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I have never been good at talking to others. In person or texting. Texting is actually new to me because… before I never had anyone to text. I like watching others, taking in who they are by who they act. It was the only way I could be safe, to judge Father’s moods.
I like watching him the most. Midoriya. He’s the most interesting of my classmates. He changes as he interacts with everyone. Subdued around Bakugo. Shy around Uraraka. Sharp and intelligent when around Iida.
Oh, there’s some traits that are always there and no one seems to notice how he seems to… almost float if that’s the right word, as he talks to people.
I’ve never seen someone change around people like that. Father is always the same. Brash, angry, demanding. Sometimes he restrains himself, as appropriate, but he almost never bothers. Fuyumi is soft with me and subdued around Father, but she’s always the same. Kind, gentle eyes. I don’t know how to tell her I’m not fragile anymore.
I wonder how Midoriya would change around Fuyumi. He seems so wary around all the teachers, even Aizawa-sensei and All Might-sensei. Though he’s much more tense around All Might-sensei, no matter how much happiness he projects. Aizawa-sensei saved us and yet… I get the feeling that Midoriya still doesn’t trust Aizawa-sensei.
His response to that… that dog of a police chief was placating. It infuriated me, but he… he took it in stride, like he… he expected to be blamed. I don’t understand. He’s quiet around teachers, other heroes, but this was entirely different. He had folded in, looked even smaller than I had ever seen him. It was almost like when he was around Bakugo, but the feeling was entirely different. It was strange.
Everyone else stays the same, no matter who they’re around. But when I’m watching Midoriya, it’s like he’s an entirely different person when he’s around someone else. He merges those people together if he’s interacting with several people, but I want to know who he really is.
I want to know why he shifts when he’s around other people, and while all of his reactions feel true, I want to know why it still feels like he’s hiding something. But I don’t know how to ask. How would one ask anyways? Half the time I can’t even find the words to talk to someone else.
I groan and drop my head into my hands. Maybe I’m in over my head. But… glancing over my notebook to where Midoriya is chatting with Iida and Uraraka, he looks entirely carefree, smiling, happy, but there’s a part of him that’s still watching, waiting. Waiting for what I don’t know. And I know he’s holding something back. I want to know what he’s hiding. I want to know who he is. And I’m not even sure why.
But there’s something about him that fascinates me.
Shifting Puzzle Pieces
Todoroki has that look on his face again.
Sometimes Ochako catches him like that, with his brows pulled low and pressing his lips together like he’s thinking. He gets that look when he’s concentrating. Ochako has seen him like that during training, when he’s deciding how to apply his Quirk; when he asks questions no one knows the answer to; and when he’s looking, particularly, at Deku.
Not that Ochako doesn’t understand. Deku’s her best friend. He has a sense of magnetism to him—not a Quirk that he inherited from his mother, but a natural draw that pulls people to him. For Ochako, it was his kindness.
But Todoroki is… different. Not bad, Ochako thinks. Just different. Intense.
The way Todoroki looks at Deku feels like he is someone to unravel, a scattered puzzle to put together.
“Is something wrong?” she asks once when she catches him looking. He doesn’t respond. “...Todoroki?”
He blinks, shaking himself like he’s just heard her.
“Hm?”
“Is something wrong,” Ochako repeats. “You keep looking at Deku.”
“I…” Todoroki’s jaw works. “Don’t you think that Midoriya hides things, sometimes?”
Ochako frowns. She’s not sure what Todoroki means by that, at least not in regards to Deku. It’s true sometimes Deku is reserved about himself, but she’s never felt that he isn’t genuine.
“Well,” she says, trying to find a response. “I mean, doesn’t everyone? Friends don’t have to know everything about each other.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Todoroki breathes in and then sighs. “Just… he’ll act like a different person. Around others. I want to know why.”
The curiosity Ochako feels begins to turn into concern.
“Don’t pry, Todoroki,” she says finally, and Todoroki nods. But his gaze has already drifted back. Away from her, and to Deku again.
Todoroki watches Deku. And Ochako watches him.
Shifting Puzzle Pieces
Tenya looks up from his work and frowns in contemplation. Todoroki is doing it again, staring at Izuku as though he could solve the universe’s problems if only he watches him intently enough. Tenya has watched it happen many times over the months they’ve been in school together.
Gaze flickering over to his best friend he notices him talking quietly with All Might, posture intent and focused on his mentor’s words. As it should be.
Todoroki, though, seems to see something deeper than Tenya does. Curiosity stronger than his work drive, Tenya sets his pen down and strides over to Todoroki.
“You study him a lot,” Tenya says. “As if he holds the secrets to a problem you need to solve. Why?”
“He’s…different with different people. I’m not sure how to explain it, talking to people isn’t my best skill, but he seems to wear different masks for different people. Open and…joyful when he’s with you and Uraraka, tense when he’s with teachers or adults. I want to understand.” Todoroki’s head tilts as he looks over at Tenya, that considering expression now focused entirely on him.
Tenya considers what Todoroki had said as he looks back over at Izuku. At last he speaks, carefully mulling over each word before speaking it. “I have seen the differing ways Izuku acts around adults in authority and his peers. However, I think most of us act differently around adults, especially responsible adults, than we do around those our own age. It is natural, not something I think you need to worry about.”
Todoroki sighs and shakes his head. “I’m not worried about it so much as just…I want to understand why he is like that around everyone.”
Tenya frowns. “I don’t think it is your place to pry into his life like that, Todoroki.”
The conversation ends, but Tenya does not stop keeping an eye on Todoroki.
Shifting Puzzle Pieces
“For this exercise we’ll be working on your interclass cooperation. Two teams of two will battle to secure a package hidden within the city before time runs out. The team in possession of the bag when the buzzer sounds will be declared the winner. One student from each class will be paired up as follows…”
Neito tunes out the rest of the announcement to scan the list for his name.
There. Monoma Neito paired with… Todoroki Shouto. Damn what a pain. Of all the 1A bastards he’s stuck with the one that thinks he’s god's gift to UA. Just great.
He’s staring hard at the jerk, which is why he can tell immediately that Todoroki is not looking at the board like everyone else is. Instead the 1A poser is looking at… Neito turns his head slightly to follow his line of sight and has to resist the urge to snarl.
Midoriya.
Todoroki. Is watching Midoriya.
He’s not listening to instructions or checking the pairings or doing anything that would indicate he cares at all about this exercise, and why would he? He’s already hailed as one of the greats from this year’s crop of hero students. What’s one failed class to the likes of him?
Neito stalks over as soon as he’s allowed to, grabbing Todoroki by the shirt and giving him a shake so he’ll stop staring at how Midoriya is walking up to Setsuna with a bright excited smile.
“What. The fuck. Is so important?” He snaps, each word chipped as if from a block of ice— fitting considering who he’s talking to.
Todoroki blinks at him. “Just trying to understand.”
Neito frowns and makes to give the boy another shake so they can start planning how they’ll take down their opponents but the 1A boy continues unhindered and Neito is forced to accept that while he might need to do all the work this time at least he has a powerful quirk at his fingertips.
“I don’t understand how he can smile like that to someone he barely knows but he’s tense when he talks to the teachers.”
Neito narrows his eyes. “Are you stupid?”
Todoroki blinks at him again, slow and languid and confused. “No?”
Neito releases him with a scoff. “It’s called a mask stupid. Everyone has them. Heck heroics is practically based on them. You have to be able to reassure civilians that they’ll be fine while also glaring the villains into intimidation. You can’t do both well without developing personas and practicing faces. It’s practically the core tenet of heroism.” He pauses to cultivate his harshest glare and pour every bit of antagonism he has into his next words as he jeers, “ Everyone knows that.”
“But I’m not talking about heroics!” Todoroki shoots back and it’s infuriating that he isn’t at all upset at Neito’s words, merely remaining frustrated in his confusion. “I’m talking about here, at UA!”
Neito wants to be done with this conversation yesterday. The exercise is about to start and if they’re up first without having planned at all then Neito might just have to engage in some friendly fire to let off some of this building steam. For now he soothes his ire by getting right up in Todoroki’s face and hissing, “If he smiles at everyone then he’s probably just trying to make friends or make sure he’s well liked. And if he’s tense when talking to the teachers here even though they’re heroes?” He shrugs mock casual and grins with teeth. “Well maybe he’s used to having bad teachers.”
Shifting Puzzle Pieces
When Katsuki walks into the kitchen to find stupid Candy Cane sitting and staring at him, he almost turns back around, because fuck this.
Of course, knowing the asshole, that would probably just mean Half’n’Half would just follow him — and also, it’s breakfast time, and Katsuki’s not skipping out on the most important meal of the day because something’s got under Elsa’s skin.
So Katsuki just stomps to the fridge and grabs his food, before slamming it in front of him on the counter, staring stupid Peppermint Face in his stupid eyes.
“What?” he growls, slamming a spoon down into his bowl.
Stupid Penguin stares back at him, unblinking — because of course he does — and Katsuki shoves a mouthful of bread into his mouth to avoid having to say anything else.
It doesn’t help with the anger building under his skin, but it does keep him from trying to blow off Icyhot’s head off (again) and taking out the kitchen counter instead (also again).
“Well?” he asks again once he’s done chewing. That poor excuse of a Canadian flag hasn’t moved yet, just kept at it with that creepy stare of his, and Katsuki fights back an uneasy shiver. He scowls. “What, mooning after Deku not enough for you anymore?”
Something flashes in Dumbass Romeo’s eyes, and Katsuki’s scowl turns into a snarl — finally, a reaction.
Unfortunately, Failed Popsicle reins it in quickly, only settling for a slow blink and a slight frown that sets Katsuki’s blood boiling.
(How no one else seems to realize Matchbox Face is a complete asshole is beyond him, but whatever, Katsuki already knew most of everyone around here was stupid.)
“No,” he finally says. And then, unblinking again, he adds, “Midoriya’s teachers… Before UA… Were they… bad?”
He says the word ‘bad’ like he can’t quite wrap his head around it, like it’s a riddle it’s trying to solve, and it’s so fucking ridiculous Katsuki can’t hold back his snort.
Ice Cream Cone blinks and nods slowly. “I see,” he says, even though Katsuki hasn’t really said anything. He stands up to leave, and Katsuki chokes on his rage.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing leaving now?!”
Olaf smiles back at him and bows insultingly lightly. “Thank you for your help,” he says, and then swans out of the room before Katsuki can try to stop him.
“I’m going to kick your ass later!” Katsuki shouts after him, grinding his teeth and digging his nails into the table. “You’re going down, Candy Face!”
If that asshole answers anything, Katsuki doesn’t hear it — probably for the best, since he never really has anything worthwhile to say.
Shifting Puzzle Pieces
I didn’t mean to be noticeable. But we’re all training to be heroes, so I suppose I should have suspected it. Or no, not suspected, but rather expected it. I don’t get it. We’re supposed to be heroes. So why was no one else concerned? Why did no one else care that Midoriya became someone different every time he interacted with someone else?
Everyone keeps saying it’s Midoriya’s business and I shouldn’t pry, but… Midoriya told me… Midoriya was the one that interfered when he saw something was wrong. He told me it was a hero’s job, it was the essence of being a hero, meddling in things, in other people’s problems when they weren’t asked. He exemplified it.
I think that the others, except maybe Monoma, were wrong. Bakugo certainly seemed to confirm it with his snort. But… there’s something about him. I want to see all of him and not only ever just parts of him. I could ask. That would be the simplest way. But then I remember the last time I asked him something of a serious nature.
He denied it.
He denied it frantically, anxiously, saying, “It’s not like that.” But clearly it was like something. I wish I knew how to foster trust. How to let people know I wanted to listen, be there for them. But it’s something Father never taught me. I’m not sure if I could be more frustrated. No one else seemed to understand.
I know about masks and bad teachers. I know what it means to disguise yourself to be safe. But I’m finally learning what it feels like to be safe. And I don’t understand… why it feels like Midoriya never feels safe, even amongst friends.
I want to know everything about Midoriya. I want to know how he smiles when he thinks no one is looking. I want to know how he dances when he’s alone. I want to know how he walks when he’s not trying to meet anyone else’s expectations of how he should appear to be. Because he changes that too. I’m not even sure he notices. But it’s fascinating.
All the pieces, all the faces that Midoriya wears… I’ve only seen pieces. I want to see the whole thing together, when Midoriya isn’t splitting himself into hairs, when he’s not pretending.
I want to see it all.
Shifting Puzzle Pieces
Individually, others watched him. Watched Todoroki watch Izuku with a kind of intensity that frightened them. Maybe not all of them. Maybe it was just Izuku’s other friends. Because Monoma was just frustrated that Todoroki Shouto, one of the golden stars of Class 1-A, was more focused on a fellow classmate than doing his best, rather than trying to work with others. Monoma knew that his only hope of making it as a hero was by working with others but he struggled with it. Bakugo Katsuki simply thought Todoroki was being stupid, caring about fucking Deku (his words) because honestly, how could Deku of all people be important? the answer was complicated, the way it always was.
To those that saw, to those that asked Todoroki and talked to him about it, it felt like a growing obsession and they all knew how dangerous those could be. No one interfered. No one knew how to. It wasn’t like he was stalking the boy. No. He was just watching. There wasn’t any harm in that. Right? Todoroki wasn’t doing anything. Izuku seemed oblivious.
None of it mattered. Todoroki’s staring, his observation, they weren’t doing any harm. At least no harm that they could see.