Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the average person’s lifetime, there’s one world-changing event that occurs in which they can remember the exact moment they first learned of it. Where they were, what they were doing, who they were with. It could be a natural disaster, a devastating villain attack – or even some personal tragedy within your inner circle that was impactful enough to affect you to such a world-shattering degree.

For Izuku Midoriya, you could say that it was a combination of those last two.

He was in the eleventh hideout when it happened. He was curled up in his favorite chair, still wearing his limited-edition All Might pajamas that his father absolutely loathed, a notebook laying open-faced in his lap and a pencil clenched tightly in his fingers. He had already been tuned in to a news channel that exclusively covered hero sightings and their fights against villains, feverishly filling the notebook in his lap with any statistics or theories that came to his racing mind while he watched the heroes in action. That’s why, when the channel abruptly changed to an aerial view of a ruined cityscape, shakily zooming in on two monolithic figures facing each other down in the center of the carnage, he didn’t miss a single moment of the brutal slugfest that followed.

Izuku Midoriya was fifteen years old when he saw his father crushed into the pavement (for the second time) by his long-time rival – the Symbol of Evil once again defeated by the Symbol of Peace.

All caught on live television and broadcasted nationally. That had to smart.

He had worried when he heard of how his father’s ‘successor’ had conducted business at the U.A. training camp – or, more accurately, worried of how helplessly the heroes seemed to be reacting when one of their star pupils had been kidnapped right out from under their noses. He had even voiced his concerns, but his father had brushed him off with that same wide, knowing smile, telling him that all would be well. That he could trust Shigaraki to carry through with his plans.

His worry had skyrocketed when he had seen the press conference that U.A. had hosted not hours prior to the dramatic battle, but by then it was too late.

The boy let out a shuttered breath, setting his pencil and notebook aside before bringing the heels of his palms to his eyes, rubbing them as an ache began to throb between his temples – his quirk’s reaction to the violent flaring of One For All and All For One, no doubt. After sensing its powerful relatives coming out to play so soon after analyzing a banquet of powerful quirks in action via the hero network, it likely wouldn’t shut up until he gave it something new to play with. How annoying.

Just as he was considering going to the kitchen to retrieve an icepack, the cellphone that laid half-buried under quirk notes on the coffee table in front of him began to ring – causing him to tense at the sudden interruption. Unease fluttered in his stomach, and he stared at it for several moments before finally reaching for it.

There were only four people who had access to his phone number. His father, his mother, Kurogiri (and, by extension, Shigaraki. He still refused to give the hot-headed flake his number directly), and… The doctor.

He sighed wearily, seeing that it was, in fact, Garaki who was phoning him. The man honestly gave him the creeps. It was only the fact that he was fanatically loyal to Izuku’s father that he trusted him at all. Accepting the call, Izuku wasn’t even surprised when the portly scientist skipped right past the pleasantries. He always did, after all, crisis or not.

“I assume you know what’s been going on?” The man’s wizened voice spoke through the phone’s speaker, staticky due to the combined securities of both of their locations.

“Of course I do. I trust him to have a plan, Doctor. He wouldn’t just let himself get caught without one.” Izuku answered tiredly, watching the post-scene coverage with little to no interest. His father had already been carted away from the scene in what could only be described as a technologically advanced iron maiden. Without the spikes, hopefully.

“Hmphs. He has a plan, alright – whether it’s a good one has yet to be seen.” The doctor quipped hotly. Izuku couldn’t help but bristle a little at the aggression. His father was never wrong. “He’s left it all to Shigaraki, Boy. The League, his plans – even the Nomu. I know how close the two of you are, but tell me: does that really sound like a good idea, to you?”

No, no it didn’t. Izuku hated when he agreed with the doctor.

“Shigaraki… Isn’t that bad.” The boy tried, wincing at how lame his rebuttal sounded. From the scoff on the other end of the call, the doctor had heard the lack of faith in his words, too. “He has Kurogiri, and the League. Dabi seems reasonable enough, at least, and Mr. Compress can get them out of almost anything. Not to mention the others.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fully aware that they’ll survive.” Garaki sniffed disdainfully, and Izuku could just see him rolling his eyes. “But they certainly aren’t going to thrive. Not for a while, at least, and Shigaraki isn’t going to be a symbol of anything anytime soon. Every day they blunder about without Sensei’s guidance, the empire that he has slowly begun to rebuild will crumble further, until they -and by extension, we- are nothing more than a laughingstock. An underdog.”

He paused, obviously giving Izuku a chance to really process what he had to say. “I don’t know about you, boy, but I’ve lived far too long and worked far too hard side by side with your father to ever be willing to be demoted back into the rank of an underdog.”

Izuku dreaded where this was going. Dreaded it with every inch of his being. But the doctor had a point: despite the boy’s disinterest in the limelight and overall reluctance to dabble too much in his father’s business, that certain part of himself that his father was so proud of, that arrogance and indomitable will that the man had fostered for so long, recoiled at the idea of allowing his mentor’s hard work to go to waste at the hands of a crusty-faced man child who, despite being the leader of an increasingly-infamous villain group, lacked any form of leadership skills whatsoever.

He sighed again, switching his phone to speaker mode so that he could set it aside and return to massaging his temples. “Just what are you expecting me to do about it, Garaki?” He asked flatly, deeply regretting answering the phone. Shouldn’t he at least have a grace period to mourn his father’s (almost certainly temporary) incarceration before having to put up with the man’s fanatical followers? “You know my father wanted me to stay in the shadows unless an emergency cropped up.”

“Oh, and this isn’t an emergency.” The old man had the nerve to drawl, only furthering Izuku’s ire. “I’m not asking you to march into the HPSC headquarters to make your dramatic debut, Boy. Only to -at least temporarily- join Shigaraki’s little band of misfits. Help him recover from his blunders – or better yet, try to make sure he doesn’t make any more of them. I’d feel much better about respecting Sensei’s wishes and providing my eventual support if someone with half of his intelligence was actually around to make sure my resources were put to proper use.”

From anyone else, being told that you were only half as smart as your father might be considered to be an insult. From the doctor, referencing Izuku’s father… The boy actually felt like he should be flattered. Just a little.

That didn’t make him any more keen to join the League of Villains, though. Unfortunately, Garaki was a smart old coot – and he knew exactly how to present things in a way that Izuku couldn’t help but see the sense behind them.

Did he mention how much he hated the doctor?

“…I’ll do it, under certain conditions.” He said at last, straitening his posture and folding his hands in such a way that he knew made him look exactly like his father. “I won’t be active in the field – or even publicly seen, if we can get away with that. I’ll have final say on any nomu support that Shigaraki may receive – which is only fair, considering how many of them I’ve helped you make.” He demanded, his brows furrowing slightly as he thought. There had to be some way to make this feel less like a chore handed to him from his father… Oh!

He leaned forwards towards the phone, sharp red eyes locked onto the blank screen with an intensity that could be misunderstood to be from his father – but, in all actuality, was most certainly from his mother. “I want that quirk that we got recently – the one from that underground fighter that we stumbled across. Stranglehold, I think he called himself? It should help to overcome my time requirement until I manage to shorten it to a more versatile degree.”

The doctor was silent for a moment. Then, he chuckled – actually chuckled like the deranged mad scientist that he was. “Very well, I’ve got no complaints about your conditions. As soon as Kurogiri is finished taming Shigaraki’s tantrum, I’ll have him warp to your coordinates and bring you to me for the quirk transfer. Be ready to go by then. You’re in bunker eleven, correct?”

Izuku wasn’t even going to question how he could know that. “Right. I’ll be ready.” He promised, steeling himself for the trouble that he was in for. He paused, thinking. “One more thing, Doctor. Not a word of this to my mother. Understand?”

Garaki laughed again. “Yes, yes, don’t worry; I won’t disillusion your precious mother to her son’s supposed innocence. I simply must meet this elusive creature in person one of these days. How a single woman can cow two gods among men so easily, I’ll never understand.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. The second rendition of All For One that flowed within his veins hardly made him a ‘god among men,’ no matter what his father and the doctor liked to think. “I’ll see you soon, Garaki.” He said simply, ending the call before the man could even respond and rising to his feet. Grabbing the remote, he turned off the television, pausing as he caught a glimpse of himself in its reflection.

Vibrantly scarlet eyes stared back at him, darkened by shadows that looked even more pronounced than he had remembered. His unruly bush of snow-white hair was just as untamable as ever. The soft roundness of his features were a gift from his mother, and the freckles that adorned his cheeks were a rebellion all of his own – but it was undeniable that he was his father’s child.

Summoning up a few dredges of tired willpower, his cheeks dimpled as his lips quirked into a sharp, too-wide smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It wasn’t a natural expression: his father had been training him on how to mimic his signature sneer since he had first thrusted his mantle upon Izuku’s shoulders, shortly after he manifested his quirk.

The false smile dropped, melting into a more reserved countenance that was far more comfortable to him. He stared for a moment longer before turning away, hastily making his way towards his room to begin gathering whatever he may need for an extended rendezvous with the League of Villains.

“It’s time to get to work.” He muttered to himself, ignoring just how unenthusiastic he sounded even to himself. All for One throbbed within his mind, the promise of receiving a new quirk exciting it into activity, static buzzing in his palms – where two small holes resided. “I’ll make you proud, Father.”

Chapter Text

Izuku’s hand was still flexing as he stepped out into the corner of (another?) dimly lit bar, periodically tensing into a rigid claw as he tested his new quirk’s hair-trigger activation. It was relatively simple in function, allowing the user to lock their hand into a near-unbreakable death grip. It was actually pretty impressive that its previous holder had utilized such a basic ability to ascend as highly as he had within the illegal fighting circuits.

He’d name it Stranglehold in the man’s honor.

As Kurogiri’s portal silently shrunk closed behind him, the unnoticed fledgling villain took a few moments to collect himself, his eyes making a sweep of the room to take stock of its inhabitants. All in all, it had been just over an hour since his father’s defeat; just enough time to change into something more presentable than his ‘t-shirt’ shirt and shorts and swing by the doctor’s lab to pick up Stranglehold before coming to meet the League. It was, by all rights, completely fair for them to still be licking their wounds.

But did they have to look so weak while they were doing it? Dabi and Spinner sat together at a table across the room, speaking quietly while they dressed their respective wounds. Magne seemed asleep from her place slumped over the bar (seriously, when had they gotten another bar?), but she may have just been resting her eyes, and Toga was helping Twice sew up a large gash in his costume. Mr. Compress was conversing with Kurogiri, looking far more ragged than he typically kept himself and shooting glances in Izuku’s direction as the solemn warper polished an already-clean glass. (At least someone had noticed his entrance.) Last, but certainly not the least…

Shigaraki sat silently at the bar, slumped over in his stool with his back to Izuku. A couple half-disintegrated stools around him were the only remaining remnants of his supposed tantrum, and even from here Izuku could hear the irritating sound of jagged nails against skin as he scratched at his neck, muttering angrily to himself.

The young heir considered his options, weighing the pros and cons of simply lurking in the corner for a while longer, or subtly seeking out a room to claim for the night and introducing himself once tensions had lessened… When a memory surfaced, drawing a mischievous grin to his face. He remembered the story of a certain underground hero’s introduction to a fresh class of hero students, most likely embellished in his best friend’s rantings. Surely Eraserhead wouldn’t mind if he took a page from the disheveled man’s book just this once.

A slow, casual clap shattered the tense quiet of the bar – and to their credit the League was on their feet in a moment, weapons drawn and quirks primed even as they sought out the source of the intrusion. It was showtime.

“Forty-three seconds. That’s how long I’ve been standing here without any of you noticing – Compress and Kurogiri excluded, of course.” Izuku chirped in a too-cheerful voice as he stepped out of his shadowy hiding place, flashing the increasingly confused villains a practiced smile. As dim as it was, the light of the bar practically shone against the obsidian-black fabric of his tailored suit; his silhouette sharp and clean, straight down to his smartly cuffed pants and polished dress shoes. The only dash of color within the entire ensemble was his tie; emerald green, the same color as his mother’s eyes. An homage to her, of course.

He had been reluctant at first when his father had gifted him his “villain costume.” Not only did it feel a little cheap to so obviously mimic the man’s style, but suits weren’t exactly prime fighting attire. However, when the elder villain had explained its strategic tailoring (sewn to allow for a far greater range of motion than the typical three-piece suit) and displayed the durability of its quirk-enhanced fabric by assaulting the jacket with an unnecessarily flamboyant array of offensive quirks (from which it suffered very little damage), he had conceded – and even grown to love wearing it. It made him feel like his father. It made him feel powerful.

And judging from how warily several of the League members were eyeing him as he walked forwards, it was appropriately intimidating as well!

Stopping a few yards away from the group, Izuku extended his hands outwards in a peaceful gesture, his smile unwavering. “I could have disabled you all in fifteen if I had wanted to – maybe even more quickly with the element of surprise. I know you’re all tired, but now really isn’t the time to be letting your guards do- oh!”

A metallic glint and the near-imperceptible sound of a blade cutting through the air was all the warning he received before he was forced to snatch a throwing knife from the air mere centimeters from his face – a trio of reflex-enhancing quirks automatically slotting themselves into place narrowly saving him from a very embarrassing new scar. He laughed, side-stepping yet another airborne knife and twisting sideways, tossing the first aside just in time to raise his guard – blocking a kick from Twice, who had used Toga’s distraction to close the distance between them. “It’s not very nice to interrupt a villain’s monologue like that!” He chided playfully, offering the masked man a wink before activating one of his favorite quirks. In an instant the boy’s skin flared with a vibrant neon-blue light; a holographic shield flickering into existence at the point of contact between his forearm and Twice’s leg before, after a moment’s pause, the man was launched away with a pained (and confused) shout by a force equivalent to the strength he had put behind his own kick – clotheslining Spinner, who was halfway across the room with his sword raised high.

Reflect was such a useful quirk. Izuku would always have fond memories of acquiring it, too; toppling the leadership of the Humarise cult had been one of his first villain outings with his father! It was incredible what lengths a man would go to in order to make sure his son was properly equipped to defend himself.

He let the quirk deflect a couple more throwing knives before releasing it with a grin that was bordering on smug, his hands casually clasped behind his back as he danced out of the path of a gout of cobalt flames. His quirk roared through his veins as it celebrated such rapid use; his palms itching as the powerful quirks around him were displayed. Still, though, they didn’t want to cause so much of a ruckus that they revealed their location to the heroes…

As the villains regrouped, Izuku let his arms fall to his sides – palms facing outwards towards his new colleagues. That same, serene (and, according to a certain someone, infuriating) smile warmed his expression…

And then he started calling upon his quirks.

Molecular Density Manipulation. Vigor. Brute Force. Peak Condition. Elastic Tendons. Five of his most eager quirks were quick to answer his summons, stacking together in such a way that showed how they were used to being used together. Trailing behind his physical vanguard, Super Regeneration flared into being, warmth spreading throughout his body as the quirk purred with familiarity, a papercut that Izuku had gained while he had been flipping through his quirk notes earlier automatically sealing shut.

The smile on the boy’s face sharpened as power flowed through his veins. Any more than this would probably be overkill and needlessly flashy – but as the son of a supervillain, he couldn’t resist the temptation to show off a little, and he loved using his quirks! Besides…

Smoke curled from his lips as heat began to build in his chest, flames licking at the back of his throat. Moments later, both of his hands burst into flames as well, causing Dabi to swear under his breath and take a startled step back.

…It’d be a shame not to exercise the quirks that he and his father had specially curated together.

This particular cocktail of quirks was a favorite of his; Fire Breath, Heat Resistance, Flame Boost and Pyrokinesis. When combined, they could be disguised as a singular, powerful quirk that could believably pass as a mutation of his mother’s quirk and – well, the quirk of his father’s pseudo-public identity, Midoriya Hisashi. The ability to breathe fire mixing with minor telekinesis to create a quirk that enabled their child to breathe and manipulate his own flames. For a bit of panache, they added heat resistance (which was practically immunity when working in conjunction with Super Regeneration) and Flame Boost, which gave him another dollop of enhanced strength that fluctuated with the heat of his flames.

Altogether, the four quirks disguised as components formed the ‘singular’ quirk of Midoriya Izuku: Dragon’s Fire. Combined with his physical medley, he was utilizing ten different quirks at once.

He couldn’t help but feel a little cocky about that little detail. After all, his father had once admitted that he had only been able to stack half as many quirks when he was his age.

Heat emanated from Izuku’s form as he dropped into a combat stance, his suit thankfully flexible and durable enough to contain the bulk of so many strength quirks being used in tandem. The wood beneath his feet sizzled and popped, and just as he and the League prepared to launch themselves at one another-

“Cut it out.”

Shigaraki’s raspy voice cut through the tension that had festered like a knife.

The villains froze, a couple shooting disbelieving glances in their leader’s direction. He didn’t return their looks, though; his vibrant, hateful gaze locked on Izuku alone.

“Quit antagonizing my party.” The older man hissed quietly, shoving himself up from his place at the bar so that he could face the white-haired boy properly. “What are you doing here?”

Despite the irritation that lurched in his stomach at the man’s tone, Izuku merely pouted, the heat that surrounded him fizzling out as he straightened his stance – ignoring his quirks’ protest as he quashed them back down into his core. “Can’t I come and say hello, Tomura?” He asked innocently, tilting his head. “I saw the news. I thought you might want some company.”

His elder brother sneered, stopping forward until the two of them were only a couple feet apart. “Where were you?” He asked instead. Despite himself, Izuku couldn’t help but wince, guilt clenching in his chest. He answered in a tone low enough that only Tomura could hear. “Father didn’t want me there, Tomura.” He chewed on his lip, meeting the dusty villain’s gaze evenly. “I… I don’t know what his plan is, but he must have one. He wouldn't have let them take him otherwise. He would have…”

‘He would have called me for help.’

He didn’t say the words aloud, but they must have shown on his face, because the scowl that marred Shigaraki’s only deepened. Before he could say something, though, Izuku interceded with an argument that he knew would always win.

“We have to trust him. Fa- Sensei knows what’s best.” It was risky, but the shorter boy paired his words with a thin smile, lifting one hand to rest against his adoptive brother’s shoulder. Tomura tensed at the touch for a moment, his face unreadable… Before slouching with an agitated breath.

“Fine. You were benched. I understand that.” The man growled, shaking off Izuku’s hand and taking a step back – ending their private discussion. “But you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

Rolling his eyes, Izuku offered him another bright smile, spreading his arms to either side. “The doctor asked me to come help you get back on your feet!” He announced cheerfully. “I’ll be joining the League of Villains for the time being!”

There was a mixed bag of reactions from his declaration – an excited gasp from Toga and a confused squawk from Twice being the most expressive, while the rest of the League was more reserved with their surprise. Dabi’s eyes merely narrowed, his gaze calculating when Izuku’s vibrant red eyes swept around the room, his smile unchanging.

Tomura was a little less readable. His eyes had narrowed as well, two angry red crescents that failed to reflect the enthusiasm that Izuku had announced his membership with. After a few tense moments, the man merely growled in annoyance, his hand twitching in a way that Izuku knew meant he was resisting the urge to scratch at his neck.

He knew Izuku well enough that this wasn’t a request – or even an offer. He might be All For One’s public successor… But Izuku was the man’s heir.

“Fine.” He rasped, turning his back on the shorter boy and stalking back over to the bar. “You can log into our server for now, Player Two. Even contribute to our group raids and squad missions.” He slouched back onto his stool, half-turning to glare at Izuku over his shoulder. “Just don’t forget who the leader of this party is.”

The uneasy villains around them almost seemed more shocked at his calm acceptance than they were at Izuku’s declaration – their gazes tracking between the two of them as if they were trying to decipher their relationship. Izuku merely beamed back at his elder brother, his hands clasping casually behind his back. “I wouldn’t dream of forgetting. Just think of me as a special DLC character.” He chirped, doing his best to match the man’s gamer lingo. Tomura rolled his eyes, before turning resolutely back to the bar – effectively ending their conversation.

Silence fell upon the bar once again – uncertainty and awkwardness stifling the room. Izuku looked from person to person, shooting a disapproving look at the back of Tomura’s head. He supposed he’d handle introductions himself, then.

“Hello everyone!” He grinned, red eyes flashing as he stepped forward, raising a hand in greeting. “My name is Shigaraki Izuku,” he saw realization click in everyone’s eyes, relishing the dropped jaws and shocked expressions as he lowered into a formal bow, “but seeing as how you’ve known my brother for a while now, you can just call me Izuku!”

Chapter Text

It had been a bit touch and go at first, but Izuku prided himself on his expertly trained, disarming personality. After the adrenaline of their abrupt introduction began to wear down, the League villains let down their guards one by one – some merely going back to what there were doing before Izuku had entered the bar and others approaching him for a more personable introduction.

The latter group (comprised of Toga, Twice, and Spinner) were all likable enough, he supposed. Toga was a touch overly friendly, considering they had literally just met (and she’d tried to stab him in the face) a few minutes ago, and he’d admit that it would take him more than one conversation to get used to Twice’s eccentric speech pattern and mannerisms. On the other hand, Spinner actually seemed surprisingly earnest and welcoming, the mutant-quirked man’s grin far less manic than – say, Toga’s, for example.

All in all, when the natural flow of the evening saw Izuku sharing a booth with the three more extroverted villains (alongside Magne, who’d propped herself against the wall to join the conversation once they’d settled in), he couldn’t say that things were going nearly as badly as he expected them to. Compress had returned to his conversation with Kurogiri, Tomura was still brooding at the bar, and Dabi – well, he’d given Izuku a wide berth before retiring into one of the back rooms for the night, much to the boy’s inward pouting. (Out of all the members of Tomura’s League, he was undoubtedly the one who intrigued the All For One wielder the most!)

While the initial focus of the conversation had put Izuku in quite the hotseat, his training in social manipulation (his father did so enjoy wordplay, after all) enabled him to gradually shift the focus to more of a mutual get-to-know-you huddle – an endeavor that had succeeded to the point that the other villains around the table were asking things about each other nearly as much as they were addressing him! It was interesting – and the way they all seemed to know very little about each other had him passing subtle, disapproving glances at Tomura’s back when nobody was looking.

Honestly! How did his brother expect such an extremely diverse group of misfit villains to work together cohesively if he didn’t bother to encourage any comradery between them? It was no wonder the Doctor had seen fit to have Izuku step in.

“So, Izu-Kun!” a certain blonde vampire’s voice broke the boy’s train of thought – causing him to blink, cutting his gaze back to the girl that was sitting far too close to his right side for comfort. (He’d subtly scooted further away from her each time she’d shifted closer, but it seemed like she had no interest in respecting his personal space.) “If you’re really Shigaraki’s brother, does that mean that the two of you grew up together?” Her golden eyes gleamed in a way that made Izuku really wish he could move further away without falling out of the booth. “You must have some embarrassing stories about what he was like as a kid!”

Tomura’s barstool creaked as he suddenly sat up, twisting around in his chair to offer Izuku a menacing glare as the other villains leaned in – apparently *very* interested in hearing any dirt on their new leader. The white-haired boy met his older brother’s gaze with a defiant grin, reveling in the way the lanky villain grit his teeth as he propped his elbows on the table, folding his hands in front of him.

It was time to shatter his brother’s aloof, intimidating persona for good. Honestly, Tomura should thank him for helping to make him more approachable!

“As a matter of fact,” he started – blissfully ignoring a growl of warning from his brother, “I’ve got all sorts of stories that I can share about Tomura! He and I used to share a room when we were little, and he could never sleep without- “

His words were interrupted by the abrupt chime of his cellphone – causing all the villains around the table to jump at the unexpected sound. Fishing the device from his pocket, Izuku flashed the group an apologetic smile, glancing down at the caller ID. “Oops – sorry to cut this short, everyone, but I’ve gotta take this.” He apologized, slipping out from the bench – and out from Toga’s reach, much to his relief. “Kurogiri, if you wouldn’t mind gating me to a room that hasn’t been claimed yet?”

A portal opened a moment later, and Izuku raised a hand in parting as he stepped towards it, already raising his phone to his ear. “See you tomorrow, guys! Try to get some rest!” With that, he stepped through the portal – a series of well wishes (and one peppy “Sweet dreams//I hope you have nightmares!” from Twice) getting cut short as Kurogiri’s warp gate sealed shut behind him, leaving him in a small, barren bedroom. The tension bled from his shoulders as he made his way over to perch on the side of the twin-sized bed jammed into the corner of the room, finally swiping his thumb across the screen to answer the call.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Izuku!” The boy winced at the volume of his mother’s reply, pulling the phone a bit further away from his ear. The urgency in her tone was expected, given the events of the day – but he still found himself sitting a little bit straighter, his quirks thrumming beneath his skin, ready to go at a moments notice in the event that she was in danger. “Have you seen the news, Baby? The heroes – they rescued Katsuki!”

Izuku allowed himself to relax again as the topic was identified, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yeah, Mom, everyone saw the broadcasts. I wanted to call you, but I knew you were pulling a late shift at the hospital. Have you heard from Aunty about Kacchan’s condition?”

“Not yet. I’m sure she and Masaru have enough going on without me calling.” She replied. Despite her words, he could easily hear the worry in her tone. There was a pause, as if she was choosing what to say next, before: “Baby, I know you and your father are pretty… Busy, but I’m planning to check and see if the Bakugo’s are open to visitors tomorrow morning. I thought it might be nice if you were able to join me…?”

Izuku bit his lip – guilt clenching in his stomach from his mother’s hesitant tone. It was fair, though; ever since he had become more involved with assisting his father in the behind-the-scenes work of maintaining the man’s many ‘business’ connections, he’d spent far less time at home with his mother. On top of that, Hisashi’s (and, by extension, Izuku’s) paranoid nature tended to limit their exposure to the public eye in general – and neither of them were willing to risk exposing Inko to the company they kept, lest some less-than-intelligent villain get the idea to attempt and leverage her to get one up on the Demon Lord.

Saying that they were estranged would be an exaggeration, but Inko had been hesitant to let Izuku start his ‘internship’ under his father’s tutelage to begin with. The time that the three spent together had taken a big hit because of his father’s resurgence in villainous activity – and the last few times that the family had made time to spend together, well…

Izuku hated hearing his parents argue – and it was much, much worse when those arguments were about him.

“Yeah – yeah, I can be there. It’s been a while since I saw Kacchan, and I was really worried when the news hit that he’d been kidnapped.” He said honestly, already coordinating the arrangements in his mind. Travel would be easy, thanks to Kurogiri – but Tomura was definitely going to be miffed about him disappearing so soon after making his grand entrance. “Dad’s got some big conference this week, anyway, so I was already thinking of taking a few days off and coming home.”

“Oh!” His mother gasped on the other side of the phone – the delighted surprise in her tone only twisting that knife of guilt in his chest even deeper. “That’s – That’s great, Sweetie! Do you need me to pick you up from the train station tomorrow? When do you think you’ll be able to get here? I hope I’ll have time to get some groceries…”

Izuku didn’t bother to stifle his smile as his mother descended into one of her own babbling storms – the origin of the boy’s own, without a doubt. While his were typically centered around quirks, nothing could get the woman’s mind going quite like hospitality. “Mom,” he interrupted, his tone light, “I can be there mid-morning, and don’t worry about picking me up. I can get to the house on my own, and then we can go to the hospital together.”

“If you’re sure.” His mother agreed begrudgingly. God, he didn’t deserve her. “It’s pretty late, and you’ll need to get an early start to catch the morning train. I’ll let you go – just, text me in the morning when you’re leaving so that I know when to expect you?”

“I will.” He promised. “I love you, Mom. Sleep well, okay?”

“I love you too, Izuku. Be safe, I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, he ended the call, casting the room into silence. He sat there for a few moments longer, taking a deep breath before rising to his feet, shrugging off his bag, and changing into some pajamas. He was suddenly really, really tired – tired enough not to worry too much about sleeping in the vicinity of unfamiliar villains, or to be picky about his lumpy mattress. Tired enough to let the numerous amount of phone calls that he really should be making tonight, ensuring all of the various branches of his father’s empire that everything was still very much under control, wait until tomorrow.

Tired enough for his mind to wander. With no task at hand, no mask to wear or gazes to be weary of, he was finally forced to allow the reality of the night’s events to take center stage in his thoughts. Visions of a city turned to rubble filled his mind’s eye, the frantic voices of the on-scene reporters cataloguing every detail of the titanic clash of wills, quirks, and fists, capturing each painstaking moment in the shaky frame of a high-resolution camera and forcing Izuku to witness the brutality in vivid detail.

In the silence of his musty bedroom, he felt the weight of the emotions that he’d done so well to stifle settle in his chest, causing his throat to clench and his eyes to burn. His father had been a constant presence in Izuku’s life; they spent time apart from one another, sure, but almost never longer than a week. The man was his idol, his inspiration, his mentor, his shoulder to cry on. Hisashi Shigaraki was everything that a father should be, and he was the only one who truly knew every facet of who Izuku was.

And now, he was on his way to Tartarus – if he wasn’t there already, beaten, bloody, and completely outside of Izuku’s reach. As the young heir to All For One’s empire was left alone to his thoughts, he was forced to address his emotions as well; anger towards the heroes – and, more specifically, the man solely responsible for his father’s downfall. Resentment towards Tomura, who was at least partially responsible for putting his father in the position where he had to confront his mortal nemesis. Weariness of the trials ahead of him, of all the work he’d need to do in order to keep things together until the man managed to escape his temporary imprisonment. Sadness. Despair. It had hurt witnessing his father getting so brutally beaten – and it still hurt, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see the man for a while. He wouldn’t be able to share his quirk analysis with him, or shadow him on a ‘business’ trip, or laugh with him over some public failing of a hero caught on the morning news.

He wouldn’t be able to sink into one of his dad’s strong, reassuring hugs, to feel the man’s large hand ruffle his hair – something that he’d always pretended to get annoyed by, but never really minded.

In the silence of his musty bedroom, a son quietly wept for the loss of his father; and an heir silently swore to get vengeance for his Sensei.