He can only hold the teleporter so much before he will have to blink, so they have a handful of seconds to secure Shigaraki and find a way to incapacitate the other one.

A walk in the park, basically.

He’s just five metres away when three things happen simultaneously.

Cementoss bursts through the doors, fighting stance ready.

Shigaraki loses the last of his patience and jumps toward All Might, hands outstretched.

All Might lets out a bout of steam, the one that would find him deflated once it has dispersed.

The actions have each their consequences.

The sound of the doors opening spooks the teleporter who probably says, ‘Fuck it’ and opens a portal to take Shigaraki away, but Shouta was waiting, his quirk flaring, and the attempt fails. The villain literally flickers and stumbles, his hands going to his head.

At the same moment, four shots fire out from behind him, Snipe aiming at Shigaraki’s joints, but only two reach their target.

This is because the other two are now embedded in a cement wall separating All Might from the villain.

The same wall that blocks Shouta’s sight of the teleporter.

Half a second later, Shigaraki’s pained shouts from behind the wall stop abruptly, the sound disappearing together with the two villains.

A walk in the park, indeed.

**

Hizashi sits on the steps of USJ, only half listening to the conversation in front of him between Nedzu and Detective Tsukauchi, absent-mindedly moving the honey candy in his mouth with his tongue in that loud way that Shouta hates.

His right ankle is only lightly sprained, and he doesn’t want to bother the EMTs with something so minor, but he won’t pass the chance to take a seat.

Shouta is at the bus, checking on his students. Obviously, none of them is injured, but, like the softie he is, his husband still went to talk to them and explain what happened, so that the students can see he’s fine and calm down now that the almost villain attack on them is over.

The plan went basically seamlessly, as many of Nedzu’s plans go. The head honcho and the teleporter still got away, but they didn’t have much hope for the teleporter in the first place.

His gaze falls to the bandages on Shouta’s forearm, where the leader grabbed him and turned his skin to literal dust. A shudder goes down his spine, but he knows well by now that dwelling on the ‘what if’s will have the only result of making him go crazy.

Instead, he stretches out on the steps and leans back a little, enjoying the sun on his face, a small smile on his lips and eyes closed.

Ah, it’s the perfect weather for a picnic! How long has it been since we had a picnic? Probably years! Unbelievable!

Sure, maybe thinking about a picnic on the scene of a villain attack is a bit odd, someone could even say insensitive, but if there’s one thing that doing three jobs has taught him is multitasking.

He already gave his statement, they have to wait to be back at UA for the debriefing, and really, the sun is so nice. Plus, if his husband can go around like a yellow caterpillar, he can definitely lay in the sun for a little while.

He stays like this for a couple of minutes before he hears someone falling with an indelicate thump beside him, the person’s gaze settling on him like a weight that he can recognize even with his eyes shut.

“You look like a cat” says Shouta’s gruff voice and Hizashi’s smile widens.

He opens an eye just enough to see his black form in the corner of his vision and replies, “I knew that would get your attention”, before laughing quite loudly at Shouta’s answering grunt.

Finally, he rights himself and turns to look at him properly, “How are the little listeners?” he asks, nodding toward the bus.

“They’re fine. Evenly split between ‘We were part of a plan to defeat villains, so cool!’ and ‘Oh my God, we were part of a plan to defeat villains’”.

Hizashi snorts, his husband’s annoyed tone telling him everything he has to know about the other’s opinion of his students’ reaction.

“They were lucky. It could have been much worse”, he replies, “We have to thank out mysterious Hiruko for this”, he adds, his voice more serious and pensive.

Shouta, being Shouta, immediately catches on it, his gaze turning inquisitive, “What’s on your mind, ‘Zashi?”

“I don’t know. This morning just feels a little surreal, you know? It’s not even the ‘villains are attacking to kill All Might’ part that seems odd, even if that’s plenty strange on its own. It’s Hiruko, the way he told us and Shinsou’s involvement that bugs me.” he tells Shouta, his husband humming thoughtfully in response.

“I get what you mean. The situation is, well, ‘unusual’ doesn’t really cover it.”

Hizashi nods, recalling the events of that morning. After Shouta received the call from Nedzu, who quite ominously only told him to get to school as soon as they could, they had entered Nedzu’s office almost running, worrying thoughts only worsened by the assumptions that flitted through their heads on the way to the school.

Nedzu looks up from his screen, not at all surprised by their entrance, “Ah, here you are! The others should be here shortly. I called you first considering the involvement of your class, Aizawa-kun”.

An irritated frown immediately comes to his husband’s face, already fed up with the secrecy and lack of details, “My class’ involvement in what?”.

Nedzu hums, his expression getting more serious, “Earlier this morning I received an email from Hiruko. It was fairly short, but the message is clear. It appears that a villain attack is planned for today, at USJ, and yours is the only class scheduled for the rescue training, since 1-B is not to go until next week.”

Hizashi freezes, glancing between Shouta and Nedzu. He sees the shift in the underground hero’s demeanour, his eyes sharpening, his stance rightening, the suppressed flash of his quirk.

“What do we know?” he asks, his tone firm and tense.

Nedzu just shakes his head, in something akin to disappointment, “Not much, I’m afraid. As I said, the email was extremely short. I obviously have my assumptions, but they are not confirmed. However, despite the little information, we have to come up with a plan of action. That is why your colleagues are also coming here”.

So, they wait. No sense starting to plan if the others aren’t there. Nedzu shows them the email and they start to make some educated guesses on the possible situation leading to it, but nothing really substantial.

Once they are finally all gathered, they get to work.

The plan is simple: deceive and conquer. Or something like that.

Unfortunately, they know that if they were to show up without students, the villains would immediately catch on, so the students will have to be there. And it will have to be 1-A, because the villains may have checked the faces of Shouta’s class in the files. USJ is also a not so favourably environment: a glass dome divided into areas that are difficult to reach. But, Nedzu soon points out a loophole they can exploit. The staircase that leads from outside to the entrance and from the entrance to the plaza is made out of good old cement. That’s Cementoss field. The students will stay in USJ only until the doors are closed. After, the villains will hopefully give the green light to start their plan and not check outside anymore. They still could, of course, but they won’t risk the students’ lives, so it’s either like this or they are discovered and the attackers retreat.

They are getting to discuss what the goal of the operation could be, when the door is slammed open by one Shinsou Hitoshi.

Hizashi is momentarily stunned, especially when his student warns them (quite loudly) about the incoming attack. Shinsou looks as stunned as him when he clearly realises the teachers were already working on it, and Hizashi definitely will question him about the matter later, but for the moment he just acts as his homeroom teacher should and sends him beck to class, telling him not to worry.

For what good that will do, anyway.

After that, they get back to speculating about the aim of the villains. That is when the Nedzu makes the most alarming statement of the morning.

“Based on the evidence, I think the two most likely objectives are Eraserhead and All Might” the principal says calmly, like he hasn’t just dropped a bombshell.

What’s more plausible, that the villains are after a basically unknown underground hero or after the Number One?

Still, it seems that that was just the most alarming statement so far, because, with comical timing, 30 seconds later Nedzu’s computer pings and they all turn to it like hounds on a bleeding prey.

Turns out Nedzu wasn’t the only on to make that assumption on the villains’ goal.

Hiruko sent an email, actually pretty confusing, about other information he had (the importance of the operation and such) and then did a full-on analysis of the possible targets, concluding that, given how scarcely known Eraserhead is, All Might is the most likely objective, even if it sounds crazy.

Hizashi personally thinks that the most unsettling part of the email was the final part, when the kid says, quoted, ‘Sorry if this makes no sense, I hit my head pretty hard recently, so it’s probably due to that. You can ignore this.’

Yeah, Shouta is right, ‘unusual’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“I just, don’t get it. How did he know? And if he knew, why did he only tell us this morning? It could be that he really didn’t care that much, but he sent a second email and-“ he pauses, frowning.

“You are thinking about that boy from your class. Shinsou, right?” Shouta says, ever the mind reader.

“Yeah. If Hiruko didn’t care, why put so much effort in telling us? How did he contact Shinsou? Why him and not, say, an adult or a police officer. Even a teacher would have been more understandable!” Hizashi answers, frustrated. It has been bugging him all morning, despite the whole villain attack thing.

Shouta hums, just looking at him with his scrutinizing gaze, “C’mon, spit it out. What is it?”

Hizashi heaves a sigh.

I love him so damn much.

“I read Shinsou’s file. He’s a foster kid, no siblings listed. This means Hiruko can’t be a biological brother, but maybe… someone he met in the system? An adoptive brother? I don’t know, but this is information you give to someone you trust. It seems absurd to think that there isn’t a link between the two. But that is also strange, because why going though all the trouble of hiding his identity if he then sends someone that can be linked to him?” the blonde muses, a hand coming to scratch at his forehead thoughtfully.

Shouta just nods and grab the hand, holding it in his tenderly.

“I guess we’ll have to ask him”.

**

Hitoshi is freaking out.

Quite understandably, I’d say.

He’s sitting at his desk, leg bouncing since the moment he was forced to settle when Thirteen came into the room, accompanied by the ominous statement of ‘Your homeroom teacher and other members of the staff have been called for an emergency, so I will stay with you for the first two hours, then you will have free period until lunch. I hope we will all get along well!’.

And really, if the vagueness of the statement wasn’t suspicious, the ‘hope we get along well :)’ did it.

Now, the two hours are almost over, Thirteen has received two highly suspicious phone calls, and Hitoshi is hitching to grab his phone and text Midoriya.

He only had time for a brief message before he had to put the phone away, and Thirteen has been pretty adamant about not using smartphones in class ‘You have to focus so it will be easier to study! Plus, no need to post any updates on social media, right?’.

Sneaky wholesome rubber-covered blackhole.

So, Hitoshi tried to calm down and focus on the lesson, but they were now at the end and, for all he knew, the lessons could have been about the best way to cook marshmallows.

The clock is ticking frustratingly slowly. He knows Izuku answered his text from the concerning amount of buzzes in his pocket more or less an hour ago, but he can’t check before the free period.

Come on, come on.

Finally, after five more excruciating minutes, the bell rings, and Hitoshi has already whipped out his phone and opened the message app before the ringing has stopped.

>Izuku Midoriya: That great, Shinsou-kun! Thank you so much, you wrre amazign!!!

>Izuku Midoriya: I’m home by the way.

>Izuku Midoriya: Today is another day I didnt die in a pitch!

>Izuku Midoriya: Sorry, I feel a little tired

>Izuku Midoriya: Not your fault though!!!! I know you had to wake me up to check my head wasnt completely fucked ahah

>Izuku Midoriya: Thank you so much by the way!!!! You were amazing.

Seems like downplaying his situation is a pattern, uh.

You’re welcome, glad you didn’t die in a pitch<

And oh, by the way… what the fuck is happening??<

Hitoshi doesn’t need to wait much for the answer.

>Izuku Midoriya: That’s… that’s one of the best things anyne ever said to me. :’)

>Izuku Midoriya: Oh, villains are attacking USJ. At least, they planned to

>Izuku Midoriya: But, hey, hopefully your teachers have got it handled

And what’s with ‘Hiruko’?<

How did you know about the attack?<

Do you know Nedzu?<

I’m just going to ignore the first message because there’s too much to unpack there<

But, yeah, I’m glad, Hiruzuku or whatever<

>Izuku Midoriya: It’s a bit of a long story to write via text

As if that will keep Hitoshi from knowing what is going on. Plus, there is another problem.

Well, when you are feeling better you can come to the store<

If you want<

So you can tell me in person<

I mean you don’t have to of course<

We can meet in another place, but I don’t have much free time with school and work<

We can also not meet<

If you don’t want to tell me<

Oh God, I’m rambling via text.

Yeah, and there’s another problem, I think<

>Izuku Midoriya: I’d love to come to the store, but I don’t want to bother you

>Izuku Midoriya: What problem?

Present Mic (my homeroom teacher) made it pretty clear that they will ask me questions about you<

What do I have to say? Because it didn’t look like you wanted me to tell them who you are<

>Izuku Midoriya: Oh, that’s… that’s bad

>Izuku Midoriya: Ehm ok

>Izuku Midoriya: This is better on a call. Can we speak?

>Izuku Midoriya: Do you know if there’s a place in the school without like cameras and microphones?

The bathrooms are without cameras, microphones and are even soundproofed<

For privacy<

>Izuku Midoriya: Wow, that was quick.

>Izuku Midoriya:… how did you know?

I killed someone in there and no one found out so far<

>Izuku Midoriya:…

I was joking<

I have insomnia and I decided to read the school rule book to try and fall asleep<

>Izuku Midoriya: Oh! Did it work?

I admit I dozed off a little by the time I reached the section about the Business Course internships<

But I still went through all of it<

It’s more than 100 pages<

Written by Nedzu<

>Izuku Midoriya: Damn

Hitoshi rolls his eyes and gets up, ignoring the curious glances of his classmates. He heads for the bathroom, phone in hand, and locks the door.

This is going to go poorly, I just know.

**

Forty minutes later, he comes out of the bathroom still a little dazed, details and information going through his mind as he tries to revise everything one more time.

He is so distracted by his thoughts he doesn’t see the two figures in front of his classroom and bumps into them.

“Oh, sorr-“ he stops abruptly, realizing who’s in front of him.

“Oh, Shinsou, here you are! We were just looking for you!” the cheery voice of his homeroom teacher says and Hitoshi schools his feature to his usual deadpan.

“I was in the bathroom” he says, voice even.

Stay calm, Hitoshi. You’ve got this.

Yamada-sensei smiles wide at him and adds, “We wanted to ask you some questions if that’s alright! We can call your guardians to assist if you want, but it isn’t anything serious. Just some questions about this morning”.

Hitoshi even voice doesn’t waver as he says, “Of course. Can I grab my bag?”

“Sure, little listener! We will wait here. Then we’ll go to Nedzu’s office, alright?”

Hitoshi just nods, already moving to get into the classroom. He puts his phone in the bag and shoulders it, taking a deep breath.

When he exits the classroom again, the two teachers shift their gazes on him, and the scrutiny in their eyes isn’t masked by Yamada-sensei upbeat demeanour or Eraserhead’s bored expression.

This will be such fun.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi walks down the hallway, the only sounds Yamada-sensei’s humming and two pairs of feet hitting the ground. Quite unnerving, considering there are three of them, but Hitoshi soon figured Eraserhead’s steps don’t make the faintest noise.

‘Why do you want to help me? You could end up in trouble. You don’t even know me! All you know is my name and that I am Quirkless! That is usually enough for people to do the opposite of helping’

The door of Nedzu’s office opens on its own in front of them, but Hitoshi is too caught up in his thoughts to be surprised.

‘Because I’m not an asshole. And I know what it’s like, when no one believes you for something you can’t control. Plus, you are crazy smart and just prevented a villain attack on the embodiment of quirk bias. If you could do that, least I can do is help’.

He mumbles a greeting and sits on the chair that Nedzu points at, face devoid of expression.

‘You are amazing, Shinsou-kun. And I don’t know why people mistreated you in the past, but they are all ignorant pricks. You helped a stranger that showed up black and blue at ass o’clock at your work. You are already more a hero to me that they could ever be’.

Hitoshi blinks, and when he opens his eyes, the determination settles inside him. He looks Nedzu in his beady cunning eyes and his thoughts calm, everything clicking in place.

Bring it, Rat God.

The Rat God in question smiles at him, just a hint of pointy teeth showing, and goes to introduce the people in the room.

“Shinsou-kun, you already know Yamada-kun. This is Aizawa, the homeroom teacher of class 1-A and this gentleman here is Detective Tsukauchi”, a man in a trench coat and matching hat nods in his direction with a small smile, “Don’t worry, though! This isn’t an interrogation, the Detective is here only to hear what you have to say. As you probably imagine, this is quite a frenetic moment and him being here will spare us some time, so we don’t have to report everything after!”.

The principal does a little pause, enough for Hitoshi to bring back his gaze on him, “And of course, I’m Nedzu, the Principal!”

And isn’t that ominous.

Still, the bored expression doesn’t go away from Hitoshi’s face, “Pleasure to meet you”.

Nedzu’s grin widens, a gleeful spark in his gaze. After enough time for the silence to start feeling unsettling, but not enough that it can’t be written off as coincidence, Nedzu claps his paws.

“Let’s get to the matter now, shall we? You are here to answer some questions about the events of this morning, Shinsou-kun”.

The Detective shifts slightly at his left, taking a notebook and a pen from his coat, “I’m going to take some notes about your testimony. For the report” he says, that small smile probably meant to be reassuring still on his face.

Hitoshi shrugs, “Sure”.

Izuku had accounted for the presence of an officer. It’s not ideal, but it’s not that bad either.

‘15% police officers have a quirk useful for interrogations: truth detecting, empathic, some even influencing the suspect to tell the truth, though those are technically illegal now. Apart from that, another 25% has quirks that can be used similarly, like a mutation that sharpens the hearing and can detect acceleration in heart rates.’

‘So, we’re screwed.’

‘Well, not necessarily. We would be if you were to be interrogated, but it’s unlikely. They know a teenager will probably react defensively to something like a real interrogation. So, the hope is that they keep it informal.’

‘What’s the point? The quirk will still be active.’

‘Yeah, but they can’t demonstrate anything. Officers with those quirks are legally obliged to inform the suspect before using it on them. If they don’t, then it’s not proof of anything. They will know and you will know that they know, but they won’t be able to do anything about it. Plus, lying wasn’t a good idea to begin with. You will be surrounded by people who have trained to spot bullshit for years, and work with teenagers. This even discounting Nedzu, the smartest being in Japan. He wrote a really interesting paper on facial expressions and how mutations-’

‘Izuku, focus! What do I do? I have to lie at some point.’

‘Well, let’s say you can tell the truth more, ehm, artistically.’

Yamada-sensei seems to take it from there, coming closer from the other side of the desk where he was standing beside Aizawa.

Hitoshi wishes he had time to fanboy over his favourite hero, but he’s a bit busy.

Maybe later.

Present Mic is sporting a bright smile, one that would normally have Hitoshi relaxing.

Ah, so they are going with familiarity first.

“Shinsou-kun, why don’t you start from the beginning? How did you meet Hiruko?” ha asks, tone light and stance loose.

“I met him this morning,” well, it was morning, even if very early, “I take the train to get to school and I noticed someone who was waiting on my platform. It was pretty early, so there weren’t many people around.” someone is always waiting in a train station. He pauses and tilts his head a little while glancing at the ceiling, as if recalling the encounter, “His face was covered,” in bruises, “he was pretty short, but I couldn’t say the exact height. He approached me, then he told me he noticed my uniform”.

‘I noticed your uniform.’

‘Well, duh?’

‘I just told you I noticed it, so you can say that was how I knew you attend UA. Just word it vague enough. Time is a construct, after all. Oh, and be sure to throw in some truths, too’.

“He asked me if I attended UA. When I told him I do, he said that I should go to school and warn Nedzu about an attack on USJ. Obviously, I didn’t believe him at first. But then he showed me an email, from you” Hitoshi continues, turning toward the principal, “The address matched the one that sent us the email at the beginning of the year, so I thought it was real” yeah, screenshots work just fine if you want to show an email, do they not? “The email didn’t really convince me, but he stressed that my schoolmates could end up really hurt and that it was a serious situation. I panicked a bit, to be honest. I figured better safe than sorry, so I came here and told you as soon as I could”.

Ok, I did it. The first part is over.

It was incredibly tasking to think about everything at the same time. Even for someone with a mental quirk, thinking about the careful structure of the sentences and why they were true at the same time was stressing. That plus his lack of sleep was already making a headache blossom behind his temples.

As soon as he finishes speaking, he sees Aizawa throw a subtle glance at the Detective, who tilts his head just enough to resemble a shake of his head.

Ah! Take that.

His shoulders relax just a fraction. He brings his eyes back on Nedzu and almost startles out of his chair.

He saw. Fuck.

Nedzu’s eyes glint, the grin ever-present. He caught Hitoshi gaze on the Detective and probably his shoulders relaxing. This means he knows that Hitoshi is aware of the officer’s truth-detecting quirk, and that he probably came prepared.

Calm down. It could have been anything. It’s normal for people to track sudden movements. And he can’t prove anything, anyway.

So, Hitoshi just stares back, trying to depict confusion while keeping his usual deadpan expression. Yamada-sensei breaks the staring match.

“That was really helpful, little listener, thank you! We just need to clarify some things, alright?” he asks.

Hitoshi just nods, bracing himself to try and answer the questions artistically.

“Had you ever seen Hiruko before this morning?”

“No”

Nedzu’s and Aizawa’s gazes on him make him want to squirm, but he holds still.

“You sure? Maybe a kid you met at school or saw in your neighbourhood.”

Hitoshi takes his time to pretend to be pondering the question. Then, he shakes his head.

“No, I had never seen him before this morning.”

“Do you think you could give a description of the boy?”

“As I said, his face was covered. I think his eyes were green, though”.

His teachers seem to catch on the lack of direct denial like sharks with blood.

Well, fuck me.

Present Mic hums, clearly thinking of another way to formulate the question, “So you have never seen his features?”

“Well, I mean they weren’t exactly clear, since his face was covered. I saw his eyes and the upper part of his face, so there isn’t much to describe”.

Phew, that was close.

Surprisingly, after a little pause, Aizawa is the one who starts speaking next.

“Did you walk there?”, he asks, gaze firm and voice gruff.

Hitoshi falters. What?

“Did I walk there? Where?” he asks, caught completely off-guard by the weird question.

Aizawa’s tone is deadpan when he replies, “To the station. Did you get there by foot?”

“I- ehm- yeah” he shakes his head, trying to get back on track, “Yeah I walked there”.

Fuck, I fell for it like an idiot!

‘Be careful. They will see you tense and the best way to prove if someone is lying is to catch them by surprise. When someone is too focused on his story, on how to phrase their answers, the best strategy is to ask something simple. Something that doesn’t really matter but should come naturally. That is the most likely mistake everyone makes: they don’t react naturally.’

No use crying over spilled milk, he must focus.

Aizawa’s expression doesn’t betray anything as he asks, “Which station was it?”

“Musutafu Central, just a couple of stops from the school”

The underground hero nods, “Did you notice everything strange about Hiruko? You said his face was covered, but was there anything amiss or particular? A birthmark or a mutation?”

“I didn’t see any”.

That’s not an answer to the first part of the question, but Aizawa doesn’t seem to mind and gets straight to the next one.

“Did he tell you how he got the information or from who?”

“No.”

Aizawa opens his mouth to ask another question, but Nedzu intervenes before he can.

“Well, that’s a bit strange, don’t you think, Shinsou-kun? It seems weird for someone to just choose a train station and wait there for the first UA student that passes by them.”

Hitoshi just shrugs, “Yeah, seems odd”.

Nedzu hums and nods, with the expression teachers have when they see you are following their reasoning, “Still, you weren’t intimidated. A stranger came up to you, to tell you about a villain attack nothing less, and you weren’t scared, or alarmed.”

“Well, he was short, so I assumed he was more or less my age. Plus, it was morning in a train station. Lots of students pass by it and he had a backpack. And he didn’t threaten me or was menacing in any way”.

“Ah, of course! You don’t happen to know what Hiruko’s quirk is, do you?”

Hitoshi almost smiles, because this is the easiest question Nedzu could ask.

He doesn’t have one, therefore… “No, I don’t know anything about his quirk”.

They move on from that, with more generic questions about Hiruko’s possible involvement with villains and what he knew about the infiltration of the beginning of the week, all questions Hitoshi can answer easily.

After a while, Nedzu claps his paws again and announces, voices still strong and cheery, “Well, I would say we are done here. Just one more question, Shinsou-kun, and you are free to go!”.

Thank God, I’m sure I am a few inches shorter just from the pressure of this meeting.

“It’s silly, really, something we must have forgotten to ask sooner.” Nedzu adds paws now elegantly folded in front of him on the desk.

“Do you know his name?”

Chills go down Hitoshi’s spine.

Fuck, I hoped they had forgotten.

“I thought his name was Hiruko?”

Nedzu smiles, a heavy kind of silence suddenly filling the room.

“Oh no, that’s just a pseudonym. Do you know his real name?”

Hitoshi scrambles in his head for something to say, the previous tiredness gone.

“He didn’t tell me his name this morning at the station, no”, he says, but he knows that this time it won’t be enough as soon as he stops talking.

“Ah, that’s not quite what I asked, Shinsou-kun.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Think, Brain!

“Isn’t it?”

There’s no way out of this. He could plain lie, but he knows they won’t let it slide, not if it’s about his name.

“Ah no, not exactly. Don’t worry, I will repeat it! Do you know his real name?”

The pause is stretching, the teachers and the Detective are looking at him expectantly and the reasonable time to think about a question is running out.

“He’s Hiruko for me, Nedzu-sensei”.

“Are you sure you don’t have any clue on what his name may be?”

Well, if you can’t beat them, give them something.

“Now that you mention it, I think it could have been written on his bag. I don’t remember exactly what the writings said, but…” he does a pause for dramatic effect, “…I think it has something to do with a colour, but I can’t tell you which one. I just remember it struck me as odd, but I forgot about it a few seconds later, with the whole thing about the attack”.

Izuku will forgive him, there is only so much he can do.

“A colour, you say? Well, it’s still better than nothing! Thank you so much for your help, Shinsou-kun! You can go now”.

Hitoshi breathes out, letting out a bit of his tension. He can’t wait to get out of this damn office.

“You’re welcome, Principal. It was no problem” and yeah, he knows that that will be registered as a lie, but he ran out of fucks to give.

He grabs his bag and heads for the door, every step making it easier to breathe. His shaking hand is on the door handle when Nedzu’s voice chimes from behind him.

“Oh, and Shinsou-kun. If you ever happen to see him again, please tell him that it’s a hero’s job to help those in need, no matter how complex the situation may be. With the right help, even Hiruko can emerge from the waves, after all”.

Hitoshi nods, too tired to say anything and exits the office, for once looking forward to the weekend.

**

“He’s lying” says Shouta as soon as the door closes behind Shinsou.

No one is surprised by the statement. Nedzu nods, “That he is! And quite skilfully for someone his age!”

Shouta is less enthused about the fact.

Just more work, if you ask me.

He raises an eyebrow, expecting Nedzu to add something.

He doesn’t, of course.

“Why didn’t you just straight up ask him Hiruko’s name? We all know Shinsou knows it. It would have saved us some trouble” Shouta says, no patience left after the long day.

Nedzu finally shifts his gaze from the door to fix it on Shouta, “I thought that would turn up to be counterproductive!” the principal replies, this time going on to explain his reasoning without prompting, “What we know about Hiruko is that, due to something we can’t name, he cares about anonymity, so much so that he trusted someone he barely knew to take a message to us instead of coming himself. We also know he dislikes law enforcement, once again for a reason unknown. He doesn’t seem to put much trust in us either, despite us being both heroes and teachers to one of the best high schools of the country.” He muses, more thinking out loud than really talking to them, “And still, despite all this distrust, all this carefulness, he revealed his true identity to Shinsou. Our student wasn’t lying when he claimed he had never met him before, so their encounter must be fairly recent. It makes you wonder about the circumstances of their first meeting, and the context Hiruko was raised in, doesn’t it?”

The principal briefly shakes his head, his voice going back to his cheerful tilt, “To answer your question, Aizawa-kun, I believe Shinsou is the only link we really have with Hiruko, the only one he would be hesitant to break. Plus, if Hiruko really is alone in a dangerous situation like you seem to think, Shinsou could as well be the only positive figure for the boy in a while. I don’t want to risk breaking that connection so soon. We can find his name in other ways, after all.” Nedzu concludes.

And Shouta is pissed, because he can see the reasoning, but…

“What if Hiruko is in serious danger? What if we get to him too late? The villain attack failed. They’ll want someone’s head for it” he remarks, only realizing his voice is louder than normal when he feels Hizashi’s hand on his back.

The warm contact is enough for him to take a deep breath and reign in his temper.

I’m fried. I need to sleep.

Nedzu isn’t upset in the slightest by Shouta’s burst and answers calmly, “I still think this is the best course of action. It will take more time, yes, but we can always follow Shinsou back to him. Now it’s best not to spook either of them”.

Shouta takes another moment to collect himself, hand on the bridge of his nose and eyes closed.

“So, what do we do?” ha finally asks, definitely calmer.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” his boss muses, eyes once again fixed on the door. “What we have to do, Aizawa-kun, is not wondering over what he’s lying about, but rather, why?”

This is already giving me a headache.

**

Poor Shinsou. He helped me and now he’s going to be grilled by Nedzu. I’m the personification of bad karma.

Izuku sighs, looking at himself in the mirror. He’s looking… well not good seems like an understatement, even for him, but bad seems like an overstatement. Quite bad is possibly the best descriptor.

The bruises on his face have darkened, the split lip is even more swollen and his eyebags look more like additional bruises that anything.

At least the cut on the eyebrow fits the ‘edgy teenager’ aesthetic.

At that, he’s almost tempted to bang his head on the sink, but his head is enough messed up as it is.

He gathers the supplies he used to change bandages and band aids and puts them away in the cabinet before finally going out of the bathroom, thinking about how much he should still wait to contact Shinsou.

He doesn’t get far, however, before bumping into someone.

Oh great. Is that serotonin I see running away screaming? Ahah, just joking, it was never here to begin with.

“Hi, mom” he mutters, too tired to do anything more than small smile as he walks faster to his room.

Midoriya Inko stops abruptly in the middle of a greeting nod when she sees his face. She opens her mouth, a question on her lips, but stops again.

Izuku can see the fight behind her eyes, asking or not asking, breaking the pattern or not. He stays still, more out of politeness than anything else. After a moment, his mom seems to settle on what to do and asks, “Are you okay?”

If Izuku was a shittier person, his eyebrows would be around the Milky Way now, but as it is he just nods and gives another small smile.

“Yeah, don’t worry. It looks worse than it is”, he answers already starting to go back to his room. He barely makes two steps before his mother speak again, “I was going to make katsudon for dinner. We can- we can eat together, if you want” she says, her tone hesitant, maybe because she doesn’t really want him to accept, maybe because they haven’t eaten a single meal together for eight months, give or take.

Izuku hesitates, too. He doesn’t want to turn her down. He can already feel the guilt creeping in, gnawing at him. He feels his emotions bringing him back to before, to when every sentence meant a tension falling on the two of them, when his mother insisted on keeping together the threads of what once was a family. The overwhelming guilt, the anguish at seeing how much that task wore her down. The reason she still believed katsudon was his favourite food, All Might documentaries his favourite films, that hideous sugary soda he used to love as a kid his favourite drink.

And he caves, like he always does.

“That’d be nice. I’m going back to my room to finish my homework now.”

His mom nods, a surprised expression on her face, “Of course. I’ll call you when it’s ready”.

Izuku flees to his bedroom, closing the door and leaning on it, trying to make some order in his thoughts. He glances at his phone and sees it’s still early. He has some time before dinner will be ready.

Time is a construct and all that, but do these three days really have to feel like three centuries?

These last months, he and his mother… haven’t talked much. They, well, the term that comes to mind his ‘drifted apart’. It had started slowly, imperceptibly, an inch at a time. The first wasn’t really an inch, more like a metre, and it was when his sperm-donor disappeared on them. Then, smaller things: his mother, mistreated at work because of her quirkless son. Her quirkless son, too young to understand, bugging her about the reason why his mommy was so quiet. The school, calling her every two days because of fights with the other kids.

Once Izuku was old enough, he understood. There were evenings his mother came home, and she was so angry, and tired, and bitter. A wrong word, a forgotten chore, a broken dish was enough for her to start screaming her frustration at him. But Izuku understood, so he never talked back, he never responded. It was his fault, after all. There was only one thing that always resulted in a screaming match: his career choice. He wanted to be a hero, even if his mother begged him, tried to force him to change his mind, his resolve didn’t budge. Some days it was better, his mom feeling guilty and buying him merch, cooking him his favourite dish, especially after fights. Izuku soaked it all up, glad for the reprieve, but it didn’t last. They fell silent, both caught up in their sorrow.

Inches and inches.

When, ten months ago, Izuku told her he finally gave up, his mom was elated. Their relationship was already on the verge of breaking and she saw that as a true opportunity to stitch it back together.

But Izuku, those first months, he… well, can admit he wasn’t in a good place. More like in a very, very bad one. His mother’s enthusiasm didn’t reach him, no matter what she did. After maybe a month, she stopped trying. They got back to the silence, more like roommates than anything. But Izuku could still see her effort, how she came home early to be with him and cook dinner, how she turned down outings with friends to stay with him. She knew he wasn’t doing well, and she was trying to help him, in a way. It was just wearing them down.

Another month passed, and Izuku gathered the courage to do what was right. He rehearsed the words thousand of times in his mind, even in front of the mirror. And when his mother came home, her shoulders hunching even lower after a long day at work, he made her sit on the couch and spoke the most he had done in possibly one year.

He still remembers them, the words.

‘Mom, I know you are not happy. I know I am a difficult son and that you tried your best to be by my side all these years. But I can see you are not happy with your life, and this haunts me, because what I want for you is to have a full life. We don’t have to force ourselves anymore. You don’t have to worry about me: I am 15 now, I can cook and do everything independently. You can go out with your friends, you don’t have to argue with your boss about shifts. You can date someone, if you find a person you think is right for you. This is not me giving you permission, this is me telling you that you don’t have to worry about me anymore. No more tense dinners or movie nights. Of course, I will still need some money and your authorization for some things, since I’m still a minor. But I don’t want to weight you down. You can do what you want freely. I won’t be angry at you or disappointed. You did your best, and that’s enough’.

First came the denial, but it didn’t last long. Then, an expression on her face that is carved in his brain: a heart-wrenching mix between guilt and relief, between wanting to say ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘thank you’. In the end, she said both. She cried as she hugged him, but Izuku had to maintain a façade, so he kept a small smile on his face all the while, before wishing her the best life she could have and retreating to his room.

He cried so much that night, he didn’t have anymore tears by midnight. Still, he kept on crying. He was grieving, after all.

It had taken some time to fall in a routine. In a certain way, it was freeing to not be forced in the same strained situation as before. He had gotten accustomed quickly, the heavy feeling of self-reproach for what he put his mother through fading away.

And the results were there. The purple bags under Inko’s eyes disappearing, her skin going back to a healthy shade and the perpetual lines of tension on her face smoothing out. He caught her smile, sometimes, light and happy.

So really, all this dinner would do is bring back bad memories and old feelings.

Izuku sighs again, sitting and his desk and looking up news on the attack to distract himself.

Apparently, almost all of the criminals were apprehended, with the exception of the leader and another one (and he was willing to bet it was the teleporter). The news didn’t report much more after that, but apparently a conference has been announced by UA for tomorrow morning.

He briefly ponders about writing Nedzu another email, but after the last one he isn’t so prone on writing beck at all. As soon as he got home, he had written to the principal about the other details he had, but he was in a hurry and his brain still felt like scrambled eggs, so it was a bit, uh, confused. Plus, what would he write about?

He continues to check articles and finds one with all the names of the arrested criminals and, wow, they are a lot! Hiroto wasn’t joking about the big operation. He skims down the list absent-mindedly, until a name makes him pause: ‘Hiroto Kousei’.

 Oops, would you look at that? Siblings’ activities might be suspended for a while.

Hiroto will be a fury at school. He was already planning of steering clear of Blackhole High for a while, but now he has no doubts. At least, Hiroto can’t know it was him who tipped the heroes. In all the articles he read, no one ever talked about an informant or an anonymous tip, so it could simply be that the plan failed on its own. Even if Hiroto somehow knew, he would still have to piece together that it was Izuku and that’s unlikely. Hiroto barely considers him as a gum under his shoe, and he knows Izuku would never go to the police or the teachers. The bully has a pretty good knowledge of quirk discrimination in this society, mostly because he is one of the firm supporters of ‘no quirk, no rights’.

Maybe Izuku should consider switching to online school, after all.

A ping from his phone startles him out of his pondering about the best course of action.

>Shinsou Hitoshi: It’s done. Can’t write right now, talk to you later. It went… well, it went. It was scary as fuck, honest.

Way to calm a fellow anxious teenager, Shinsou-kun.

His headache is getting worse after looking at the screen so long, so Izuku decides that he is due for some rest and gets into bed, injuries flaring with every movement and exhaustion in every fibre of his being.

The world will have to wait for a while. I can get back online after a little sleep, thank you very much.

He finally shuts his eyes and is asleep in the span of a breath.

Chapter Text

Izuku makes his way down the busy sidewalk, anxiously checking the directions on his phone every two seconds, while also trying to look like he wasn’t checking the directions on his phone every two seconds, because God forbid some stranger on the street thinks he is nervous about this meeting, outing- whatever.

God, I’m crazy. Finally, the mental issues caught up. It’s happened. They will find me trying to plough Dagobah Beach.

It’s a combination of things, really. First, this undefined thing he’s going to resembles ‘going out with friends’ and he had one (1) such experience, and that is when he was four and his mom took him and Katsuki to the beach and then to get ice cream. He was utterly, completely, terrifyingly unprepared. What little dignity he still had in him had prevented him from looking up ‘what do you do when seeing someone that helped you after you were beaten by bullies and then proceeded to save your ass with some of the smartest heroes in the country’ on his computer, but it was a close call.

Second, the anxiety that hit him like a truck when Shinsou suggested meeting in a café caught him totally by surprise. He wasn’t used to caring about something anymore. It sounds silly, but there isn’t really something that has such a strong reaction on him these days. Yeah, the villain attack made him panic a little, and he was angry when Botan tricked him, but they weren’t really strong emotions. This is different. He is nervous now because he cares. Because he likes Shinsou, he is eternally grateful for what he did, for having his back.

Hell, he barely knows the meaning of that expression! And here comes this teenager with the perfect voice and some of the worst eyebags Izuku has ever seen, helping him, believing in him and lying to his teachers for him. A tiny, minuscule part of him in some crook of his being that he thought dead, wants this to go well. Something that comes dangerously close to hope.

And isn’t that hilarious? After all this time, after all the hate the world gave him, after everything failed him, he still doesn’t know his lesson.

So, he closes that forgotten place with every single lock he can and shoves it in the deepest part of him, before covering it with his safe and comforting bitterness.

Still, the nervousness doesn’t leave him, his mind going a mile a second to imagine all the possible scenarios and turning up blank apart from a few ones he really doesn’t want to come true.

It doesn’t help that the area is quite crowded. Ok, maybe ‘crowded’ is a bit strong, but this is definitely more people than Izuku is used to.

‘That’s because you’re used to one. You.’ surmises a definitely unhelpful voice in his head.

Jeez, thanks, Brain. Always good to know I can count on you to calm down.

Finally, he reaches the café they should meet at and, after checking the name five times, he leans on the wall by the door and settles to wait. His anxiety made him leave 30 minutes before what was really necessary, so Shinsou won’t be here for some time.

They had chosen to meet in a different place than the convenience store Shinsou works at to make it less predictable. Probably paranoia, he knows, but if UA starts looking for him, that’s one of the first places they will check.

They probably don’t even care about who I am anyway, they just had to ask to make sure I’m not a threat.

It’s Saturday, so there’s no school, and Shinsou’s shift starts at 2p.m., so they didn’t have problems finding the right time. The location was Shinsou’s idea, but Izuku didn’t really care about it. Izuku wanted to meet in the afternoon to give the other boy time to rest in the morning, but, apart from work, Shinsou had answered ‘You don’t sleep late in the morning if you never go to sleep in the first place’, which was honestly a little concerning, but he had work, so there wasn’t really another option.

After only 15 minutes, he sees Shinsou’s figure making his way to the café and puts away his earbuds, before nervously shuffling on his feet while he waits for the other boy to reach him.

“Hi, Shinsou-kun” he greets him, trying not to seem as nervous as he is. It’s been some time since he fell back into being the ‘skittish-anxious-mumbling teenager’, what with his life doing a somersault into the Abyss of Desperation® and all that, and luckily some of his newly found ‘no fucks to give’ disposition helps him look calmer.

“Hey there, Mido-kun” Shinsou offers him a small smile, more like a quirk of the lips really, but Izuku is still stunned by it, together with the nickname.

He falters for a moment, opening and closing his mouth until his brain reboots, “Mido-kun?” he asks.

Shinsou blinks at him, which, ok he doesn’t know the guy much, but seems like a huge sign of something, considering the practically unchanging deadpan the other boy appears to wear on every occasion.

“Oh yeah. It’s a nickname. Sorry but your name is definitely too long. Is that a problem?” he answers while be brings a hand up to scratch at his neck and looks away.

Ah, definitely nervousness then.

Somehow, the fact that Shinsou also looks nervous makes Izuku relax considerably.

He smiles at the other boy, “Oh, it’s not a problem, really! You just caught me by surprise” Izuku replies.

Shinsou offers him another quirk of his lips and they finally enter the café.

Once they are seated and nurturing their obvious caffein addiction, Shinsou speaks again.

“You face is simultaneously looking worse and better. How’s your head?”

Izuku grimaces a little at the remainder of the state his face is in. The waitress has clearly debated asking him about it, but, luckily, she decided not to.

“I’m fine. My head is far better. It still hurts but I’m taking aspirin for it. Can’t do much for the face, though”.

Shinsou just nods, taking another sip of his coffee. Izuku takes a deep breath. He definitely owes the other boy an explanation. He steels himself and starts to talk.

“So, Shinsou-kun. First of all, I want to thank you for what you did, both at the convenience store and yesterday. You didn’t have to and risked getting in serious trouble for me. Second, I think it’s time I tell you how I knew about the attack and had an email from Nedzu”.

He tells him everything, from the other day during his Pity Stroll to Hiroto and Botan.

When he finishes his voice is hoarse and he takes a sip from his mug. In front of him, Shinsou is regarding him with what he would guess is his shocked look. It’s pretty hard to tell.

“You got all that from his hands and the asshole saying ‘big operation’?” he says, his tone revealing a bit of bewilderment.

To everyone’s surprise, Izuku blushes, “Well yeah, but everyone could have done it. I was just the first to notice”.

Shinsou snorts, “Yeah sure, Mido-kun”, he shakes his head a little before looking Izuku in the eyes with a more serious gaze, “I guess it’s my turn now, isn’t it?”

Shinsou tells him the events of the previous day, the questioning by the teachers. He confirms Izuku’s suspicions about there being a police officer with a truth detecting quirk and reports the questions and his answers in great detail.

When he comes to the end of his meeting with the teachers and Nedzu’s last cryptic statement, Izuku’s brain is already processing all the consequences and possible assumptions he can make about UA’s next course of action.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t notice Shinsou is looking at him and shifting anxiously in his seat.

“Listen, I’m sorry I was shit at it. It was just difficult to think about everything at the same time and I was panicking, honestly, and Nedzu is fu-“

“Oh, no, no! You were great, really! I can only imagine how stressful something like that can be! I would have freaked out!” Izuku is quick to interrupt him.

This boy lies to his teachers for me and I don’t even deign him with an answer. God, I’m such a dick.

He smiles apologetically at Shinsou, “Sorry, I was thinking and I’m not really used to-“ he stops himself before he can finish that pathetic statement, but Shinsou seems to catch it anyway.

Something like understanding flashes in his eyes before he decides to avoid the topic and get back to the matter at hand.

“So, we established I was amazing. What else do you think?”

Izuku frowns.

The thing is shady.

“An offer” he says finally, still frowning down at the table.

“An offer of what?” asks Shinsou, confused.

Izuku raises his head to meet his gaze, “An offer of trust”.

He heaves a big sigh.

I just want to be left in peace. Is it that hard?

“You said the name part wasn’t the only instance in which you had to divert the conversation or slipped, right? I mean, divert even more than you were already doing.”

Shinsou nods.

“Right. But they never insisted on it, except for when it came to the name. You said it was probably because the name is an important detail, and it is, but still, in the end, they didn’t press for it. They could have threatened to expel you, to accuse you of retaining important information regarding a villain attack. They could have just plain said ‘you are lying’. But they didn’t. So, what was the only real result of asking you the same question one more time and pointing out how you were deflecting it?”

Shinsou seems to ponder about it for a moment, before he widens his eyes in understanding.

Izuku nods, “Yeah. The only thing Nedzu gained by doing that was that you now know your teachers are aware of the fact you were lying. Nedzu wanted you to know. He wanted you to understand that they could have forced an answer out of you, but they didn’t. It’s a message. ‘We know we could find you, but we respect the fact you don’t want to be found’. Plus, the last thing Nedzu said, obviously”.

“Ah yes, that thing about heroes and waves. The first part I got it, but the things about ‘emerging from the waves’ not so much.”

Izuku starts swirling the remains of his drink at the bottom of the mug.

“You said the exact words were ‘it’s a hero’s job to help those in need, no matter how complex the situation may be. With the right help, even Hiruko can emerge from the waves, after all’” he says and Shinsou nods.

“Yes, they were quite cryptic, that’s why I remember them exactly. Plus, Nedzu is terrifying so what he says tends to stick” he smirks a little at Izuku, “I may not be a genius like someone else here, but my memory is pretty good, you know”.

Izuku grins at that, a tension he hadn’t noticed leaving his shoulders. “Luck must really be on my side for once then. I mean, kind, snarky, perfect voice and good memory. I should pass out in alleys more often”.

To his surprise, Shinsou actually blushes at that, and only then does Izuku register what he said.

Yeah, here you go. You sound crazy. You have an almost-friend for the first time in your life and you have to make it awkward.

The word makes him bluescreen completely. Friends? Are they friends? How does one even define ‘friends’? Isn’t it too soon?

Plus, you could pass out in alleys all you want, but I doubt it will have the same result.

Ok, let’s go on, shall we?

“Anyway, yes, that sentence. The first part is fairly obvious, like you said. They are not only heroes, but a hero school, they give the literal guidelines of what a hero should be. Plus, they can basically be considered an independent institution by now, what with Nedzu distancing himself from the Hero Commission. The second part refers to where I took my name from. Do you who Hiruko is?”

Shinsou just shakes his head.

“It’s a character from Japanese mythology. He was the first son of the two ancestral beings who created Japan, Izanagi and Izanami. During the marriage ritual, the female entity, Izanami, greeted Izanagi first, and that resulted in the first two children being born deformed. Hiruko was the male one, and was casted into the sea by his parents when they saw he was born wrong. In fact, you read Hiruko as ‘weak child’, even if it can technically be read in other ways that lead to other interpretations of the myth. Some associate him with the kami Ebisu, the god of fishermen and luck, saying he became Ebisu once he was rescued by some fishermen, but historically they come from different cultures.”

When he finishes his rant, he looks up to find Shinsou with an amused expression on his face, “You know a lot of things, don’t you?”

Izuku chuckles nervously, “Yeah, sorry. Went on a mythology binge some time ago after reading an article about the importance of myths and how our perception of them changed with the appearance of quirks. It was really interesting”.

“Hey, no problem. I like learning random facts and hanging out with you will make me smarter by osmosis, so go on.”

Izuku tries to ignore the fact that that means Shinsou wants to keep hanging out with him and nods, getting his thoughts in a semblance of order.

“Right. So, the bit about the waves means that they want to help me from the situation they think I ended up in. Presumably, they assume I know the villains or are close to them, even if not by choice, so they want to rescue me from this situation.”

Shinsou tilts his head, “But you’re not, right?”. There’s some concern in his voice, even if Izuku just told him how he knew about the attack, but by now he has resolved to just ignore every emotional consequence of this discussion and store it away to analyse later, so he goes on without faltering.

“Right. They probably still thought it suspicious, though. Can’t blame them, honestly. Did they tell you anything about the attack?” he asks.

Expectedly, Shinsou shakes his head, “They sent Thirteen to cover for Present Mic, but they didn’t tell us anything. After the attack they told everyone to go home, that UA was still perfectly safe, and not to worry. I think Nedzu said something about contacting our guardians to reassure them at some point.” He shrugs and looks grimly at his empty mug. “You know, there’s still something I don’t get. Why did the villains attack USJ? What was the objective? I mean, even if you hadn’t warned them, I doubt it would have gone well for them.”

Izuku hums, thinking back to the second email he wrote to the principal yesterday. “I think the target was All Might” he says and Shinsou does another one of his slow blinks. “All Might? That All Might? Big, sparkly, 100 shining teeth and Number One Hero?”

Izuku tilts his head at him, “I don’t think he has 100 teeth, Shinsou-kun, even if there’s a theory about that” Shinsou waves his hand in a dismissive gesture, “Well, it certainly looks like it. I mean, every time I see his smile the first thing I think is just how much his dentist bill must be. Make all those super-teeth so shiny? That can’t be natural”.

Izuku has a sudden mental image of a small man in a lab coat making conversation with an open-mouthed All Might who can only answer in gargling noise and starts cackling like a maniac. In front of him, Shinsou looks at him surprised before letting out a small chuckle.

After more manic cackling, Izuku starts to explain, “Well, the target couldn’t have been a student. If they just wanted to kidnap one of them, the bus would have been a much safer choice. They would have been all confined in a small space and they have a teleporter at hand. Plus, what’s the need of a big operation for a kidnapping? Something subtle would have been better. So, the target must be something else, and they chose USJ to attack. A confined space perfect to disperse the students, who are also conveniently a great distraction if your target is a hero and their teacher. The priority will always be them, so they wouldn’t escape and just leave the students there. Hence the ‘big operation’. It couldn’t have been something they wanted to steal because USJ is just a simulation ground, so unless you want to steal some trees that’s not the best place to choose. So, what’s left is the teachers. I didn’t see the schedule, but the vast majority of UA’s hero teachers are easier to track outside of the school. They are all limelight heroes, and civilians can serve as a distraction as much as students. Sure, they wouldn’t be in a confined space, but it’s also easier to just grab someone on the street than go through the effort of dividing the students around USJ. The only two teacher who were plausible targets were Eraserhead and All Might. Eraserhead is underground, so he’s not easy to track, and All Might is All Might, so there was the risk he would stop them before they could even start whatever plan they had in mind, even with the hostages. He is strong, but also fast. Plus, he’s also quite difficult to track, despite being so noticeable. He disappears from scenes quite quickly and no one can find him after, and he doesn’t have a fixed patrol route.”

Shinsou takes in all the information and says, “Ok, so, considering Eraserhead is underground and almost no one knows he teaches at UA, it was logical that the target was All Might. That’s brilliant, Mido-kun”.

“That, plus the fact that despite Eraserhead being difficult to track, it would still be safer to try and get him while on patrol. Underground heroes patrol alone, in less-crowded areas and their routes are closely guarded, so they wouldn’t notice something had happened until much after the fact. There’s still the point of how many people were involved. In dark alleys you don’t want that many people for an attack. Too chaotic.”

“Yeah, I see. They are even dumber if they thought they could just take on All Might like that, tough”.

That’s a point Izuku has wondered about, too. Maybe the villains knew about the time limit? But how could it be? All Might said he had defeated the one that gave him that injury. Stolen medical records? Still absurd, All Might’s medical records are probably stored together with the most closed-guarded secrets of the country. Maybe they had a new weapon or knew about another weakness? Another weakness? Seems also unlikely, the time limit is a huge one and how many weak points can the Number One Hero have?

Oh, thoughts for another time.

He just shrugs and answers with a vague “Maybe”.

Shinsou narrows his eyes at him at that, but seems to let it go.

Eager to change the subject, Izuku asks, “Well, so you go to UA! General Education, right?”

Shinsou smirks and shakes his head, “Of course you know about the differences in the uniform. Yeah, Gen Ed.” He seems to think about something for a second, then adds, “I actually applied for the Hero Course, too, but I didn’t get in”. There’s an old bitterness in his tone, one that Izuku recognises well.

“Ah, I’m sorry for that. You said it yourself, UA is basically the embodiment of quirk bias. Although you can always try to transfer with the Sport Festival, if you want”, he says and he can feel that same resentment inside him once again. For how much they flaunt progress, the school still prefers the classic ‘heroic quirk’ and rules out the rest.

For someone as smart as Nedzu is, I expected different.

“Yeah, I know. I’m planning to, even if I don’t know how successful that will be, honestly. But I want to try. I want to prove the world that I can be a hero, despite what they say. I won’t give up now. I’m almost there.”

Shinsou isn’t looking at him, but Izuku can see it. The determination in his eyes, the firmness in his tone.

He didn’t give up. He’s so much stronger than I am.

It’s clear that Shinsou has some issues with his quirk and probably faced discrimination for it. Still, he is in UA now, and if that determination says something is that he will get in the Hero Course, bias or not.

“I know you can do it, Shinsou-kun. You will be an amazing hero one day and you will take those hero students down a peg or two.” He says, because he believes it.

Shinsou looks at him hesitantly, like waiting for something. “You won’t ask me what my quirk is?” he inquires, tone distrustful.

Izuku shrugs, “If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t force you to. But there are no ‘villainous quirks’, Shinsou-kun. Take it from me. I know a lot of things, remember?” he tries to go for levity and Shinsou seems to relax a little. His gaze goes back to the table on he says, “Yeah… the teachers used to say that to, before they knew what my quirk is. You know, all my life everyone I met was either afraid or disgusted by me. They hated me, without even knowing who I was. Everybody told me it was just a matter of time, that I was born to be a villain. That’s part of why I want to become a hero. To prove them wrong. Yeah, I also want to help others, but I think the point for me is that maybe, one day, a kid will have to go through what I did. And maybe, just maybe, knowing that I made it, that I defied the odds will give him the strength to go on”.

When Shinsou finishes speaking, Izuku’s eyes are moist. He hates it, hates the world for what it became, for making someone so kind go through years of discrimination. And despite having known Shinsou for barely two days, he is so damn proud. He is what a hero should be. He has a goal, he wants to make society just a little better, and he will. Not for himself, no, but for that kid. That kid that one day will need someone to look up to who understands.

He chuckles wetly and wipes quickly at his eyes, “You are incredible, Shinsou-kun. I wasn’t lying when I said you are already a hero for me. And the fact that you are still going despite everything is so amazing” he stops and takes a deep breath, drawing invisible patterns on the table with his fingers.

“You know, you are so strong for that. For not giving up. During these years, I got it. The appeal. The desire of just go ahead and prove them right and see how they deal with the consequences. I thought about doing what they baited me to do and leave incriminating proofs about them. I even briefly thought about becoming a villain, or a simple criminal, and take my revenge. But the idea of harming people was so disgusting I knew I would have never been able to do it. In the end, I gave up. It’s silly, but when I was little I wanted to be a hero, too. Now, I’m just stuck being nothing.” He says, and he’s shocked by how much he let slip. Doesn’t matter, he trusts Shinsou.

‘Again with this trust thing? Doesn’t seem like a good idea to me’ whispers a voice in his head, but he ignores it. He trusts Shinsou. He knows he can.

He raises his head and sees Shinsou is looking at him, understanding in his gaze.

“I got it, too. The appeal. I’m just too spiteful to let them win” he replies softly, before a smirk makes his way on his face, “And look who’s talking. I’m not the one who prevented a hero attack on a class of innocent little herolings” ha adds, and Izuku cracks a smile.

“After all this emotional bullshit, I think I owe yp tell you my quirk” Shinsou says and Izuku schools his expression.

He was serious when he said there are no villainous quirks, and he doesn’t want to react badly, but there are still some quirks that are tied to bad memories for him. Explosions, fire, something life Fear Force, and, as awful as it is, telekinesis. Still, he doesn’t want Shinsou to think Izuku is biased or something, so he keeps his expression clear.

Shinsou takes a fortifying breath before uttering in a single exhale “It’s Brainwashing”.

Izuku’s brain is exploding with questions and facts as soon as the last sound exits Shinsou’s mouth, the assault taking so much of his focus that he forgets he has to show some kind of reaction.

The other boy is looking at him waiting for a reply, nervously shifting his eyes around the room. He clears his throat and starts to say, “If it makes you uncomfortable I can-“

At that moment Izuku’s brain reboots and he remembers he has to say something.

God, I’m the definition of socially inept.

Obviously, because he can’t function properly, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “People are so fucking stupid.” And, more concerningly, the second is, “Is that way your voice is so good?”

They both freeze, Shinsou doing his confused blink (which he now knows is different from his shocked blink) and Izuku caught between the urge to bang his head on the table and trying not to aggravate his head.

Then, Shinsou tentatively asks, “I’m sorry, what?”

The dam between Izuku’s brain and mouth breaks and he starts to spit out everything that is going through his head.

“Well, your voice being so perfect could increase your ability to persuade people to follow your orders, even without your quirk. Maybe it just makes it more effective, like Midnight’s quirk which is more powerful is the target sees her. The part about people being stupid is because, well, they are. That’s one of the literally best quirks for heroics ever, like it’s now in my top ten most suitable quirks for heroics. Definitely above All Might’s by the way. How does it work? Oh my God, I have my notebook with me. Is it contact? You don’t have any visible mutations on your hands and aren’t careful about touching things, but then again, things don’t have a brain to ‘wash’, right? Ok, it could be simply that when you want you can activate it. That would be super cool, but also could lead to many incidents when you were young. I’m sorry if it happened, Shinsou-kun, it wasn’t your fault! If we follow the perfect voice lead you have to give orders out loud, but what if you try via phone? It could also be activeated by your eyes, like Eraserhead. Oh! Is that why your pupils are silver and not black? What if-“

He stops at the fifth confused blink and realises he’s mumbling and that’s not good.

He laughs a little nervously “Ah sorry. That’s not the point. I just like analysis. I didn’t want to freak you out with my questions, these are still personal details. Anyway, your quirk is awesome, Shinsou-kun! With a little training and the surprise effect you could be basically unstoppable!”

Shinsou’s brain seems to reboot, too and he asks, “You have a top-ten list of more suitable quirks for heroics?”

“Ehm, yes. Obviously any quirk can be useful for heroics, but I like to list the more suitable and how someone could use them to be the most effective. I also like to think about how every quirk can be used to become a hero, but that’s another point”.

Shinsou nods, “Of course. Obviously”. He shakes his head a little, “So, you’re not afraid of me, not scared or anything?”

Izuku tilts his head, “Why should I be? I mean you wouldn’t use it on people randomly, so I don’t see the problem.”

Shinsou’s eyes seem to get a little more wet at that and he replies, “No. No, I wouldn’t”.

Izuku smiles brightly at that, but a sudden jingle catches their attention.

On the screen to their right, a reporter is speaking to the camera. The owner must have turned up the volume to hear.

 “We are here at UA press conference about yesterday villain attack at USJ. The speakers are the principal Nedzu, All Might and 1-A homeroom teacher, who didn’t disclose his name for safety reasons. We hope that this conference will shed some light on the circumstances of yesterday attack and give us some clues as to what UA is doing to assure the safety of its students”, the camera zooms in to show Nedzu, All Might and Eraserhead seated at a long table with microphones in front of them, at least fifty journalists facing them in the seats before the little stage.

“How did even they get Aizawa-sensei to participate?” mutters Shinsou beside him, and Izuku looks at the tired teacher’s face.

The contrast between him and All Might is fucking hilarious.

“Yeah, that’s definitely not a camera-friendly look, I’d say”.

**

Shouta glares at the cameras flashing in front of him, the collar of his shirt hitching and his eyes burning from the bright lights. What’s worse, All Might seems to shine a thousand watts all by himself and it’s grating on his nerves.

Does he have like a switch? A button or something to turn the brightness down?

Thankfully, he isn’t directly beside the man, but Nedzu’s small figure between them doesn’t really help dimming the sparkle.

It’s not a secret Shouta isn’t the Number One Hero’s biggest fan. It’s not that he can’t do his job. He is objectively a great hero and Shouta respects that. But it’s obvious he came to teach at UA for some personal reason and not really to ‘forge the next generation of heroes’. That, plus his total lack of preparation and his apparent disinterest in putting some effort in working on that lack angers him. He takes being a teacher very seriously. It’s his job and it’s important. Those kids only have three years to train before going out to face the worst of society and it’s not something you can do half-assedly. Apart from that, ideologically he is a bit against the whole ‘always smiling’ thing. It gives kids false expectations about what being a hero really involves. Yes, it’s good to reassure victims and it’s a symbol, but that doesn’t mean you can’t both smile and talk seriously about the life of a pro hero. All Might never did that, only writing it off as ‘work hard and you can achieve your dreams’, but Shouta is sure the hero himself has gone through a lot. Lying to the people out there to reassure them isn’t always good.

Toshinori and Shouta could as well be at the opposite sides of the hero spectrum, and it shows.

His attention is caught once again by the vultures in front of him, all talking and making a lot of unnecessary noise.

The damn press conference is already taking too much time and they haven’t even started. He knows it’s necessary, the public is worried. But did it really have to be him?

After another couple of minutes, Nedzu finally clears his throat in the microphone and start to speak.

“Good morning, everyone! I am the principal of UA, Nedzu and with me are the Number One Hero and recently appointed Heroics teacher All Might and 1-A homeroom teacher.” The principal does a little pause to be sure everyone is now focused on him before going on with his speech.

“We are holding this press conference to talk about the villain attack that happened yesterday in a UA facility, the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, or USJ for short. We will begin with our statement and then we will take questions. Please refrain from asking anything until the end of our statement”. At this, he glances pointedly at some reporters in the crowd who were already opening their mouths to shout something.

“First of all, we would like to reassure you that no students were harmed in any way and all the teachers present only suffered minor injuries. Students’ safety is always UA first concern and that is why, after the infiltration of three days ago, we increased our security level and were consequently able to deal with this attack quickly and without any of the students being harmed. As you may recall, three days ago there was an incident at the gate that was written off as an unimportant event caused by someone accidentally triggering our security system. However, we soon discovered that it was in fact a distraction and that a villain had infiltrated our school to steal some documents. Luckily, we were able to identify the documents that were stolen and found that it was the class schedules of the first-year hero classes. Once we discovered this, we planned different strategy to assure the safety of our students anywhere on our premises. No one was aware of this apart from the hero teachers to avoid the possibility of the villains realising we knew an attack was planned on UA”.

They had easily decided to keep Hiruko out of the story, to try and protect him from an eventual retaliation of the villains. They had instead decided to say they had found what documents were stolen and go with a simple lucky coincidence thanks to the increase in security.

“We were particularly careful yesterday since the exercise was to take place far from the main campus and our foresight paid off.”

Nedzu goes on to describe the attack in vague details, saying that all the villains were apprehended and one of the two who managed to escape was still heavily injured.

He concludes with another tirade about the sureness of UA security and preventive measures.

“Now you may ask your questions” ha says finally, and all hell breaks loose.

God, can’t we just go home? You all perfectly know you won’t be able to get anything from Nedzu that he doesn’t want to say. Just cut it.

The reporters don’t seem to answer his silent prayers and keep shouting indecipherable gibberish.

Shouta sighs and points at a journalist in the first row. At least he won’t shout.

The reporter stands and states his name and the news anchor, which both flit through his head without a single ping of recognition.

“Do you know what the purpose of this attack was?”

“An investigation is currently undergoing, but we don’t yet know what the villains hoped to obtain with this attack, no” he answers with his usual bored tone. The reporter face sags disappointedly, and he seats back down. After that is just a barrage of questions and they take turns to answer.

“Don’t you think the parents had a right to be informed of the threat?”

“How can your security system be as sound as you stated if the villains managed to infiltrate the school?”

“How do you plan to arrest the two missing criminals?”

“What do you know about the leader?”

“Was it a new organisation?”

“Was it yakuza?”

“It was said online that some parents are thinking about pulling their kids from UA. How do you respond to that?”

The three of them answer the questions about the attack vaguely, just saying basically that the investigation is undergoing and reassure again and again about UA priorities.

After the first strong questions, the situation seems to calm down and a young journalist addresses a question at All Might.

“So, All Might, you are at UA since barely a week, and you already fended off a big villain attack. You would say your presence was what tipped the scale toward victory?”

Toshinori laughs good-naturedly and answers, “It wasn’t just me fighting the villains! My colleagues and I worked together and, obviously, being prepared to face the attack played a big role. This was thanks to the excellent plan we all conceived and obviously, the help from our little informant!”

Shouta, Nedzu and All Might freeze, the latter clearly realising he slipped up. Badly.

I’m going to kill him, I swear. What the fuck is his fucking problem??? I’ll fucking destroy you, you big sparkling idiot!

The journalist just tilts her head, confused, “Informant?” she asks, but Shouta can already see the other vultures smelling the blood in the air. The crowd of journalists looks like a huge creature who just opened one big, red, and crazed eye and pointed it on its next prey.

Shouta shots All Might a look so nasty he sees the hero gulp and Nedzu beside him raises his paws to signal he’s going to answer.

This is not a good situation. He can’t just dismiss it and close the press conference here, because all the conspiracies that would fester would be even worse. He has to give them something, and it must be something convincing.

“What All Might is referring to is the investigation we mentioned several times. Some of the arrested criminals have indeed decided to give us information about the leader of the attack and his goals, and this is helping us greatly in discovering more about who they are and where they could be hidden. As you can imagine, we can’t disclose any classified detail yet, but rest assured that UA and the law enforcements are working without pause to come to the end of this matter.”

Nice save, but it won’t be enough. Some will probably believe him, and this will serve as a way to write off any possible theory as just a crazy conspiracy, but still, the damage’s done.

I’m going to punch him in his perfect 100 shining teeth if it’s the last thing I do on this Earth.

After that, Nedzu takes all the questions and firmly shuts down any discussion about the possible ‘informant’ and after another 10 excruciating minutes they finally wrap it up and exit that damn room.

Fuck all this.

Chapter Text

The room is dark of a particular kind of darkness. Heavy, suffocating, purposeful. The kind of darkness that is intended and that hosts only those who were raised inside it.

Outside, the sun is shining brightly, but you wouldn’t be able to tell. No light can filter through the sturdy walls, and the lack of windows adds to the feeling of oppression. It makes it seem like even the sunlight flees in front of such darkness, the kind that hides the monsters children are afraid of at night.

The only deem, weak light in the room comes from a screen in the far end of it, but even that glow is faint and is absorbed by the blackness around it.

On the screen, three people can be seen. Well, one is probably better described as a ‘quirked animal’, but alas.

The person on the right is speaking, laughing, brightly coloured clothing almost shining.

The little vivid figure seems so finicky in the room’s darkness, so frail. It would be so easy to snuff out such a fragile light, after all.

Obviously, the two people watching the screen know that it’s far from easy. One of them as the scars to prove it.

The same one that is looking at the screen with unsettling attention, the memory of his newly-acquired scars making his anger and bitterness flare so much that they seem to make an aura around him.

Compared to him, the other occupant of the room is nothing more than a shadow, in more ways that one.

Suddenly, their stillness is broken by the sound of nails scratching on skin, a noise that would send shivers down the spine of every ordinary man. The gaze of the scarred man is now razor-sharp focused, his anger surging. He grabs a glass that stood near his hand, only four fingers touching its surface.

“We’re going to find them, Kurogiri”, he says in a grating voice, “We’re going to find them”.

Just the thought of doing so makes him clench his hand around the glass.

“And then… Then I’m going to enjoy turning them to dust”.

Flakes of dust settle on the counter.

**

Honestly, Hitoshi is pretty proud of his ‘no-fucks’ attitude. He spent years perfecting it and he’s quite good at it, if he says so himself. He thinks that if there was a prize like ‘The Best Deadpan’ he could probably win it, or at least come really close.

All things considered, he thinks himself a bit of an expert in this kind of attitude.

So, he is a bit unsettled by his current situation.

After hearing All Might massive fuck-up (Hitoshi is so going to hit him with his shoe the next time he sees him), he had been too panicky to seat in the Cafè. Already picturing all the villains coming for his friend.

(Yes, they are friends now. They have it all: possibly traumatic experience together, bonding over shitty lives, almost matching eyebags and caffeine addictions.)

Naturally, like any even remotely sane person, Hitoshi started to panic and fret over his friend, thinking of all the possible solutions and already picturing the angry tirade he would hit the cops with for not listening to them after his friend’s demise and his raising as a community hero against the discrimination rampant in law enforcement.

The unsettling thing is that, during all this, Midoriya continued to look concerningly unconcerned. Even counting Nedzu’s poor attempt at a save, All Might’s statement was pretty damn obvious. Still, the Little Greenie looked non-plussed, possibly even bored.

At first, Hitoshi thought it could be a case of good old Masking Your Emotions®, but he is, after all, a master in Deadpan. Therefore, it took little time to actually figure out that his friend was genuinely unconcerned. Like, actually, not giving a flying fuck that there could be a villain out there looking for him to skin him alive or behead him or who knows what other horrible things villains are up to these days.

 “Midoriya, this is serious. That conference was televised in all of Japan, and even if the villains aren’t clearly that bright if the plan to attack USJ is anything to go by, a doubt they can be that dumb”, he stresses, trying to get his point across. As all the other times he tried, however, Midoriya doesn’t look nearly worried enough.

He’s walking by his side, a sort of low-key anxiety making him dart his eyes between the people they pass on the street.

“Shinsou-kun, it’s really kind of you to worry, but really, I think this is all unnecessary. I know you don’t think so, but Nedzu’s save was quite good. And even if the villains didn’t believe him, it’s basically impossible for them to figure out I was the one giving the tip. Don’t fret it. I’ll be fine”, Midoriya answered, voice level and not showing an ounce of emotion.

Hitoshi stared at him, continuously waiting for the moment he would realise. The moment he would finally start to panic, to freak out. Still, the moment never came. Not an itch in his step, not a twist of fingers, not a tension in his shoulders. And Hitoshi was looking. He had been looking since they left the Café, searching for a crack in his composure, in the attitude. But he was a fucking expert and could find no one.

That, more than the situation, scared him so deep he thinks he can feel his very soul trembling.

Looking in Izuku’s eyes, Hitoshi thinks his friend must be much more scarred than he had realised. Midoriya’s gaze made him recall a dark time, when he was younger and his wounds fresher, the pain encompassing and unavoidable.

He knew he had made progress since then: he got to UA, even if not the Hero Course, his new classmates didn’t completely suck, and his new foster father wasn’t so bad. Sure, he had him work the graveyard shift at his store, but it wasn’t like Hitoshi usually got much sleep to begin with. And yeah, he sometimes hit Hitoshi, but it was quite rare, and he was still by far the best foster home he had been in since forever.

But Hitoshi now understands that Midoriya may be in a much worse place than he thought.

And I don’t know what to do to make it better.

“I don’t want to jinx it, but I am sure there are some ways in which they can figure it out” he pauses, pondering if the next sentence is going to be pushing it too much.

Oh, fuck it. I don’t want him to die, ok?

“Maybe… maybe we should talk with Nedzu, or Aizawa, hell even-“

“No, Shinsou. That won’t be necessary”

When Hitoshi turns to look at him, Midoriya has stopped on the sidewalk and is staring him in the eyes.

“Listen, Shinsou-kun. I appreciate you worrying, but as I said, there is no need. And talking to your teachers is like, one of the worst ideas ever. They couldn’t do much to avoid the villains finding out, in the off chance they do, and even if they could, they probably wouldn’t want to. And your efforts would have been for nothing.”

He pushed too much. Hitoshi can see in the seriousness of Midoriya’s expression that, no matter how much he can consider themselves friends, he wouldn’t hesitate to disappear if Hitoshi betrayed his trust like that.

Is having friends always so difficult? Like, cut me some slack this is the most social interaction I’ve had in at least 10 years.

He sighs. He’s so not made for things like these.

“I won’t talk to the teachers, and I wouldn’t do it without your permission, obviously. I just think you are underestimating the situation. Look, I know you are much smarter than I am, so you must see how badly this could end. I won’t force you to do anything, just-“ he bores his eyes in Midoriya’s, trying without words to convey the fact that he cares, dammit, “Just, think about it, ok? And be careful.”

He goes for a little smile, “I have to see how you look when your face isn’t all black and blue.”

Midoriya smiles back, a small thing but he could have full-on grinned for the relief it brought Hitoshi. “I don’t know I think it gives me some badass vibes. Maybe I should get punched in the face more regularly.” His smile dims, but the seriousness of before is gone. “And thank you. I’ll be careful”.

They change topic after that, chatting about everything and nothing until they reach the crossing where they have to part ways.

Neither of them points out that, against villains, being careful is unlikely to be enough.

**

This is it. This is fucking it. He’s done. History will thank me.

“Do you have ANY idea of what you’ve just done? How can you be the Number One Hero? You had one job!”

The Big Buffoon has the decency of looking ashamed.

Pity that won’t save him.

“Young Aizawa, I know I have made a mistake and I apologise for it, but now you seem to be a little exaggerating-“ All Might tries, but Shouta is so not going to let him.

“Exaggerating? Exaggerating?! Do you realise you have put a target on the back of a CHILD?! I will s-“

“That would be enough, Aizawa-kun” Nedzu’s voice chimes from the door of the small room where they prepared for the conference.

Shouta whirls around to face the principal like a fury, his eyes flashing red for the barest second.

“He did the only thing he didn’t have to do! Even discounting the fact that we were trying to gain his trust, now the villains know of the existence of an informant and-“ Nedzu interrupts him once again.

This is really getting on my nerves.

“I am well aware of the consequences of his actions, Aizawa-kun” Nedzu says, his chipper voice taking a colder edge. He slowly turns his snout to look at All Might, and even the Number One Hero cowers a little.

“But, what’s done is done. Now we must take countermeasures, the first one of which is finding Hiruko and assure his safety. The second is, quite obviously, to continue the investigation and find the villains.”

Yeah, a piece of cake.

Shouta knows he needs to calm down, but the anger in his blood doesn’t seem to subside. He hadn’t shouted like this in years. He knows, but all he can see is tired, green eyes, heavy with a weight no teenager should have experienced. Other images overlap, another pair of eyes, still young, but less guarded, clear enough you could see the terror etched in them.

“Sho” a whisper comes from his side, and it has the soothing and steady power of a fresh stream, calming his anger and quieting the thoughts running in his mind. He turns and his eyes meet a different green, the one he knows like he knows the scars on his body, the shape and colour so familiar he couldn’t forget them even if he tried.

Hizashi smiles warmly at him, calming his worries without dismissing them with just one look.

What will I give to be alone with him.

Shouta is not one for displays of affections, but he would gladly put up with a session of Hizashi’s skin care routine if it meant he could just hold his husband for a little.

“We’ll figure this out, Sho. The little listener is smart, he will manage until we get to him. And you know we will.”

There are a lot of things Shouta’d want to say, but now it’s not the moment. So, he takes one last strengthening look in Hizashi’s eyes and tunes back to the conversation going on around them.

They spend another half hour to debrief before they decide to call it a day and have a meeting the next day first thing in the morning. Shouta wanted to oppose to it, but Nedzu said he had ‘some things to arrange’ (and isn’t that ominous) and send them all home.

After a short drive filled with his husband’s humming, they finally reach home and Shouta collapses on the couch.

Ha can hear Hizashi moving around the kitchen, probably preparing tea. He stays still, his perpetually-burning eyes closed, and breathes in the comforting smell of their home. There’s an itch under his skin, an impulse to move, to act, to fight, that clashes with his exhaustion and his rational mind telling him there’s nothing he can do at the moment.

He’s been in this career enough to know that patience is one of the most useful qualities you can have. Rushing things rarely ends well. You need time to assess, to think, to elaborate a strategy. It’s what he tries to teach his students since the very first day. Even when they hurry, even when they rush, even when they are too quick to follow with the eyes, it has to be a planned rushing. Just because your body is scrambling doesn’t mean your mind must too. No sense jumping in a situation with all the strength of the world if you don’t know what your next move is going to be.

And still.

Still, images are flashing behind his eyelids, telling him to move.

Suddenly, he’s brought back to really by the sound of a mug being placed on the coffee table and a weight settling beside him on the edge of the couch.

A warm hand makes its way through his hair, gently untying the bun he had done for the conference before familiar fingers start scratching lightly at his scalp and carding through his black locks.

His body melts into the touch and relaxes completely.

“You always look like a cat when I do this” Hizashi says softly, a light chuckle following his statement.

“And you always say I do” he mumbles, eyes still closed.

Another chuckle answers him. After a minute or so, his husband speaks again, “I made tea”. The only response that gets him is an indecipherable groan, Shouta’s position far too comfortable to even think about moving.

“C’mon, you big feline, before it turns cold” Hizashi adds, retreating his hand to poke him lightly in the arm.

With another pained groan, Shouta finally gets up to a sitting position, already missing he sensation of fingers running through his hair. He turns to find Hizashi smiling at him, bright and sincere.

He rolls his eyes, his lips quirking just barely.

They spend a quiet couple of minutes sipping the tea, just enjoying the other’s presence. A little reprieve, finding solace in the familiarity and trust they can only find in one place and one person.

“Talk to me, love. Is it about the Ouroboros case?”

Shouta huffs and can’t help but smile. It still surprises him when it really shouldn’t.

“Yeah” he pauses to take a sip from his mug, “I know I shouldn’t let it influence this case, it’s just…” he trails off, not finding the right words but having the certainty they are not needed.

“Hey, none of that. I know you don’t like to think about it, but you are human, Sho. It’s already impressive, and quite scary actually, that you let yourself be influenced so little”. The utter care and softness in his husband’s voice untangles something inside him and Shouta feels his shoulders drop.

The Ouroboros case is one of many cases Shouta has worked at that involved an informant. Specifically, someone from inside the organization. It was a small group, nothing particular for the Eraserhead, who had faced hundreds of cases like that. So, a small group, but vicious. The name came from the quirk of the boss, who could transform into a giant snake.

Not the most pleasant thing to witness, if he was being honest.

The case was closed. They managed to arrest all the members of the organization. The success was actually due to information provided by a 13-year-old, the son of the big boss. He was young but had witnessed his mother’s death at the hand of his sperm donor. The big honcho made no secret of his ‘business’ to his son, who had to see many horrible things and stumbled upon an undercover cop they had sent to try and infiltrate the group. He wasn’t successful, the members were all suspicious of the newcomer, but the child knew everything about the criminals, and they were in a rush. They were sure they could have gotten him out before the ambush. They were sure.

So, all bad villains were apprehended. Everything good, apart from one thing. The boss had changed plan at the last moment. According to their regular schedule, his son would have to go home right before they broke through. No one ever managed to understand what tipped him off, but they all knew the consequence. Just before they broke into the villains’ base, his father had made him confess and killed him in an anger outburst.

He didn’t know why that case in particular stuck with him. Maybe because it was a child, maybe it was the fact that if only they had been there a couple of minutes earlier, he would still be alive. Maybe it was the absolutely terrified look Shouta had seen on his face in the only occasion he managed to talk to the boy.

It wasn’t the first case that ended badly for the informant: there was always a risk, and the informant risked more than everyone.

But it stuck.

And know, he can’t help but feel like he is on a train going rapidly and inevitably to the same conclusion.

Shouta feels warms but strong arms enveloping him from the side, and he sags against Hizashi’s chest letting him support his weight.

“I should focus on this. We don’t even know the situation. It could be completely different. I should stay calm, take the time to reflect, to think.”

He heaves a sigh. A hand gently brings a lock of hair behind his hear. He feels Hizashi’s inhale when he speaks next.

“Oh, Shouta. You know that’s only partially true. Experience is what makes you the brilliant hero you are. This job takes a lot out of us, and out of you maybe more than others. It’s ok to become a bit emotional sometimes. Like Sensei always said, the important thing is never losing sight of the real objective…” he lets the sentence hanging, and Shouta reluctantly concludes it, “Saving people”.

“Ah, I see you did pay attention sometimes after all”, Hizashi jokes lightly.

Shouta closes his eyes and sighs, “You know, I already knew you were perfect, but this is starting to look suspicious”, he rumbles.

His reply is just a chuckle.

We’ll protect him.

We have to.

And then, I will punch All Might in the face.

**

I think it went well.

Izuku almost smiled at the thought.

Ok, maybe the last part not so much. But it was still really kind of Shinsou to worry!

Not like there is any need, obviously. Still, it was a new and pleasant feeling, knowing that someone cared, even for something so small.

I hope he doesn’t think me ungrateful. After all, he showed all that concern for me and I basically turned him down! He’s going to say I didn’t appreciate him enough, after all his efforts to help me! God, I’m so stupid! Maybe I should write him a text? Something short, just to tell him I really appreciate his consideration, and him, and the fact that he agreed to meet me and helped me and-

Suddenly, pain bursts in his still-healing shoulder.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, extra!” shouts an angry and desperately familiar voice.

At once, all his thoughts about Shinsou disappear like a sandcastle washed away by furious waves of paralysing fear and bone-deep anxiety.

Ah, here it is. I was starting to think the Universe had finally forgotten about me. Foolish me!

Maybe he didn’t notice it’s me.

“Sorry” he mumbles, voice low and pitched a little graver than usual.

He keeps his head down as he walks by, grateful his anxiety made him pull up his hood after parting ways with Shinsou.

Please don’t notice me, please don’t notice me, pl-

“Oi, what’s got you in a hurry, shitty Deku? Got some pathetic stalking to do?”

Of fucking course. I wonder if it’s just me or everybody has this luck, because honestly this can’t be natural. It’s starting to seem a little too planned. You are becoming predictable, my dear Universe.

He heaves a barely audible sigh and turns around, eyes still glued to the pavement and heartbeat slowly but surely accelerating.

Damn you, conditioned responses!

“I was just going home, Kacchan” he mumbles, slightly louder than before. Katsuki gets even more angry when something reminds him of his poor hearing.

He wouldn’t be on his way to full hearing loss if he had listened to me when we were 10 and got some protective earbuds.

He wisely crashes that thought and focuses on the sound of heavy steps approaching, the echo of many other steps across his childhood.

“What? Are you such a coward that you can’t even look me in my eyes anymore, Deku?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He finally raises he head, expression blank, and sees in Katuski’s eyes the moment he registers the bruises on his face.

Oh boy, here we go.

“The fuck happened to your face, Deku?” he says, a strange look flitting through his eyes.

If Izuku cared, he would have tried to analyse it and understand what goes through the other’s head, but he doesn’t need to search when he already knows at heart all the range of looks Bakugo Katsuki can aim at him.

This time is probably something like smugness, because Izuku revealed himself weak once again and proved how right Katuski was. Could also be anger that someone else is using is favourite punchbag now that they are in separate schools. Maybe satisfaction, maybe disdain. No need to find out exactly which one, now is there?

“Oi, stupid nerd, I asked you a fucking question! Answer me.”

Izuku blinks, a millisecond of confusion before he registers that Katsuki actually wants an answer.

He debates for a moment answering something like “A pigeon flew into my face really hard” or “What do you mean, it’s just a new make-up trend, duh”, but sarcasm is never the best move with Katuski.

He shrugs, “Nothing, just got into a fight”.

A very one-sided fight, but semantics, am I right?

In front of him, Katsuki scoffs, “No need to tell me who won, right Deku?”

No, none. You’re an expert, after all, right Kacchan?

Izuku just nods, hoping this will end soon. He just wants to go home.

“Yeah, I would tell you to switch to online school, but I bet you could manage to get beaten up eve by a computer” Katsuki says and snorts, so proud of his entirely non-funny joke.

Izuku just nods again. The other boy expression hardens, anger flaring once again.

“What, can’t even talk now?”

“No, Kacchan, I just want to go home. My mother is waiting for me” he lied. It’s a good bet, Katsuki tended to let him go more easily if Izuku brought up Inko.

Not this time, apparently.

“Huh?! You trying to lie to me, shitty Deku?! You think I don’t know Auntie Inko has gone to the hot springs with the hag for the weekend?” Katsuki shouts, starting to verge from ‘really angry’ to ‘definitely pissed’ on his Explosion Scale.

Well, fuck me.

“Y-yeah, I-I know, but s-she asked m-me t-to do s-some chores w-while s-she’s g-gone a-and I really have t-to g-get s-started” Izuku replies, stutter in full place in the hope that Katsuki gets bored enough and lets him go.

For a second there, he really though today’s only worry was going to be whether to text Shinsou or not. Luckily, Katsuki is a perfect wake-up call.

“Tch, no wonder you can’t even do the single thing your mom asked of you. Auntie Inko is too good for you”, the other boy continues and here is when Izuku commits his mistake.

It’s stronger than him, at the mention of his relationship with his mother (the non-existent one) his blank but verging-on-meek expression falls, his face twisting for the briefest second. Izuku himself doesn’t really know what kind of expression he was about to make: anger? Sadness? Irritation at Katsuki’s utter ignorance? Hurt? The only thing he knows is that something clenches in his gut when Katsuki brings up the topic and his face can’t help but reflect it, if only for half a second.

And the blonde in front of him notices, because of course he does.

Bakugo’s eyes narrow at him like a hound pointing his prey. Izuku thinks he can almost see his nostrils flare at the smell of fear.

“What is it, Deku? You got something to say?” he inquires, looking for another open spot.

Izuku is quick to shake his head, the frantic movement a little more genuine than he has been during the entirety of the conversation.

C’mon, I just want to go home. C’mon!

He can’t just turn and walk away, obviously. With Katsuki, you have to let him decide when the conversation (quite a strong word for what this is, but alas) ends and simply dismissing him by turning away is a certain one-way ticket to the hospital.

So, he just stays there and prays whatever higher being decided to torment him today to let this end as soon as possible. Please and thank you.

Katsuki seems still mildly suspicious, but apparently decides to change tactic.

“Anyway, since you had all that shit to do, where were you? It’s Saturday.”

“I-I was just taking a w-walk around… I hoped to catch s-some hero f-fights” he answers, deciding it’s probably the most effective excuse.

Katsuki laughs in his face, so his bet paid off.

“I should have guessed you were around being your usual creep.” He says, smug smirk firmly planted on his face.

Izuku manages a nervous chuckle. If this is just a third of how nervous Shinsou was while being interrogated by his teachers, then Izuku had better thank him once more.

The fact is actually unfair. How can he be so indifferent to everything in life one minute, and a nervous wreck the next? Like, what is the parameter? Is it completely random? Is his brain controlled by a mad bean-size scientist that just flips the switch every once in a while?

In front of him, Katsuki brings up a hand to pass it aggressively through his hair, and, despite the effort, Izuku flinches just the tiniest bit.

The other boy clearly notices.

“Tch, you haven’t changed at all, have you, Deku?” he gets closer, invading Izuku’s space, knowing perfectly the effect it will have on him.

The scent of burnt caramel that Izuku has managed to avoid up to this point engulfs him, almost making him choke on his next breath. That has the added affect of making him realise his breathing is coming out more irregular by the second.

And he knows. That’s the worst part. The small rational part of his brain still functioning knows why. The sense of smell is the one most linked to memories and he has what could be called ‘traumatic experiences’ tied to it. He knows the reactions his body is having come from panic, irrational, while being the supposed rational response to a learned behaviour.

And still, despite knowing, he can’t fight it. He can’t slow his breathing, stop his sweating, calm his heartbeat.

“You know, at one point I almost wished you would have come to UA. Because one minute would have been enough to finally get it in that thick skull of yours that you could never be a hero, that you will never even come close to being one and that you will amount to nothing. Because you are a useless, weak Deku.”

Izuku blinks, and the next moment Katsuki is behind him, already several feet past him, laughing as he makes his way elsewhere.

Izuku starts walking again but can’t find it in him to be relieved the encounter has ended.

Growing up, he had tried to find an explanation as to why people hated him so much. Yeah, he got the whole ‘under-evolved’ stuff, but the thing is he never felt so inferior. He tried to be scientific and find the proofs to his lower level of intelligence, the facts that would irrevocably demonstrate he was part of a previous stage of the evolution of the species and deserved to be hated and mistreated.

There was, of course, the lack of a quirk. The extra toe joint and all that. He had analysed his speech abilities, his learning speed, and his knowledge and compared it to that of his peers, and he found he wasn’t so behind the others, at least by his methods. So, he wasn’t a nuisance, someone that bothered you or irritated you because he couldn’t keep up and consequently drag you down with his inadequacy. Therefore, that couldn’t be the reason of the hate. His lack of quirk, was, after all, a lack of something, so was that reason enough to purposefully search him out to beat him? Why go through all that effort? It wasn’t something that could annoy people so much they would go out of their way to let him know, was it?

He tried to picture himself in such a situation and found that he wouldn’t. But there must have been something, right?

In the end, he got to a conclusion. It was that it must have been something that he couldn’t comprehend. Since he was under-evolved, he couldn't get why people hated him so much even if he was just there breathing. They saw something in him that they couldn’t help but hate or be disgusted by.

For a while, that realisation gave him peace.

The peace didn’t last much. It was the same thing that happened with his panic response: he knew the reason, but that didn’t stop the anger, the bitterness that ate at his soul, the despair, the hopelessness.

After the period of time, once its effect was lost, the conclusion lost meaning too. He passed to his new theory: there was no reason, that was just how it was meant to be.

But the thought came back to the front of his mind while he walked home, thinking about how many things had gone wrong in his life because of that hatred.

In the end, he forgot to text Shinsou.

Chapter Text

“I think I’m going to die”, Shinsou pants, bent with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath, “Actually, I’m too exhausted to even die right now”.

Izuku laughs softly in front of him, then says with all the seriousness he can muster, “Yeah, dying is quite the hassle, let me tell you”, he hums thoughtfully, bringing a hand to his chin, “What about… collapsing on the ground with a side of hydration?” he asks.

“So smart, so innovative. You should be my life consultant”, Shinsou mutters lowly, already sprawled on the beach towel they brought for the occasion.

Izuku chuckles again while handing him the water bottle, “Am I not already?”.

He patiently waits for a response from Shinsou, who is currently chugging the water like a man stranded for a week on a deserted island, drops falling from the edges of his mouth, crazed eyes and all that.

“Mmm… I mean, kinda, but I don’t want you to get too comfortable. Your position is a prestigious one, you know”, his friend finally answers, before attacking the bottle once again.

Damn, I should have brought another one. Didn’t think that it’d have come a day I would see him drink something that’s not coffee so… passionately.

“Oh, I know. I’m really lucky” Izuku says, only half joking.

He is really lucky. This friendship (yes, he can now confirm it as Friendship) with Shinsou is definitely the best thing that happened to him in a long, looong time and, despite still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Izuku is quite sure it’s actually doing him some good. Like, some actual good. When he’s with Shinsou, his life seems to suck a little less. Or better, it still sucks the same, but at least he has someone to joke with about it.

It's been two weeks since the UA conference and they have been seeing each other regularly. In fact, almost too regularly. Izuku, being himself, is aware of the dangers of such a sudden friendship after years of what some people would call ‘abuse’ and ‘isolation’. Co-dependency, obsessive and possessive behaviours, everything of the sort, and he also knows that he isn’t above developing any of these issues. Come on, if there is an issue, whatever it may be, from bunion to mysophobia to depression, Izuku is likely to get it. At this point, he could start a bingo, honestly.

If you add to the equation his brain, which is always so nice as to provide every possible scenario of how a situation could go wrong, you get his constant state of apprehensive over-analysing.

So basically, nothing new.

Yeah, just another factor to add to his wonderful Anxiety® folder.

“That’s more like it” hums Shinsou from beside him, where he is sprawled on the ground and looking like he will sooner melt into it than decide to get up. “You know, when you tricked me into agreeing to this special kind of torture, I thought physical exercise was supposed to make your life longer, not end it sooner”.

Izuku gives him his most innocent smile, “It will, in the long run, Shinsou-kun! You will thank me one day, when you’re old and will be able to terrorise the neighbourhood’s children all on your own!”.

Shinsou squints blearily at the sun, “Can’t I terrorise children from a wheelchair?” he asks.

Izuku shakes his head, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment, “But it will be much more effective if you can still, like, run. Picture it, you, busted football in hand, chasing kids out of your garden, shouting ‘Get out of my propriety, insolent brats! Youth really has no respect these days’”, he answers, grinning cheekily.

Shinsou snorts, “Nah, that’s impossible, there will be no more gardens in the future. Maybe, like, a VR one. ‘Get out of my web-garden, you low-definition brats!’ That’s much better”.

“A meta-garden”

“A cybergarden”

“A cyberden”

Izuku gets the sudden brain image of a wrinkled Shinsou Hitoshi chasing pixelated little kids around while holding a cane and shouting ‘you low-definition brats!’ with all the fury his caffeine-addicted body can muster.

They last a total of three seconds before they both start giggling like maniacs.

Well, maybe exercise really is bad for you. I don’t think this is normal conversation between friends. But how would I know, really.

“Well, apart from chasing low-quality cyber-kids out of cyberdens, which is obviously the main goal of all of this, I also just kinda want to see you kick ass at the Sport Festivals”, says Izuku once the giggling has subsided a little.

At that, Shinsou groans and rolls on the ground, ending face down on the towel. “Don’t remind me, please” he says, words a little muffled by his position.

The Festival will begin in two days and Izuku is determined to help Shinsou in every way he can. If his friend manages to win, or even place on the podium, there’s a chance he will be transferred to the hero course and Izuku will be damned if he doesn’t do everything in his power to help him even the smallest amount. In the end, he himself will always amount to nothing, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t support Shinsou. He really is a good guy and definitely deserves to be in the Hero course more than anyone.

I mean, he decided to be my friend despite me and the circumstances of our first meeting, so this is the least I can do.

Izuku can’t even remember the last time he was so hell-bent on something, when was the last time something in his life mattered so much that he put all his efforts into it, but Shinsou deserves it and he’s not going to back down.

And obviously two weeks isn’t nearly enough for a proper training, but it will have to do.

Once Shinsou brought up the topic the day after the conference and informed Izuku of his lack of any sort of fight training, Izuku devised a specialized plan, complete with speed, flexibility and resistance training, some very basic self-defence and a whole bunch of situational analysis and threat assessment.

He skipped strength training altogether, because the limited time would have rendered it useless anyway.

He also reviewed every single Sport Festival of the last 50 years, in order to make an accurate prediction of what the three segments would entail (not that he didn’t already have some ideas about it, but still). From his analysis emerged that speed and resistance would definitely be the abilities to focus on, especially for Shinsou, who didn’t have fight training. In addition, his friend would definitely benefit from stealth and being able to keep his quirk as secret as possible. Unfortunately, this required Izuku to know the conditions of activation for Shinsou’s quirk, but he didn’t want to make the other boy uncomfortable.

After a deep breath, Shinsou had finally revealed that he needed a verbal response for the quirk to activate and this time Izuku had enough presence of mind not to get immediately lost in all the theories that flooded his head and instead simply started ehm… vehemently expressing his enthusiasm for such an incredible quirk.

He was learning, ok?

After that, his caffeine-addicted friend refrained from asking questions for some time, but, even if Izuku noticed, he didn’t press the matter. He understands better than anyone that trust is a finicky, thorny thing.

Once that was out of the way, they even came up with a little trick that would confuse the other students enough that they hopefully wouldn’t immediately figure out the requirements for the activation of Shinsou’s quirk. The boy’s knowledge of the UA rulebook came in extremely handy for that.

“Nonsense, my coffee-fuelled friend!” Izuku pauses briefly, making sure that Shinsou is looking him in the eyes before adding, “They won’t know what hit them”.

At that, the two boys break in matching wicked grins.

**

“Sho, stop it, you’ll scare the kids!” Hizashi says in his best imitation of a whisper, broad grin betraying his amusement.

Shouta just grins wider and relishes in the shudder that goes through his students at the sight. He just can’t help it. Sometimes, very, very rarely, the universe decides to make karma run its course and give Shouta this feeling of satisfaction that is only comparable to the first sip of coffee after a good 5-hour nap.

“No, you big doofus! I said stabilise! Does that look stable to you?”, Chiyo shouts some meters from them, glaring fiercely at the blond idiot, even the weirdly angled mannequin in front of them wearing what looks like an exasperated expression.

“S-sorry, sir! I mean, Recovery Girl!”, All Might fumbles to fix his mistake, but stops abruptly after a few seconds. Ah, that look. Shouta will cherish it forever, close to his heart along with his fondest memories. The look of desperation on All Might’s face when he realises his impending doom. Everyone knows what’s about to happen, everyone is waiting for the inevitable scolding. It’s clear that the Big Buffoon has no idea what he has to do and is going to have to ask Recovery Girl. Again. Speaking of the heroine, it’s also painfully clear that she’s waiting for the Number One hero to ask the question that will let her unleash her fury.

Everyone waits with bated breath.

“E-ehm… Recovery Girl… when you say ‘stabilise’ what exactly do y-“ he doesn’t even get to finish the sentence.

Ah, what a time to be alive.

“What I mean?! Are you serious, All Might? How are you supposed to teach these kids when you can’t even stabilise a broken bone? How do you go around rescuing people from collapsed buildings without knowing what ‘stabilise’ means?!” she shouts, all the fury of many decades of hero service and teaching condensed into her words.

“I know what stabilise means! I just haven’t had to do this things in some time, but-“

“DON’T YOU DARE TAKE THAT TONE WITH ME, SON! Not having to do first aid for some time is not an excuse! What, you think that because you’re the Number One hero you can ju-“

Shouta’s attentive listening is interrupted by the low cackle of his husband beside him, “I-I can’t, this- AHAHAH- this is just too fun, Shouta, help me-“.

Hizashi has a hand on Shouta’s shoulder, bent in two at the waist and trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his laughter. Shouta’s grin turns a bit softer and he says, “You don’t have to thank me”.

“If we weren’t already married, I would marry you right now” ‘Zashi says, still cackling like a maniac, his voice low enough that the 1-A students some meters away from them won’t hear them. In the background, Recovery Girl’s shouts are still going strong. Honestly, this was one of his best ideas ever.

After the whole fiasco during the conference, Nedzu had put All Might on a special ‘Teacher in Training’ program (yes, he even gave him a small pin with the acronym ‘TiT – Teacher in Training’ to put on his suit), which means the Number One hero now has to shadow the various hero teachers during their lessons, especially Shouta and Vlad. And of course, Shouta gets to decide in which activities All Might can help and how. While Shouta wasn’t exactly fond of having the Big Buffoon following him around, he could find some small advantages. This particular rescue training also involved Recovery Girl, and it was too good an occasion to let it slip.

Shouta hides his smile in his capture weapon, before closing his eyes and sighing.

Back to work, I guess.

He turns to his students, some of which are also doing a poor job at hiding their laughs, others looking shocked and a bit offended.

Expression once again even and bored he drawls out, “Ok brats, enough wasting time. First group, get in position, the others to the control room. Group A, you know your assignment.”

All Might and Recovery Girl were supposed to do a demonstration of some basic first aid, but Recovery Girl’s explanation will have to do.

Well, he demonstrated what not to do.

**

God, that was a nightmare.

Shouta didn’t think that a rescue training could ever go that bad. But that bad it went.

He and Hizashi had tried to make even-levelled groups for the exercise, but he now realises that whichever division they could have come up with would have ended in disaster. Kirishima forgot to disactivate his quirk before tending to a victim, turning what was supposed to be a ‘minor concussion’ in a broken bone and several cuts, but that was still better than Ashido, who had managed to spray the victim all over with her acid while trying to fight the villain. Bakugou didn’t even look once at the ‘victims’ and just went headfirst into a fight against Hizashi, which wasn’t just a questionable show of morals, but also a poor show of judgement, since Voice was quite the bad match for him. Todoroki tried to stabilise some victims that were on the edge of a damaged building by literally freezing the whole building and then got too caught up in the fight to retrieve them, consequently giving the ‘victims’ hypothermia.

And that was just some of the things that went down during the training. His students have power and potential, but God, Shouta can see the sheer amount of work refining that potential will need.

At least we used mannequins.

Shouta has just finished writing the report on the training and is now ready to head home and collapse for however many hours he’s been allowed, when a dreaded voice comes from the camera in the corner of the room.

“Shouta-kun, I can see you finished your work for today, wonderful! I’ll wait for you in my office!”

Shouta’s forehead has hit the desk before the voice has even finished speaking.

Every day more, I question my life choices.

Slowly and painfully, he makes his way to the Principal’s office, his brain too tired to think of the possible reasons he’s being summoned when they will be cheerfully explained to him in the next minutes. The door is of course open when he gets there, the Principal is of course already setting a second mug of tea for him and he doesn’t bother with closing the door because it of course closes on its own once he is sat in front of the Principal.

Sigh

“Shouta-kun! How was your day? I had the impression the rescue training gave a lot of interesting cues on what areas need the most attention” the Principal begins and just the remainder of that awful exercise makes something inside Shouta shrivel and die.

“You could say that. There are several areas that need attention, apparently” he grunts.

Nedzu smiles cheekily, “I’m sure you will manage perfectly as always, Shouta-kun!”. Here, the Principal pauses and turns serious, and Shouta knows they’re about the get to the real matter of the meeting.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about our little mythological figure, Eraser. We are encountering some unfortunate obstacles in the identification of the boy”.

“What obstacles?”

Nedzu hums thoughtfully and replies, “I have been made aware that the Commission is showing a certain… interest in Hiruko. The villains weren’t the only ones we wanted to keep in the dark during the conference. They have access to the reports on all villains’ attacks, obviously, but we can say that the wording of the passage about Hiruko could be considered ah… misleading.” The Principal smiles, his eyes showing all the conniving intelligence that makes Shouta glad he’s on the good side. “Someone could probably interpret it as one of my habitual network of informants. But, after All Might’s slip-up, it seems that the Commission tried to delve a little deeper in the matter. They of course turned to All Might first, but the long discussion we had after the conference made him more considerate about sensible information, so he told them he didn’t know anything about the informant, only that it was me who contacted them.”

So he can use his brain sometimes. Astounding.

“Normally, this would be the end of that. Unfortunately, this case seems different from the others. The Commission is apparently doubling on their long-time efforts to discredit UA. Add to that the pressure from the public to catch the villains who attacked the school and I’m sure you can see what a great result it would be, if they could arrest someone who can give information for the inside”.

Oh, fuck.

“They could parade the result for the public and they probably hope to catch all the others through him with their great interrogation tactics, and at the same time paint UA as unreliable and unsafe.” says Shouta and he can almost see it ‘Villains from UA attack arrested. The Commission: “The investigation was a success, despite UA trying to retain vital information”’.

Nedzu beams, “Precisely! Our friends from the commission seem certain that the only way one could have that insight is if they are part of the group and have discarded every other possibility. I admit it is plausible, but it is so short-sighted on their part” sighs the Principal, as if it pains him that someone could be so superficial in an investigation. He continues, “But, even knowing this, the interference from the Commission wouldn’t particularly worry us. No, now comes the actual problem: someone tried to hack UA network and access the email server”.

“What?” blurts Shouta. Even the Commission can’t be that dumb. How could they think that would end well?

Nedzu just nods, serene as one can be, but Shouta knows he wouldn’t take that lightly. Information is Nedzu’s reign, and if you try to steal it from him, he will make you regret it.

“They were quite skilled with it, too. I couldn’t trace it back to them, so I can’t legally sue the Commission, but I am positive it was them. No-one else would ever try it. They likely want to read the email and trace back Hiruko’s email address to him. Of course, I have now secured both the conversation and the address where they could never even hope to find them. This brings us back to Hiruko.”

“Is the boy ok?” asks Shouta, despite knowing Nedzu would have told him already if something happened to him.

“Yes, fine as always. He met with Shinsou again today, apparently” says Nedzu.

Shouta nods. Honestly, for such a smart person, finding them had been ridiculously easy. He comes to pick up Shinsou after school almost every day, even if not at the main entrance. He must know there are cameras there. The first few times he had his hood on, but one day Shinsou playfully shoved it off and even managed to say the name of the place they were going to in plain view of the camera, and lip reading isn’t even that difficult, really. After discovering they were going to Dagobah, Shouta did just a little pursuing and the boy lead him to his house. They tried to follow them through cameras, but they always ended up losing them at some point.

Yes, it wasn’t the most ethically correct thing to do, but Shouta couldn’t care less about deontology when there was a child’s life at play.

There’s some irony in that since I’m the Law and Ethics teacher, actually.

The only problem was that they still didn’t know his name, and they couldn’t exactly barge in his house in case he really worked or lived with the villains. The building didn’t have names on the intercom and all mail passed through an old inhabitant that acted as doorman for sorting. Nedzu was going to use facial recognition, but…

Realisation dawns on Shouta, “You can’t identify him anymore, right?”

The Principal nods grimly, “I am afraid so. It is plausible that they have UA computers and my personal laptop under surveillance, even if they can’t possibly have an authorization for that. So, they must be waiting for a misstep. I usually have no qualms in hacking into the national database to identify someone through facial recognition, but every chance they get to the boy before us is a chance too much. I have my ways to remain undetected, obviously, but there’s always the unknown factor of quirks. People with technology quirks tend to disappear inside the Commission particularly quickly in this country and not even I can bypass a quirk I don’t even know exists.”

Shouta hums, resigned. Everything had been going too smoothly. “So, we’re stuck? Do we increase surveillance?”

They had been discreetly keeping track of the boy in the past days. It wasn’t a full-on surveillance operation, just a check every now and then, especially when he was on the move. He went always to the same places, didn’t seem to be attending school, at least not in person, was never seen leaving the apartment with another person. Not much to work on, but that also decreases somewhat the possibility of him being interacting directly with the organization.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, Nedzu answer comes with one of his custom chilling grins, “Ah, not exactly! I am, after all, the Principal of UA! My plans will not be deterred by those obtuse government officials. As Principal of the most prestigious Hero School in Japan, I have a certain leeway in accessing databases of other schools in Japan, particularly middle schools, officially in order to ‘assess promising candidates’ and check the records of our current students. And, as far as we know, the Commission has no reason to suspect the informant to be a teenager, despite All Might referencing to them as ‘little’. So, I have begun a search, filtering the students based on the information we have. As you can imagine, since the scarcity of details on Hiruko, progress is not particularly quick.”

Shouta can imagine, indeed. They know practically nothing about the boy and the amount of records must be unfathomable.

Thank God I’m not the one sorting through that particular mess.

“There’s also the added inconvenience that the students photos and personal information, apart from the name, are not as readily available as the other details listed in the report. Of course, I can access them, but I would like to reduce the number of possible profiles to a more feasible number before hacking half the country database. Your input would be greatly appreciated in this phase.” Nedzu smiles, turning to his computer and typing something, and even the typing seems shady.

“I already reduced the range to schools in the area, supposing he hasn’t moved in the last year. And we can suppose that because I looked through every advertisement for apartment in the last 5 years and not one was for his building.”

That’s mildly terrifying, thank you.

“I’m searching through middle schools mostly, since we haven’t seen him going to school yet, but he couldn’t have skipped middle school since it’s compulsory. This also means he must be at least 15. The number of online middle schools is extremely low, but I suppose there’s still a probability, so I’m checking those as well.” starts Nedzu.

“He could be home schooled” Shouta points out, even if that doesn’t seem likely.

The Principal smiles and nods encouragingly, like they’re still in class and he’s just teaching a new topic. “He could, but he doesn’t live in a particularly well-off neighbourhood, which makes it less likely, and in any case, home-schooled children still have to take an exam to obtain the certificate and all info ends up in a dedicated database. I will check it if we don’t find anything elsewhere. Do you have any other ideas to reduce the range?”

Shouta frowns, thoughtful, “Well, he’s smart, so someone with good grades? At least above average. He seems particularly apt at quirk analysis, so maybe someone particularly good at biology? He doesn’t seem to meet regularly with anyone apart from Shinsou, so probably some issues with the classmates or the teachers. Either bullying or simply a report to the parents about him not socialising and integrating with the group; most schools tend to signal that to the parents. Didn’t look particularly fit, so maybe good grades all over, apart from PE? But if he has a mutation that helps him physically, that wouldn’t show. He apparently knows a lot about heroes, so someone strong in Quirk History.” He pauses, trying to come up with something else. “If we stick with the theory of the bad neighbourhood, then I’d exclude private schools. Apart from this, nothing comes to mind. We still don’t know anything about his quirk.”

Nedzu smiles in front of him, and Shouta has the impression that everything he just said was already included in the Principal’s search.

Damn rat.

“Yes, that’s more or less what I thought as well! Unfortunately, with the Sport Festival around the corner this matter will have to wait a little.” says Nedzu.

At the mention of the Festival, Shouta’s mood sours, the topic still sensitive after quite the passionate discussion earlier this week. “I still don’t get why we are keeping it open to everyone. It’s a security risk as big as UA and there’s just been a villain attack. The media apparently caught wind of the name ‘League of Villains’ and they are already blowing it out of proportion. If something happens during the Festival they will drag us through the mud.”  

“Your worries are valid Shouta-kun, but you know we increased security greatly. Plus, basically only relatives and heroes are being allowed entrance. The 100 seats reserved for the general public will be occupied mostly by journalists and every other attendee has gone through a thorough check, I can assure you. Too much caution would put us in as bad a position as none at all. After all, for the public that was just a fortuitous infiltration in a facility that was swiftly dealt with. No injuries, basically every villain apprehended. We don’t want to cause unnecessary panic.” explains Nedzu, despite having repeated this speech for at least 5 times in the past days, but Shouta still thinks that’s bullshit.

The whole damn Festival is a risk for the students. Whose idea was it to showcase all the quirks of the next generation of heroes on international television?

But, Shouta is tired and there’s no use going over the matter again, considering the Festival starts tomorrow. So he just grunts what could generously be interpreted as an affirmative and says, “If that is all…”

Nedzu nods and Shouta is up before the Principal has even started speaking.

“Yes, Shouta-kun. I’m sorry to have kept you this late. You better go home and rest. I feel like this year’s Festival will be full of surprises!” Nedzu says, grinning.

And isn’t that ominous.

Chapter Text

The sun is high and bright in the sky above him. The air is crisp and fresh, and a gentle wind blows through the branches of nearby trees, carrying the pleasant scent of spring, and flowers, and green things that grow from humid soil away from the hustle of the city. It’s a really nice day. A nice day to finally change his life.

Hitoshi looks in front of him, at the crowd of students he will have to beat in order to achieve his goal. A goal, not a dream, because he’s so close now he can almost taste it. It’s not abstract, blurry, and far away, not an undefined sketch of reality.

He looks up and sees the drones with the cameras, recording. He nervously adjusts the glasses on his face, thinking about the sheer amount of people who must be watching.

At least they certainly aren’t watching me.

Apart from one person, he knows. He’s sure there’s at least one teenager, glued to the screen, mumbling to himself about strategies and following his every move. Not because he wants Hitoshi to fail, like everyone has until this point, but because he wants to see how he will win. Not if. How.

‘You know, I really want to see what faces the students of the hero course will make once you beat them in the one-on-one tournament. I really hope you end up with someone nice for the group task’.

As Yamada-sensei’s voice begins the countdown in the background, a small smile manages to break across his face, despite the tension building inside him.

Everyone else will soon be watching me, too.

**

And indeed, everyone is watching. The whole of Japan at the very least. It can be through a TV screen, a computer, or a cell phone, but the attention of basically the entire country is fixed on UA Sports Festival. Some are eagerly watching it, some a little less so, some tuned in just to mock the participants, some others have even shadier reason to pay attention.

The transmission is on in every café, every bar, and every store. In one bar in particular, a lone figure is following the students of the hero course with a manic sort of interest, a second screen beside the one they’re focused on slowly spilling poison in the air, a special kind of it. The figure soaks it up, greedy, even if they already have so much inside them it’s difficult to think there’s still room for more.

And of course, the Festival is being followed from thousands of homes. Even one who recently suffered the loss of a son. It is probably more accurate to say he was taken from them, kept away for unjust reasons. Or, at least, this is what they would say. Luckily, the youngest is still with them, ready to watch those students make themselves ridiculous on screen with trials that have nothing to do with real life. The family is settling with food and drinks in front of the TV when they hear a knock on the door. A shadow is waiting for them behind it.

Like we said, some are watching from a computer or a mobile. In a secluded room, a perfectly dressed gentleman is sipping a cup of tea while he keeps track from different monitors and angles. He has another screen with lines of code running in front of him, some files opening on the one beside that.

Among all these people, a particular teenager stands out. He’s not following the Festival itself, not caring about the first positions and grumbling when the cameras focus too much on the ones in front. No, he is just looking for one student, a random purple head that is found more often in the background or among the crowd of a wide frame. He cares for the others only in the measure that they could be a problem for the purple dot on the screen, who happens to be his first real friend.

**

When Shinsou enters the arena and ends up placing 30^th, Izuku screams. He is not proud of his reaction, but fuck it, his friend just passed to the second round and that is reason enough to celebrate loudly. Despite being certain that position gained him access to the second round, he nervously jitters until Midnight announces the exact number of participants who passed.

Ok, the hard part is out. Phew.

It seems silly to think, but the first big elimination round was actually the worst one for Shinsou. A lot of people, a lot of unpredictable factors. The next rounds are going to be smaller and more contained and if he manages to keep the activation requirement for his quirk hidden, the third round is going to be much easier than it will be for the other students. Yes, there’s always a risk and his victory still isn’t certain but all he needs is an answer from hyped teenagers in a highly-stressed situation. It’s likely they won’t think before answering, particularly if they fall for the trick they put in place.

Come on, Shinsou. You can do it. You’re almost there.

**

Hitoshi pants, relieved he can let go of his control. The exertion headache is already making itself known, but it’s still bearable.

The dust is settling around them after the last fight between Elsa and Explodoboy ended when the clock hit zero. He looks at the screen while Midnight explains the teams who passed in the background.

He did it. He did it.

A grin spreads unbidden across his face, some of the tension finally leaving him. He made it to the third round. He has the whole break to rest before the one-on-one tournament.

His elated thoughts are interrupted by a voice to his left.

The boy who was on his team, the tailed one. He’s withdrawing from the competition.

Ah.

Cold washes over him and his features go back to his usual indifferent expression. The boy is looking at him now, some of the others seemingly catching on to the fact that something is wrong. Hitoshi makes sure they are looking at him before shifting his gaze to the ground and hurriedly putting his glasses back on, making a show of assuring they are correctly in place before looking back up.

Another boy who was on his team gives up his place, and Hitoshi couldn’t give less of a damn.

Honestly, it’s just a blatantly stupid move. They were given a chance to move to the next round and they threw it out the window. Even if they were brainwashed, the abilities and the strength used to pass the round were still theirs, but if they want to give it all up, it’s up to them.

This is just a school festival for them, after all. Their whole life path doesn’t hang on the outcome of the competition. And yes, he knows that there are other ways he could probably become a hero, but none as good as this one. And he’s put so much energy, so many hours just preparing for this day, he won’t feel guilty because some brats who had it easy all their life made the conscious decision to drop out.

Still, in the back of his mind, the echoes of voices from his past are getting louder, more insistent. The door that has been so securely locked in the past hours was rattled, and the darkness on the other side is leaking out.

But if these entitled, whiny children want to show how dumb and fucking privileged they are, then so be it. Not losing focus because of this will be just another proof of how much Hitoshi has fought for this. He won’t lose his cool. There’s too much on the line.

I’m not a villain. It’s their choice. I used what I was given to win.

Anger is starting to build up somewhere in the back of his mind, but he won’t let it ruin this moment. He is in the third round. He got here and he deserves it as much as any other student.

He looks at the screen and reads the name of his first opponent.

I’m not a villain. And I’m going to prove it.

**

Izuku cheers as Shinsou’s first opponent walks out of bounds. The vie girl could have been a tricky opponent given the speed of her… hair? That’s interesting actually, is that hair that looks like vines or are they actual plants? How would that work? Does this mean she is more susceptible to dehydration and lack of solar light? Izuku sure hopes she has some countermeasures thought out if that is the case.

Anywayyy, that is not the point! Shinsou won the first one-on-one!! Izuku is so proud he thinks he could cry. But no, not yet. Because his friend will win this whole competition. He will. He will slap all of them in the face with their own prejudice, force them to face the hypocrisy of their discrimination, and kick some ass in the process.

It is almost healing, in a way. Watching him make fools out of all those hero students and make them scramble to block his direct line of sight as if that is going to do anything. Until this point, no one seems to have questioned the fake activation requirement that Shinsou has been pushing since setting foot in the arena.

“Will I really be able to make it in the one-on-one fights? In the group task someone is bound to understand how my quirk works and I will be basically done at that point.”, Shinso says, munching on a brightly coloured and dubiously flavoured ice cream from the convenient store facing the beach. Izuku had discovered that, apart from his clear passion for coffee, his friend also had a taste for ice creams, but only the most weird and strangely flavoured ones. He shudders thinking about the artichoke one he had showed up with the day before.

Izuku hums, thoughtful. Shinsou is making a good point.

Well, that’s an easy fix.

“We just need to deceive them. You are right, by that point everyone would have figured out more or less what your quirk is. They will be looking for your activation requirement or what you need to do to give orders. Unfortunately, we can’t do anything about the orders, you will still need to say them out loud, but by that time they would already be under your control, so it’s better to focus on activation anyway”, he replies, eyes focused on a rabbit-shaped cloud.

The slurping coming from his right stops momentarily, and Shinsou says, “Mmmh, so what, contact? There are a lot of touch-based quirks around, but that doesn’t seem like a good idea against hero students.”

Izuku shakes his head, “There are definitely better options, too many things could go wrong with contact, not to think about the timeliness of it. You would need to touch them at exactly the right time of people would notice the gap. Let’s see…” he turns his head at looks at his friend, who looks back with his usual deadpan while still devouring the ice cream like it’s not a mix of grape, vanilla, spinach, and something blue.

Purple hair, eyebags, purple eyes, mmmh….

His eye catches on his pupils, silver highlighted by the dark purple of his irises.

That’s right, when he first told me his quirk, I also thought it could be linked to his eyes.

“I think we should go with eyesight-based activation. They will be looking for something peculiar about you and your eyes would be a good option. First year students are not that sharp, they will rely mainly on appearance to determine the activation, at least at first, and if we give them some subtle hints, they won’t look any further. Plus, one of their teachers has a sight-based quirk, they will fall on what they know best.” He tilts his head a bit, still looking intently in Shinsou’s eyes, “You never told be by the way, but are they linked to their quirk? Or just a secondary mutation?”.

Shinso, having finally finished that monstrosity he was eating, gifts him a little quirk of his lips, “Secondary mutation, I got it from my father, I think. So, eyesight, uh? You sure it will work? You figured it had something to do with my voice almost instantly”.

Izuku nods, “Yeah, it’s a stressful situation. They will find the easiest answer and stick to it. We just need to find a way to make them go where we want. The problem is that support items for quirks must be allowed by the school in advance, and there needs to be an actual reason for the request, I think.”

At that, Shinsou smirks, a small twinkle of mischief in his eyes, “Guess reading the rulebook has more advantages than I initially thought of”.

And indeed it had. The school didn’t prohibit the use of glasses, even if as accessory, as long as the lenses weren’t dark.

Izuku let the fights pass in front of his eyes, mindlessly taking notes as he thought about the next steps.

It’s good Shinsou didn’t have to fight the Support girl, it’s fun to watch her bring the hero student down a peg.

His friend’s next match will be against the Ingenium kid, and if his previous performance is anything to go by, Shinsou won’t have any problem in making him answer a question.

Still, he is very fast… he could try to push him out of bounds immediately after the start.

Izuku chews on the end of his pencil, thoughts running at the speed of light.

Until this point, Shinsou has waited till the beginning of every round to remove his glasses, another part of their deception. But in this case, that could be what makes him lose.

We can’t have that now, can we?

The arena brings him an advantage in this case. There is nothing to hide behind, so his opponent wont’ be able to avoid being in his direct line of sight. Of course, that doesn’t actually change anything, but if the other thinks it does, he could try a different strategy that gave Shinsou enough time to ask him a question.

It comes down to what the hero student thinks the activation really is. If he thinks that just having him in his line of sight is enough, or if he needs something like eye contact. Eye contact would be the best option. Can’t run without looking at where you are going. that would also be the most likely option considering that the other students hadn’t immediately fallen under Shinsou’s control once he removed the glasses.

It could still be that he needs to focus on a person to activate it… but then, why the carefulness with the glasses? No, eye contact makes sense. But will the students reach the same conclusion?

Izuku knew from experience that people with strong quirks didn’t rely too much on reflection. If Small Ingenium decided to just go for it and push him out of bounds immediately after the start, it would all be over.

While Izuku is deep in thought, he hears a chime coming from his phone. There could only be one person texting him.

Really, it’s absurd they let them keep their phones. So much oversight.

>So, I’m guessing no glasses for this one.

Izuku smiles.

That would be best, yeah<

By the way, you were amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!<

I knew you could do it!!!!!!<

>Yeah yeah, hold the praise, I still need to beat Turboboy here.

>Any suggestion from my life consultant?

Izuku bites his lips, his brain never stopping looking for the best strategy.

Our best bet is that he thinks the activation is direct eye contact, like we said before the festival<

What do you think of him, character-wise? I can’t really hear what it’s said during the fights<

>Definitely has a very big stick up his ass.

>The support girl was able to have him wear some of her equipment with no difficulty, so either majorly confident or majorly stupid.

Yeah, not a smart move. His family doesn’t rely too much on support equipment, so he probably thinks it useless against a “true-born” hero or whatever<

>Ah, so it was both confident and stupid. My favourite combo.

At that, Izuku actually laughs out loud, surprising even himself.

Guess it’s time to make him open his eyes<

>;)

***

I have my work cut out for me, uh?

Shouta heaves a heavy sigh. Iida fell for the trap so easily it was equivalent to someone telling a toddler ‘Bet I’m faster than you at putting away toys’ and watching as the child did exactly that while sipping a drink and scrolling on the phone.

That may be too elaborate an analogy. Meh, it fits.

His class would definitely need to work on risk assessment and strategy. Shinsou’s quirk is definitely powerful, but he also has many glaring weaknesses. Why would someone with basically one single weapon in his arsenal be so obvious with it?

Sigh.

On his left, Hizashi is having the time of his life. He has always had a bit of partiality for kids with voice-based quirks, and he is familiar enough with the unfairness of the entrance exam to be inconspicuously rooting for the kid. Plus, he really enjoys commenting the event, his passion for his work of radio host mixed with the pride for his students making him shine.

“And Bakugou’s win concludes the quarter finals! Now we will go on a five-minute break before moving on to the semifinals! Stay tuned, listeners, because it looks like they will be explosive.”

His husband finally closes the microphone, going for his water bottle.

“That was a terrible pun.” Shouta says.

“That was a great pun, thank you very much. And I know you think so too but think it would detract from you dark brooding image to admit it”, Hizashi replies, and, like the mature hero he is, sticks his tongue out at him.

“Very mature”. His husband unapologetically laughs in his face and lilts “That sounded a lot like a redirection to me”.

Shouta just grunts and turns to face the arena, “Whatever. What do you think so far?”.

Hizashi smiles knowingly but also turns, looking at the graphic on the big screen opposite them showing the student matches for the next fights, “Pretty straightforward, I would say. Some of your kids are definitely unhinged, though. They are too powerful to be going around using their quirks so recklessly”, he sighs, then takes on a mocking wistful tone, “But weren’t we all young and stupid once? I remember, say, thirteen to fifteen years ago, a dumb but handsome blond trying to impress his crush through some good ol’ Flirting and Fighting”.

Shouta snorts, recalling their fight in their second year. He had put in just enough effort to get to the one-on-ones and planned to lose the first quickly to avoid showing too much of his quirk. However, he had been paired with Hizashi, and they decided to have a bit of fun before Shouta walked out of bounds.

He takes on a disinterred tone, “Ah, yeah. I seem to remember a dumb blond who ended up destroying a good chunk on the arena and stopped the competition for 30 minutes so they could fix all the damage”.

The Voice hero laughs good-naturedly, “You’re never letting me live it down, are you, love?”. It makes Shouta crack a smile, “You bet I’m not”.

He turns a bit more serious before quipping, “On the other hand, I should congratulate you for your own student. Impressive strategy he got there.”

By his side, Hizashi hums, head cocking a bit like he does when looking at a puzzling piece of music, the notes not quite fitting in the melody, “Yeah, definitely. It wouldn’t fool a full-fledged hero or quirk analyst, but he would definitely already be outside of the race if he hadn’t thought of it.”, he turns to look at Shouta, a glint in his eyes, “You could say he has potential, mh?”.

The dark-haired man nods, studiously avoiding the knowledge in his husband’s eyes, “You could. But you and I both know he probably had a little help from a certain green-eyed, mythology-inspired, flight-prone informant”.

A buzzer sounds somewhere in the distance, and Hizashi starts readying up the station again, bringing his chair closer to the microphone, falling back into his hero persona. He laughs lightly, moving to press the button for his voice to be transmitted to the whole arena and the world beyond, “Like that is going to stop you”.

***

Hitoshi looks across from him on the platform, glasses already secured in his pocket, determination burning bright in his chest.

Well, here goes nothing.

Midnight is introducing the contestants to the audience, and Hitoshi is doing a conscious effort to look just above Todoroki’s eyes, at the point where the two tones of his hair meet.

Maybe I should ask Midnight to say my last words first. Something like ‘If I die here of hypothermia, remember me as I was, bitchy and over-caffeinated, and not as the icicle I’m about to be’.

His opponent is studying him, already readying his stance for what Hitoshi knows will be an impressive wave of pure, unadulterated power. For how much Hitoshi likes to be contrary and resents people who were born with the advantage of a ‘perfect’ quirk, even he must admit that the boy in front of him is the perfect specimen of hero-to-be. He has everything, a legacy, money, a nice face, an incredibly powerful and flashy quirk. He doesn’t have a single setback, no imperfection.

Well, apart from the scar.

Ah yes, the scar. Hitoshi’s whole strategy is based on that scar and on the void look on his opponent’s face.

Ok, and also on a snippet of conversation that he heard in the hallway earlier.

Wouldn’t have taken a lot to know that Endeavor is a shitty father, honestly, no person goes around daily burning people and buildings and then comes home to assemble flower crowns with his offsprings. Still, the most notable piece of information he got from that exchange was not about Endeavor less-than-optimal parenting abilities, but rather about his son freezing cold responses. Clearly, the two don’t get along.

From ‘they don’t get along’ to ‘his father burned his face causing permanent scarring’ is more than far-reaching, but it doesn’t need to be the truth, just something that gets a reaction.

“Todoroki is not your worst match, you know”, Midoriya is saying on the other end of the line. “Typically, as soon as he freezes someone, they would consider the fight over, but you can technically still use your quirk, so you will need to yield, or he needs to incapacitate you for him to win.” He pauses for a second, Hitoshi hearing the clogs in his mind turning even from the arena’s bathroom stall. “He could of course freeze your whole face, but I don’t think that’s particularly ethical, and the teachers would probably intervene.”

“Jeeze, that’s reassuring. I’m glad I called you to calm me down” he mutters, the panic he managed to keep more or less at bay until his fight against Iida bubbling closer and closer to the surface.

“You don’t need to worry, Shinsou-kun!”, Izuku hurries to say, “You can do it. You probably have like, 10 to 15 minutes before hypothermia sets in and your mental functions become too impaired to work properly. Of course, we have never tested whether your quirk is particularly sensible to conditions that slow down brain function.”, he seems to realise that is also not very encouraging, because he immediately adds, “But! Your head will be above the ice so that’s a plus.”

Why is my life at the point where risking hyperthermia everywhere but my head is a plus.

“Have you seen the guy? He’s not just actually cold, he is also metaphorically a block of ice. I don’t think I have heard him say a single word yet.”, he despairs.

“Mmmh well everyone has a trigger. He is the number two’s son, so based on their relationship you could either mock his father, mock him for never becoming like his father, or mocking for ending up becoming like his father. Honestly, not like Endeavor is that great a person.”

“Nah, Elsa here screams daddy issues, or at least that’s what I think. I also overheard him earlier having an extremely tense chat with daddy dear. Still, doesn’t mean he will answer me”.

Midoriya’s tone gets suddenly more serious, and Hitoshi is reminded of that phone call in the bathroom before he was questioned by the teachers, “You will do it, Shinsou, I have no doubts about it. I know you will find a way. You know your quirk better than anyone, and you have a determination that the other students can’t match. Use what you know and what you have, and get to that final.”

Hitoshi may not know much about friendship, but he knows that it’s a shitty move to let your friends down. So he won’t.

As soon as Midnight announces the start of the fight, Todoroki sends a lighting fast wave of ice his wave, completely encasing Hitoshi from his collarbone down to his feet, now completely unable to move.

Ok, step one: check. At least now he can’t push you out of bounds. Now you are ten to fifteen minutes away from hypothermia. Time to get talking.

The iceberg Hitoshi is in is much smaller than the one used against the tape guy, but it would still be impossible for him to get out on his own. The freezing cold is already sipping into his bones, and he’s glad that he kept his arms firmly against his side with his hands in fists, or his fingers would be already turning blue.

As it is, this will just hurt a fucking lot.

“Oh, one thing before you go. How is your pain tolerance?”

It will have to be good enough. He’s getting out of this iceberg either as a winner or unconscious.

He makes sure to look Todoroki in the eyes, despite the boy still keeping his stare elsewhere out of precaution.

Come on, Hitoshi, you are not getting any younger.

He takes as deep a breath as he can with the ice constricting his whole body. Thankfully he had the hindsight of taking a really big breath before Todoroki’s attack, so he has some precious millimetres for his chest to expand.

“Nice scar you got there. I suppose your dear daddy has nothing to do with that, uh?” he says, fighting to keep the trembling out of his voice.

Fuck, it’s cold.

Because nothing can ever go right at first try in his life, Todoroki just narrows his eyes at him, now looking him straight in the eyes.

The weight of the ice on his body is cold and suffocating and it would have made him collapse to the ground if he could. He can feel his heart trying to beat faster from the fear and anxiety, but fighting against the freezing cold.

For a second, his determination wavers. What is he doing? This is the son of the Number Two hero, he could as well have been genetically engineered to be the perfect prototype of life-saving, spandex-clad symbol of righteousness and justice. What is Hitoshi, compared to this?

He briefly shifts his gaze from Todoroki and his eyes catch on the commentators booth. Yamada-sensei is saying something, but Hitoshi doesn’t have mental capacity to spare to pay attention to that at the moment. On his right, Eraserhead is looking at him expectedly. Maybe the cold is giving him hallucinations, but his eyes seem to say ‘What’s the next move? I’m waiting’.

Hitoshi thinks about a younger version of himself, beaten black and blue, fresh cuts on his face, hungrily watching the blurry video of a hero that fights with functionally no quirk.

“I think the point for me is that maybe, one day, a kid will have to go through what I did. And maybe, just maybe, knowing that I made it, that I defied the odds will give him the strength to go on.”

Ok Subconscious, you win this time. Now it’s not the time to give up.

So, let’s start thinking. Channel your hidden Izuku.

If only every cell in my body wasn’t screaming in pain-

Pain. Todoroki has a big ugly scar on his face, and his father is known for excessive use of force.

This is just a hunch, but maybe… Hitoshi looks at the boy across from him.

He doesn’t look like a bad person. Just… hurt. Wounded. Not so different from his only friend.

From him.

“I’m sure he will be proud of you constantly putting you classmates’ lives in serious danger for something as silly as a school competition. Hoping to become as merciful as daddy when you grow up? You look on the right path. Do you even care about the pain you cause to others?”, he taunts.

Hitoshi elects not to think about what he said until after this damn fight is over.

Todoroki takes a step forward, the air on his right glittering with particles of ice, “I will never be like him”, he drawls, more emotion in his voice than he seemed to exude all day.

Got him.

His quirk immediately takes hold, and he wastes no time before ordering, “Free me from the ice, without injuring me or yourself, and in such a way that I don’t risk ending up out of bounds”.

Better safe than sorry.

Todoroki walks towards him at a painfully (literally) slow pace. When he is close enough, his left arm touches the ice and starts to slowly melt it from around Hitoshi.

Too slowly. The cold has veered into pain by now and Hitoshi fears his concentration could slip enough for him to lose his control.

“Faster”, he says, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Suddenly, Todoroki left side bursts into flames, burning off a good chunk of his uniform in the process.

But it does get the ice to melt faster, so Hitoshi won’t complain.

Once he is finally free, every bone in his body in trembling, his teeth are chattering, and he is quite tempted to ask his opponent to hug him for a bit, just to stave off the cold. He doesn’t, though, and instead gives him the order that will take him to the final.

“Careful not to hit anything, walk out of bounds”

Todoroki does.

***

“Here you go, sweetie, just keep the blanket until you need to go back on the ring, and try to be careful. Good luck, boy.”, Recovery Girl gives him a small pat on the arm before sending him off.

He thanks her and walks out of the small infirmary of the arena. His phone has buzzed several times since he stepped off the platform and was escorted to the infirmary. He is sure that’s Midoriya congratulating him on the win. However, there is something he needs to do before answering.

Ah, sometimes having a conscience really sucks.

He slowly makes his way to the preparation room Todoroki was in before their match and knocks lightly before opening the door. Unfortunately for everyone, including himself, his thinking is sometimes accurate, and the boy is in the room, sitting on a bench against the wall, hands clasped and looking blankly at the floor.

He whips his head up when he enters but doesn’t say anything.

Scrap that, it always sucks. Why am I doing this again?

Because you can’t deal with hurting other without reason, and you have a lot of issues related to guilt since your parents abandoned you, answers promptly a voice in hid head that sounds worriedly like the chipper tone of UA’s Principal.

Yeah ok, let’s move on, shall we?

“Hey”, Hitoshi start awkwardly, hands in his pockets and probably looking like he wants to be anywhere but standing in that same room.

“I just wanted to tell you that I don’t actually think you enjoy hurting others. It’s just your quirk, and you don’t, like, completely freeze a person from head to toe or whatever. I still think you father is one giant flaming dick. I won’t ever understand what it means to have a parent like that who expects you to walk his same path, but I imagine it’s not the best when the parent is like him.”, he shrugs, unsure of where is going despite being the on talking, “I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not one of those douchebags that assume you will end up like your father just because you are powerful, look stuck-up, and average one word every 90 minutes.”

Todoroki is looking at him like some people look at a particularly shiny species of bug.

Well, my job here is done.

With a strange feeling in his chest, Hitoshi turns around and starts walking out the door.

“If you think my father is… a giant flaming dick, like you said. Why did you make me use his fire?”, he finally asks, a small, almost imperceptible tremble in his voice.

Hitoshi is so stunned that all he can do is turn around and look at the other boy with his mouth agape. Misinterpreting his silence, the other continues, “During the fight, you… you had me use my left side. I never do unless it’s to melt my ice and never produce flames. You said that you don’t like Endeavor and that he uses too much force. So why did you make me use his fire?”

Todoroki is looking him in the eyes now, intently. It’s a heavy stare to feel on your skin. Charged.

So, this is what it’s like. Don’t fuck this up, Hitoshi.

“In the same way in which I don’t think you are just your father’s son, I am sure that’s not your father’s fire. Sometimes, looking at yourself from the perspective of others can do wonders. To me, you are a teenager with a lot of issues, a shitty father, and a lot of potential. But you need to own it; your quirk, your fire, your future. I may not understand what’s it like to come from a legacy, but I know very well how it feels to have everyone thinking you will end up as the worst version of yourself, simply assuming there is no other way. I decided long ago that others’ expectations don’t mean shit. The first one that needs to change their idea of your quirk is you, everyone else will either follow or go fuck themselves”.

This time, Hitoshi doesn’t immediately turn around; he stays put, holding the other’s gaze, trying to convey what he’s not sure he managed to with his words.

Todoroki holds his gaze, mismatched eyes so intense it seems like he’s trying to look through him.

“Have you ever heard of quirk marriages?”

***

Shinsou did it. He did it!!

Izuku is so excited he can’t seem to stay still. His friend is in the final. The final! Once he wins, he will be able to transfer to the hero course and train in Eraserhead’s class, the hero he always admired. He must be so happy right now. One fight, just one final fight and victory will be his.

Izuku doesn’t think he has smiled this much in ages.

He has already sent several texts to congratulate his friend on the win. He hopes Shinsou will be able to warm himself back up before the start of the next fight, he will need to be in his best form to beat-

His thoughts come to a screeching halt, so sudden Izuku can almost hear the noise of wheels on the pavement.

Ah yes, how could I forget. I never get to forget, do I?

He shakes his head.

Stop wallowing. This is not about you, it’s about Shinsou. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

His eyes fall to his phone, still on the sofa, next to the remoter. He could call him. Izuku knows there’s one sure way to get Katsuki to answer. He also knows that Katsuki is not stupid and there is a non-zero chance that he has figured out the glasses were just a deception tactic.

He slowly makes his way to the sofa, reaching for the phone.

I should do it. This could be his only opportunity.

Still, he knows his friend wouldn’t want him to. He already tried.

Pieces of a conversation come back to him now. The beach, the sound of the waves, muted by the sheer amount of gunk between them and the shore. The sun, shining bright and bold overhead. A soaked t-shirt falling down his shoulder, too big on his small frame. A friendly touch, stopping his rumbling but not his thoughts.

“You don’t need to tell me anything, especially if you are not ready, especially if it will hurt you. If I come face to face with him, I will beat him in another way. You don’t need to make any more sacrifices.”

“But you are my friend. I want to help you.”

“You help me by being comfortable around me, by not hurting, by moving on. It’s more than enough for you to be my friend.” Izuku could feel the smile in his voice when Hitoshi said, “Give me some credit, Izuku. Plus, I need to get back at you for scaring the shit out of me when we first met.”

Izuku puts his phone down and focuses on the screen. He has a small smile on his face.

I shouldn’t have worried. He’s got this.

***

After his eye-opening heart-to-heart with Todoroki (“Call me Shouto”) about more repulsing parts of their society, all Hitoshi honestly wanted to do was go home, shower away the trauma and sadness, and faint until the next day.

Who knew the cure to insomnia was taking part in an incredibly dangerous and possibly life-changing competition, having a very close brush with hypothermia, and bonding with an emotionally stunted boy over trauma. Should have thought of that before.

However, one last obstacle stands between him and blissful unconsciousness. A loud, bratty, explosive obstacle. Said obstacle is now growling (literally, like a dog) at him from across the fighting platform, blood-shot eyes looking like their own explosions. Everything about him screams fury, his hands at the ready in claws by his sides.

Unfortunately for him, all his intimidation factors have no effects on Hitoshi.

First of all, he has faced scarier things than Bakugou Katsuki in his life, like, for example, a very big cockroach, Todoroki, Nedzu, and a particularly vicious hamster, among others. Second of all, Hitoshi has some things to settle with the rabid teenager.

From the other half of the fighting area, he sends a smirk to the blond. The growling intensifies.

Good gods, he should go into heavy metal instead of heroing.

Midnight is finishing up recommendations, wearily eyeing Explodoboy.

Yeah, now you are worried. How ever did you let him get this far, uh?

It’s a rhetorical question, of course. Hitoshi knows why; Bakugou has a powerful quirk and a clean file.

It’s finally my time to even out the scale a bit. I’m going to enjoy this.

He removes the glasses and puts them in his pocket. Bakugou is watching him, suspicious. He still doesn’t look into the other’s purple eyes, but Hitoshi knows deception is not likely to hold for much longer.

It’s no matter. He will lose in any case.

On Hitoshi’s left, Midnight finally gives them the start. Immediately, Bakugou launches himself at him, right arm ready to strike, shouting some unintelligible gibberish.

Unfortunately for him, he has been fighting all day, and the platform is long. A few seconds are all Hitoshi needs.

“Do you really think you will ever amount to anything more than a pathetic bully?”, Hitoshi asks, voice raised to be heard over the noise.

Bakugou falters for a second, eyes widening, before shouting, “What did you just say, you fuc-“.

Underwhelming.

Now that Bakugou is under his control, Hitoshi takes his time slowly getting closer, studying him.

So, this is him. The one that gave Izuku all those…

Scars doesn’t even seem the right word. He barely got to see a few, but they were horrifying. Hitoshi has his fair share of marks on his skin, but the one on Izuku’s shoulder…

Scars doesn’t seem the right word because they are not healed. He can see it when he looks in tired green eyes, when he talks to his friend and finds him far away, somewhere he knows it will take a lot of time to drag him out of.

“Walk to the edge of the ring, stop right before being out of bounds”

Unfortunately, his quirk doesn’t allow him a lot of retribution.

Oh well, one is better than nothing.

Hitoshi walks until he is right in front of Bakugou, step a little to right and says, “Turn around”.

The purple-haired boy smiles, serene,… and proceeds to break his nose, open palm going straight to his opponent’s face. The hit makes Bakugou stumble backwards as control returns to his mind. Then he falls out of bounds.

***

On the screen, the three students on the podium are receiving their medals, a boisterous All Might clearly dubious about how to deal with the apparent lack of enthusiasm of the best scorers.

“I trust this has been a fruitful watch, Tomura”, start a deep, old voice.

“It has, Master.”

The first voice hums, satisfied. “Have you found what you were looking for?”

The lone figure in the bar grins, yellow teeth ominous in the dark, “Oh, I have”.