Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku wakes up feeling strange. His fourth birthday was a week ago, meaning that they are in the middle of summer. The last few days have been hot, but he wakes up feeling chilly despite this.

In an attempt to stay warm, he curls up and hides under the blankets, but the cold continues. Wrapping himself in the blankets like a cape, he gets up and looks for his mother, who is in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

“Mom, I’m cold.” He calls her.

“Oh, dear. Are you feeling…” His Mom turns and pales when she looks at him. “Ill?” She runs to him and puts a hand on his forehead. “Dear god. You’re freezing, Izuku!”

His Mom quickly runs with Izuku to the hospital. His symptoms sound like hypothermia. His breathing is shallow, his skin cold and pale, and his heartbeat extremely slow, at only 20 bpm.

But despite this, his movements are not slow, he is not confused or drowsy, and his speech is normal. His body temperature is only 27° C (80, 6° F) which would be considered severe hypothermia, but he shows no problems other than shivering. His shallow breathing and slow heartbeat don’t seem to affect him. The doctors conclude that it must be his quirk manifesting.

Izuku’s mother appears to be worried about something upon hearing this, but she just thanks the doctors and takes Izuku home. She drops Izuku off at Aunt Mitsuki’s house a few hours later.

Despite the summer weather, Izuku is dressed as if he is going skiing. With a heavy jacket and pants, he just took off his mittens so he could write in his notebook. He is writing about a new hero who debuted a few months ago and has recently started a radio program. His quirk is so cool.

Suddenly, he hears something tapping on Kacchan’s bedroom window, and he turns around just in time to see a little bird falling. Immediately, he closes his notebook, accidentally cutting his finger on the paper, and jumps from Kacchan’s bed.

“Hey, Nerd! Where are you going?” Kacchan asks, pausing the game he’s playing.

“I need to help the bird.” Izuku replies, running outside.

Arriving outside, he soon finds the bird lying on the ground, he runs to try to help the bird, which he identifies as an oriental turtle dove, but he soon realizes that it is already dead. Kacchan arrives just as Izuku is scooping the bird into his hands. Izuku looks at him with a few tears gathering in his eyes.

“Do you think auntie would help me bury it?” He asks.

“I’m sure the hag will help.” Kacchan replies.

They go back inside and find Aunt Mitsuki in the living room. Izuku opens his mouth to call her but stops when he feels movement in his hand. When he looks, the dove is moving.

“It’s alive?” Kacchan asks.

“I’m sure it was dead.” Izuku replies. They look at each other for a few seconds. “Is this my quirk?”

…

The next day, Izuku’s mother takes him to a specialist to try to understand what his quirk is. When he explains what happened, they assume it is some kind of resurrection quirk. The doctor examines the pigeon, and his eyes instantly go wide.

“This bird looks alive but cold, and their heart is not beating.” He looks at Izuku’s Mom. “From what I have seen, I believe that your son’s quirk is a form of Necromancy. We’ll have to do a few tests to understand exactly how it works.”

Izuku’s Mom nods, and the doctor leaves, coming back a few minutes later with another doctor, this one wearing sunglasses.

“Good Morning. My name is Doctor Yogi Kenji. But I am usually called Doctor Quirk.” The new doctor says. “My quirk works with eye contact. By looking into a person’s eyes for a few seconds, I can see details about their quirk. Type, functionalities, side effects, and drawbacks, among other things. It also shows me what quirks combined to create the new one.” He smiles at Izuku. “Having said that, can I examine your son’s quirk?”

“Of course, Doctor.” Izuku’s Mom replies.

“Then, excuse me.” The doctor takes off his sunglasses, revealing his eyes which are shaped like camera lenses. He gently takes Izuku’s hand and looks at him. “Just look into my eyes. It’s no problem if you blink, but don’t turn your head.”

“Okay.” Izuku replies.

The doctor looks at him for about thirty seconds.

“Oh, my. That’s indeed an interesting quirk.” He turns to Izuku’s Mom. “As the other doctor suspected, your son’s quirk is a blood-based form of Necromancy. He can reanimate corpses that come in contact with his blood. The amount of blood needed to reanimate a body depends primarily on the subject’s size. His quirk caused some mutations in his body to protect him. Izuku’s skin is fragile, and he bleeds easily. But in compensation, he replenishes lost blood and heals faster. His wounds heal in half the time of a normal person. The decrease in body temperature and heart rate is his defense mechanism. Because of his fragility, an injury could easily make him bleed to death, but because of his lower body temperature and heart rate, this won’t be a problem.” He taps his chin a few times, then adds. “The reason he’s feeling so cold is because his body is still not used to the new quirk, but soon he will get used to it, and cold will not affect him at all.”

Izuku’s Mom narrows her eyes at the explanation.

“What quirks formed his quirk?” She asks.

The doctor raises an eyebrow.

“His quirk is primarily a mutation of a quirk called Manipulation by Blood. He also has traces of a quirk called Attraction of Small Objects.” He explains, and Izuku’s Mom immediately pales. “Anyway, I have everything I need. You can go to the counter in the lobby to register his quirk.”

“Thank you, doctor.” She says with her voice a bit strained, then leaves.

Immediately she returns with Izuku to the car.

“Mom, don’t we need to register my quirk?” Izuku asks, and she looks at him with a furious expression.

“What quirk?” She asks, snatching the dove from his hands. “You have no quirk. The doctor said you’re quirkless.” Then she throws the pigeon to the floor and stomps hard on its head. Izuku can only stare in shock as she opens the door and pushes him into the car. “Not a word about what happened here. Understood? Your father can’t know.”

By now, Izuku is crying, but she ignores him, and when they get home, she sends him to his room. His Mom tells his dad that the doctor said Izuku is quirkless, and she keeps the lie for about a week.

Unfortunately for her, registering quirks is required by law. So a week after the visit to the specialist, when she has not yet registered Izuku’s quirk, they receive a call informing them that they need to register it. The one who answers the call is Hisashi, and with that, the lie ends.

That night, Izuku hears his parents screaming. He discovers that Hisashi is not his biological father. His Mom had an affair with a co-worker, and Izuku’s quirk is a mutation of his quirk.

Izuku cries himself to sleep with his parents’ angry shouts as background noise. The next day, they register Izuku’s quirk under the name Necromancy.

For a whole week, Izuku listens to his parents fighting every night, but in the end, they stay together. Izuku wishes they hadn’t. His Mom starts ignoring him after that. But Hisashi makes it clear that he hates Izuku. Any excuse he can use to beat up Izuku he uses.

At school, things are not much better. Necromancy is not a quirk well-regarded by society. Immediately after having his quirk revealed, his classmates start calling him a villain. The silver lining is that they know that Izuku’s quirk is blood-based and that his skin is fragile. So out of fear of him, they never physically attack him.

Kacchan does not join in the bullying, but he begins to distance himself from Izuku, and after a month, the two hardly speak to each other anymore. Kacchan just ignores Izuku. Things are terrible at school, but still, it’s a paradise compared to home. For two years, Hisashi becomes more and more aggressive, while Inko becomes more and more negligent.

The limit comes one day while Izuku is hiding in his room. Hisashi enters and grabs him by the arm, dragging him out. Izuku narrowly manages to get his shoes from the doorway.

Hisashi shoves Izuku into the car and starts driving down a road that Izuku doesn’t know. Afraid of what he is about to do, Izuku begins to cry, but Hisashi ignores him. They stop in front of a forest, and Hisashi takes a small backpack and goes back to drag Izuku by the arm.

They gear up deep in the forest, and after about twenty minutes of random walking, Hisashi lets go of Izuku’s arm and drops the backpack in front of him.

“I don’t care what you do now. Just never appear in front of me again.” Hisashi says and leaves.

Izuku stands there crying for several minutes without knowing what to do. It was winter, and he was only wearing his pajamas, but as the doctor said, the cold stopped affecting him a few weeks after his quirk manifested. When his tears are dry, Izuku opens the backpack Hisashi left with him. Inside is a small folded blanket, a few water bottles, and some food. Probably Hisashi’s attempt to ease his conscience.

Without much to do, Izuku chooses a random direction and starts walking. He feels as if he has been walking for hours. His feet begin to hurt, and he decides to stop and rest. At that moment, he hears a howl coming from deeper in the forest and starts to run in panic. Soon he trips over something and falls face down on the ground. A bit of dirt gets into his mouth.

Izuku stands up, spitting the dirt out of his mouth, and looks at what he has stumbled upon. His eyes widen as he sees a burnt and nearly crumbling skull. Before thinking much, he hears another howl, this time much closer. He looks again at the skull and runs to it, kneeling in front of it.

Izuku looks at his wrist, and after only a moment’s hesitation, he bites down hard, easily tearing the fragile skin. He places his wrist over his skull and lets the blood gush out. As soon as the blood touches the skull, it begins to regenerate. Nearby bones are drawn together to form a complete skeleton except for the missing jawbone in the skull.

A growl makes Izuku turn around, and he sees a large lone wolf approaching him with drool dripping from its snout. Izuku starts running, despite knowing he can’t outrun a wolf, but the panic is speaking louder. The wolf gives chase.

The wolf soon catches up with Izuku and jumps in front of him. Izuku almost doesn’t stop before crashing into them. He takes a few steps back but trips over his own feet and falls to the ground. The wolf approaches him, growling, and then jumps up to attack. Izuku covers his face with his hands, waiting for the pain. But instead, a flash of light appears, followed by a whine. Then he hears the wolf running away.

“Are you okay, kid?” Izuku removes his arm from his face, and in front of him, he sees a skeleton. A real skeleton. Just a pile of bones that is somehow moving and talking despite not having a jawbone. In their eye sockets, they have turquoise lights. And in their hands’ blue flames slowly fade. Their voice sounds male.

“Who are you?” Izuku asks.

“I am…” The skeleton stops, then turns around, with their hands on their waist, then puts one hand on their upper jaw, and then starts scratching their skull. “Who am I?”

“You don’t remember? Nothing at all?” Izuku asks as he gets up from the ground.

“Hmm… I’m male?” The skeleton says, looking more like a question. “I think I’m about 13 years old. My quirk is Cremation… And that’s it.”

“I guess it’s because you were dead for a long time…” Izuku starts muttering. “He was just bones until I revived him. Actually, just being able to move is strange enough. There is nothing holding him together. He should just disassemble. And how does he speak if he has no vocal cords? Or hear if he has no tympani? Or see without eyes? Well, I think those lights are eyes, but still. And how -”

“KID!” A snap of bony fingers cuts the mutter storm. “Quirks are fucking weird. Er… Don’t repeat this word, okay? Anyway, from what I gathered, you revived me.” He looks at his body. “Kinda…”

Izuku immediately starts waving his hands and apologizing.

“I’m sorry, I was alone for so long in this forest, then I heard the howling, and I saw your bones.” Izuku explains. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask your permission.”

“Kid. I was dead.” The skeleton replies. “Unless you have an Ouija board with you, how were you supposed to ask for permission?” Izuku shrugs, not quite sure of how to reply to that.

“I can send you back? If you want to.”

“You can?” The skeleton asks. Izuku thinks for a while, then shrugs.

“I don’t know. It’s the first time I use my quirk since I was 4. People don’t like Necromancy.” He explains.

“Well, I’m not in a hurry to die a second time anyway.” The skeleton… smiles? How can Izuku tell that he’s smiling? “So, want to stick together for now?”

“Okay, Mr. Skeleton.” Izuku smiles.

“Please, don’t call me that.” The skeleton replies.

“Then what do you want to be called?” Izuku asks, tilting his head.

The skeleton thinks for a few seconds, then smirks at Izuku. Again, it’s weird that Izuku can tell he’s smirking.

“Call me, Dabi.”

Chapter Text

Homeless life is both simpler and more complicated than Izuku could have imagined. On the very first night, they learned that Dabi doesn’t need sleep and doesn’t feel hunger or thirst. It may seem obvious, after all, he has no stomach - or any other organs, or muscles, or skin, or... you get the idea - but he also has no vocal cords and can speak. As Dabi said, quirks are fucking weird.

That’s another thing about Dabi. He swears like a sailor. And this is with him trying to censor himself in front of Izuku. Not that Izuku cares about swearing. Hell, Kacchan and Aunt Mitsuki swear all the time. Izuku may only be six years old, but he knows every swear word imaginable.

But he’s getting off the subject. Life on the streets. Since Dabi doesn’t need to sleep, he stands guard while Izuku sleeps. The next day, they found a way back to the city. And also, their first problem, a skeleton, attracts a lot of attention. Even with the countless mutation quirks that exist, a skeleton is something that is not commonly seen.

The blanket that Hisashi put in Izuku’s backpack ends up serving as a makeshift cloak. And they end up resorting to dumpster diving in search of food. Dabi suggests robbing a convenience store, but Izuku quickly shoots the idea down. He’s not a villain and doesn’t intend to act like one.

To avoid attracting attention, they usually go out at night. Going out at night means fewer people to bump into. But it also means a greater chance of encountering crime. Or, in this case, a crime scene.

Honestly, Izuku thought he would feel worse seeing a dead body for the first time. Well, second, if you count Dabi, but he was only a skull. This man with shoulder-length white hair, lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, with an obvious stab wound in his abdomen, doesn’t seem to have been dead for more than a few hours. Still, Izuku doesn’t feel nervous looking at him. Could this be another effect of his quirk?

“It has been a few hours since he died.” Dabi says, grabbing the corpse’s arm and trying to move it. “See? This is called Rigor Mortis, and it usually happens 4 to 8 hours after death.”

“And how do you know that?” Izuku asks.

“I have no idea.” Dabi shrugs. “I was probably a fan of criminal TV series.” Then he looks back at the body. “Anyway, will you do your thing?”

“What?” Izuku looks at him, surprised. “You want me to reanimate him?”

“Why not?” Dabi asks. “This place isn’t exactly hidden, so if he has been there for so long, there’s probably no one searching for him. And having a zombie who actually looks human, and adult, could really help us.”

“I guess…” Izuku looks back at the body. “But still. Isn’t that... Unethical?”

“It’s your quirk, kid. There’s nothing wrong with using it.” Dabi replies. “After he wakes up, you can ask him if he wants to stay alive. But unless it was suicide, I doubt that anyone would want to die.”

“Okay, I guess.” Izuku is still slightly unsure, but he kneels in front of the body.

Izuku turns the body so that it’s lying on its back. He then bites his wrist and lets the blood fall on the corpse. The result is almost instantaneous, the pool of blood begins to flow back into the body, and then the wound closes. When the process is over, the only evidence that this man had been stabbed is the tear in his shirt.

Izuku applies pressure to stop the bleeding, and his regeneration takes care of the rest. A scab soon forms, which stops the bleeding.

A few seconds later, the man begins to move. He opens his hazel eyes and quickly takes in everything around him. As if remembering something, he throws himself into a sitting position and brings his hand to his abdomen, where his wound was.

“Am I alive?” He asks.

“Hello, mister.” Izuku greets. “I’m Midoriya Izuku, and I brought you back.”

“Brought me back?” The man asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he did the same to me.” Dabi says, waving a bony hand. “You kicked the bucket.”

The man frowns, rubbing his abdomen.

“I think it was mugging?” He says, tilting his head. “The guy had a knife, I’m sure.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Izuku asks. “Dabi didn’t even remember his name. I think it was because he was dead for a long while. I only found his bones.”

“Ah, so you really are a skeleton?” The man asks. “I really thought you were the scrawniest person I have ever seen.”

“You don’t seem to have a six-pack under that shirt either.” Dabi replies. “Asshole.”

The man chuckles and then looks back to Izuku.

“Let me think…” He stops for a few seconds. “Name? I’m drawing a blank. Age? I think I’m 24 years old. I’m 90% sure I lived alone. My quirk is called Mending. It’s a healing quirk that draws from my own stamina to heal wounds. It’s very inefficient so even healing small wounds makes me exhausted.”

“Hmm. The kid reanimated a few days ago, and I didn’t feel tired even once since then.” Dabi says. “I don’t need to eat, drink, or sleep. I’m almost sure I have infinite stamina.”

“Worth a try.” The man shrugs. “Is any of you wounded?”

Izuku shows him his wrist.

“My quirk is blood-based.” He explains. “I need my blood to touch a body to reanimate it.” He thinks for a bit as the man holds his arm and looks at the wound. “I also have a few scars on my back. My father really hated me.”

The man nods and gently puts his hand above the wound. A green glow comes out of his hand, and Izuku has a warm feeling in his body. When the man removes his hand, the wound is completely gone, including the scars beginning to form.

“Huh. You’re right.” The man turns to Dabi. “I don’t feel any tired.”

“Wow. Mister, your quirk is amazing.” Izuku says, and he feels his shirt being lifted.

“Hey, he healed your scars too.” Dabi says, looking at his back.

“Interesting. I wonder what are my new limits.” The man says. “I wonder if I could give you back your body.”

“Maybe?” Dabi shrugs. “But I like being a skeleton. It freaks people out. I’d really like to find some clothes though.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Izuku asks.

“Not really.” He pats his pockets. “Hmm, no cellphone, no wallet either. The guy who mugged me probably took both.” He pats his coat pocket. “Oh, keys!” He looks at Izuku. “I think I was close to home. Are you up for trying to go house by house until we find mine?”

“Not really, but do we have a choice?” Izuku asks.

“Well, you could pretend to be someone who knows me and knock on a house asking for me.” The man replies.

“At, what? Three in the morning?” Dabi shoots back. “The only he’ll get is a door to the face.”

“Let’s go with the first plan for now.” Izuku suggests. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky?”

Spoiler, they don’t get lucky.

For the next few hours, they try house by house on this street and the nearby streets. None opens. As dawn breaks, the first people start to leave for work. They decide to go to plan b.

The man and Dabi hide while Izuku approaches a woman leaving her house.

“Excuse me, miss.” Izuku calls her, putting on his best innocent face. The effect is reduced by the dirt accumulated on his skin, as well as her pale appearance, but the woman doesn’t question it. “I’m looking for my uncle’s house. He’s tall, long white hair, hazel eyes, pale skin.”

The woman thinks for a few seconds.

“I see him every once in a while.” She points to the next street. “He always comes from there, but I’m not sure of where he lives.”

“Thank you, miss.” Izuku replies, bowing his head.

“You’re welcome.” She replies, turning away to leave. “Whoever he is, I hope he treats you better than whoever was your guardian before.” She mutters as she leaves.

Izuku goes back to Dabi and the man.

“She pointed the next street, but she doesn’t know the house.” Izuku explains.

“Well, let’s go.” The man says.

The next street has a lot of apartments. Izuku tries one of them and is met by a tall man with tan skin, brown hair, and brown eyes. He appears to be middle-aged.

“Excuse me, mister. Do you know where my uncle lives?” Izuku asks. “He’s tall, long white hair, hazel eyes, pale skin.”

The man raises an eyebrow.

“He never mentioned family before.” Then he shrugs. “Not that I asked, I don’t really care as long as he pays his rent on time. I’m his landlord.” He explains. “He lives on the third floor. Apartment 564. Let him know that his rent is due in a week.”

“Thank you, Mister.” Izuku replies and starts going to the stairs.

The man observes him for a few more seconds, then go back inside and closes the door. As soon as Izuku is sure he won’t come back, he waves for Dabi and the man.

“Is it here?” Dabi asks.

“He said it’s on the third floor.” Izuku replies. “Apartment 564.”

“Cool, let’s go.” The man replies. “Hopefully, I have something with my name there.”

“He also said that your rent is due in one week.” Izuku adds.

“Hopefully I’m not hurting for cash.” The man mumbles.

Arriving at the apartment in question, he tries the key. The three of them sigh in relief when the door opens.

“All right, come on in. Make yourself at home, I guess.” The man says, entering and taking off his shoes. Izuku does the same, but Dabi isn’t wearing any shoes, so he just enters.

The man explores his own house while Izuku stands awkwardly at the entrance. Dabi shamelessly lies down on his sofa.

“Damn it.” The man curses as he enters back. “How is it possible that I don’t have a single electric bill with my name on it?”

“Maybe everything goes to the landlord and he just repasses it later?” Dabi suggests. “No use on thinking too much on it. I mean, I don’t remember my name either.”

“Really? So your parents didn’t name you ‘Cremation?’” The man asks with a smirk.

“What kind of parents would name their child that?” Dabi asks.

“Nowadays? Many.” The man replies with a shrug. “Anyway.” He turns to Izuku. “While Dabi and I don’t need to eat or sleep, I assume you do.” On cue, Izuku’s stomach grumbles, and he looks away in embarrassment. The man points to a door on the left. “I’ll fix something for you. Meanwhile, you can take a bath.”

“Thank you.” Izuku bows. “It’s been at least a week since I last took a bath.”

“It’s no problem.” The man waves him off. “I’ll have some clothes ready for you, they’ll be a bit too large, but it’s better than wearing your dirty clothes.”

Izuku nods and enters the bathroom. 

The bathroom is relatively cramped, but Izuku doesn’t mind. He cleans himself while the tub fills up. He needs to repeat the process about three times to get all the grime off that he has accumulated after days on the streets.

He hesitates a bit before using the shampoo, but he needs to wash his hair. He decides that he will find a way to repay the man later. He frowns as he sees how much dirt falls from his curls.

He hears a knock at the door.

“Hey, kid.” Dabi calls. “I’m leaving a few towels and clothes in front of the door. The man said you can use anything you need.” Then he leaves, muttering. “We need something better to call him than ‘The Man’.”

Izuku stays in the bathroom for a few more minutes, carefully cleaning every part he can reach. When he’s finally satisfied, he rinses himself off and opens the door. He finds a small pile of neatly folded clothes and towels in front of the door.

Before getting dressed, he looks at himself in the mirror. His dull eyes and pale face greet him as usual, a sight he has grown accustomed to after a few months. His bizarre appearance earned Izuku the nickname “Corpse” at school, but he has never cared much for it. He knows he looks like a walking corpse.

Gently running his hand over his chest and back, he notes that, as Dabi said, the scars from Hisashi’s abuse are gone. As if they never existed. Izuku is grateful for that. He hated those scars. He doesn’t need any more reminders of how much his parents hated him. Shaking his head, he turns to the pile of clothes.

As expected, the clothes are too big for Izuku. Shorts that ends up being pants on him, a shirt that looks like a dress and leaves one of his shoulders exposed. After clearing everything as neatly as possible, he leaves the bathroom and heads to the kitchen, where he finds a plate of toast on the table.

“So, I just found out that I can’t cook.” The man says, pointing to the sink where there’s a pan with something so burnt that it’s impossible to say what it was supposed to be. “Fortunately, you can’t go wrong when making toast.”

“It’s more than enough.” Izuku replies, sitting down at the table. “Thank you, mister.”

“C’mon kid, drop the mister.” The man replies. “You saved my life. Or gave it back to me.”

“You’re still dead.” Izuku replies. “Your heart doesn’t beat anymore, and you don’t need to breathe.”

“But I’m still here.” The man replies. “I might not remember who I was before, but it doesn’t really matter. I mean, look around.” He gestures to the apartment. “I can say that I was a 24 years old man with no family, living alone in an apartment in one of the worst parts of Mustafu. I doubt there’s too much I’d rather remember.” He smiles at Izuku. “I’m grateful for the second chance you gave me, Midoriya.”

“Same here, shorty.” Dabi replies.

“You’re not that taller than him.” The man teases. “I bet he’ll get taller than you in no time.”

“Maybe, but I’ll tease him while I still can.” Dabi shrugs.

Izuku smiles as he eats. It’s just toast, but it tastes so good. Maybe it’s just the hunger, but he can’t remember anything he ate in the last two years to taste that good.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you when he gets taller than you and starts teasing you back.” The man teases.

As they bicker, Izuku let out a little giggle behind the toast. It must be the company. It’s what he decides. When was the last time he ate with someone? In the last two years at home, when Inko remembered to feed him, he always ate alone in his room. But here, with the two bickering happily, Izuku almost feels like he has a family again.

Izuku feels something dripping on his hand and looks, finding a drop on it. He looks up, expecting to see a drip, but there is nothing. Another drop drips on his arm, and he suddenly realizes that Dabi and the man had stopped talking. Izuku turns to them, and they are looking at him with surprised expressions.

“What?” Izuku asks, surprising himself with his shaky voice. He brings a hand to his face and feels it wet. “Oh. I’m crying.” He says eloquently. “Why am I crying?” He asks no one in particular. “I’m so happy right now. So why am I crying?”

“People can cry from happiness too.” Dabi says.

Izuku remembers a time when he used to cry from happiness all the time. But it feels like such a long time ago.

He finishes eating in silence, with tears still falling, but no one comments on them. The man simply puts a cup of water in front of him, and Izuku gives him a watery smile before drinking.

The tears dry up after a few seconds, and Izuku begins to feel sleepy. Looking at the wall, he sees a clock hanging down that reads about 7:30 AM. He has been up all night, and while Dabi doesn’t need sleep, he does. He tries to stifle a yawn while rubbing his eyes.

“C’mon, you can sleep in my bed.” The man says, picking Izuku up.

He takes Izuku to a simple plain room with a desk and a bed in the corner and tucks Izuku in the bed, putting a blanket on him.

“You’re quite good with kids.” Dabi comments. “Are you sure you don’t have family?”

“I don’t really remember.” The man replies. “But I feel that I don’t. Makes sense?”

“It does.” Dabi says. “I mean, I feel that I had family, but at the same time, I feel that I don’t want to go back to them.” He pauses for a moment. Izuku feels his eyes getting heavier as the two starts leaving. “You know, we need something to call you. I don’t know if’ll ever find out and reclaim your old name, but just calling ‘the Man’ is confusing.”

“Fair enough.” The man says. “Hmm. I know.” He snaps his fingers. The last thing Izuku hears before falling asleep is the man saying with a smirk in his voice. “Call me Frank. Frank N. Stein.”

Then he drifts into a dreamless sleep, free of nightmares for the first time in months.

Chapter Text

Dabi remembers nothing of his former life. His first clear memory is waking up in a forest and hearing a howl. When he got up, he saw a child being attacked by a wolf, and before he could think clearly, he attacked the wolf with his flames, which for some reason he knew he possessed.

One look at the small boy, pale, trembling with fear, with dull green eyes, was enough. Something about him made Dabi feel protective, and that was before he even found out that the boy was basically the one who gave him back his life. That night, Dabi made a promise that he would protect this boy with his life. Or death. Being a zombie is confusing.

After seeing the boy cry over something as simple and basic as a plate of toast, this commitment only grew. Protecting Izuku isn’t enough, Dabi will make sure he is happy, no matter what he has to do. For some reason, Dabi already thinks of him as a younger brother.

He watches for a few minutes while Izuku sleeps. He’s so quiet, his breathing almost non-existent, and his pale skin would make anyone who entered the room at that moment think he's dead.

The man, Frank, gesture for Dabi to follow him, and he scutters silently out of the bedroom. The upside of being a skeleton is that he's so light that walking without making noise is laughably easy. Dabi carefully closes the door, which fortunately doesn't creak.

He follows Frank into the kitchen and watches as the new zombie starts making tea.

“Can you even drink?” Dabi asks.

“Don’t know, but I can try.” Frank shrugs. “My sense of touch, sight, hearing, and smell work. Why not taste?”

“Fair enough.” Dabi replies. “So, what are we doing now?”

“I’m already attached.” Frank says. “That kid is adorable, how can anyone even think of being cruel to him?”

“He didn’t tell me much, but from what I gathered. Abusive father, negligent Mother.” Dabi explains. “Looks like the father had enough. Brought him to a forest, dropped the kid, and left. He found my bones there.” He clenchs his fists. “Had I woken up just a few seconds later, he would have been mauled by a wolf.”

“Damn bastards.” Frank growls. “You two can stay for as long as you want. I’m already invested.”

“The group will probably grow.” Dabi warns. “I’m sure he’ll find more of us. As morbid as it sounds, I think the kid has a knack for finding corpses.” He smirks. “I mean, he found me and you in less than a week.”

“If this place gets too crowded, I can see about finding a new one.” Frank shrugs. “Let the kid create his new family.” Dabi chuckles.

“So, what do we do now?” He asks. “The kid will probably sleep for a few hours. And I can’t really leave like this. I draw too much attention. Being basically naked doesn’t help.”

“For now.” He fishes a credit card from his pocket. “I’ll see about getting you two a few clothes.”

“Do you even know the password.” Dabi asks.

“I have a hunch.” Frank shrugs. “I might not remember, but I can see my personality didn’t change. So I can guess what I’d choose as a password.”

“Fair enough.” Dabi replies. “We can see what else we can do later. Good thing neither me nor you really needs to eat.”

“It’ll help save money.” Frank agrees, as he finishes his cup of tea. He tastes it. “Yup, palate still works. On another note. My inability to cook also translates into brewing tea.” He dumps all the tea in the sink. “This is the worst tea I've ever had.”

“This is technically the first tea you ever had.” Dabi replies.

“My point still stands.” Frank shrugs. “Anyway, I’m going now. You can take a bath too. I think the TV works, and help yourself to any clothes that you think it might fit you.” Then he gets up, and leaves the apartment.

Dabi gets up, and after thinking for a few minutes, he decides to take a bath. He doesn't sweat, but his bones are covered in dirt and dust. He soon learns that washing is extremely difficult, especially when it comes to cleaning between his joints. On another note, he also learns that he has detachable limbs.

After the - frankly much longer than intended - bath, he silently enters Frank’s room, being careful not to wake up Izuku, and takes a few clothes. He doesn’t really look at what he picks, he just wants something to wear. He ends up taking a pair of jogging pants, and a simple sports t-shirt. Like with Izuku, they are too big, but they will do the trick for now.

He stops to look in the mirror for a moment. As expected, he's a skeleton, so there is not much to see. Frank offered to try to bring his body back, but Dabi refused. While what he said about liking to freak people out is true, this is not the only reason. For some reason, the thought of having his old face back fills him with anxiety.

It’s unlikely that Dabi will ever recover his memories, so he will probably never know why. But it's okay, he honestly likes his current look.

A few hours later, Frank returns. Izuku is still sleeping, the poor boy must have been exhausted, and he's only 6 years old. They let him rest, while Frank shows Dabi the clothes he bought. Apparently he was right about his credit card password. 4242.

For Dabi, he brought simple shorts, a white long sleeved shirt with a black stripe in the arms, and a hooded jacket. He said it's just for him to have something to wear, and that afterwards they can go to the stores so he and Izuku can decide what they want to wear.

About two hours later, Izuku finally leaves the room, rubbing his eyes and yawning. An honestly lovely scene. Frank hands him the clothes, and a few minutes later he comes back wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, and a black hoodie. This will contrast horribly with the pair of red tennis shoes the boy is wearing, but who is Dabi? Fashion police?

Izuku seems happy with his new clothes, and that’s all that matters to Dabi.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

It is a few months later that they meet their next addition to the group. While living with Frank, Izuku and Dabi often search dumpsites for materials that they can recycle and earn some money. Their main source of income is Frank, who has started working as a healer in an underground clinic, but they do their best to pull their own weight.

It’s on one of these visits to the garbage dump that Izuku begins to smell an awful odor, different from the usual garbage smell. Deciding to check it out, he find, for a change, a corpse buried in the garbage. From the looks of it, this body had been there for a few days. The body is already decomposing, and he can see maggots moving around inside of it.

“Dabi?” Izuku calls. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to just reanimate this one.” Dabi gets closer and frowns looking at the body.

“You’re probably right.” Dabi replies. “I know you can restore the body, but there’s no way to know if the maggots won’t be stuck inside him. Gross.”

“But how do we carry him back?” Izuku asks.

“Hmm. wait here for now.” Dabi says. and starts running.

Izuku shrugs and waits. Dabi returns about an hour later with a large blanket, a suitcase, and a can of aerosol.

“Your plan?” Izuku asks raising an eyebrow.

“This should neutralize the smell for a while.” Dabi explains. “We can stuff the body in the suitcase and take it home.”

“We should wait until gets dark.” Izuku says. “If someone stops us and notices we carrying a body…”

“Yeah, it’ll be an awkward explanation.” Dabi nods.

The two wait until dark, then stow the body in the blanket and then in the suitcase, and take the body back to the apartment. Fortunately, no one stops them on the way.

“Hey, found something today?” Frank asks as they enter. “You usually get back a lot earlier.”

“Yeah, you could say we found.” Dabi says. “The next one.”

“You brought a dead body here?” Frank asks. “Why not just reviving him like with me?”

“This one was dead for a few days.” Izuku replies. “And in the garbage dump. I don’t know if just reanimating him will remove the maggots.”

“I see.” Frank nods. “Bring him in. I’ll prepare a place for us to work.”

They bring the man to the bathroom and puts it in the bathtub. A few minutes later, Frank enters with some surgical instruments.

“Are you a surgeon?” Dabi asks.

“Apparently I’m skilled enough to perform emergency surgeries.” Frank shrugs. “My quirk helps too.”

“Well, what do you know?” Dabi says, then looks back at the body. “So, how do we do this?”

“We need to kill them first.” Frank replies. “Izuku, fill the tub.”

Izuku nods and starts filling the tub. Just by that, a few of them starts falling from the body.

“Great, now, Dabi?” Dabi hums in aknowledgement. “I need you to boil the water as much as you can. Doesn’t matter if it evaporates.”

“Alright, fall back, please.” He puts his hands on the water which instantly starts boiling. He holds it until the water evaporates, then they fill it up again and repeat a few times.

“Alright, I think it’s enough.” Frank says. “Now, leave the rest for me.” He says opening his bag and taking out a scalpel. “This might take a while, but I’ll call you when I finish.”

Then he lies the body on the floor and starts working on it.

Dabi takes Izuku out, and prepares something for him to eat. They promptly try to block the recent memories. About three hours later, Frank calls them back.

“It’s ready.” He says.

Izuku enters the bathroom, and finds the corpse lying there. For the first time, he looks at it. There isn't much left to identify him, but he looks male, probably in his thirties. From what was left of the face, Izuku can identify short black hair, and a few scars.

Taking a knife from the kitchen, he slashes his arm, and lets the blood fall on the body. Like it happened with Frank, the body starts repairing itself. First the decomposition reverses itself, revealing a little more of his features. Izuku notices several wounds in the form of holes in his chest, he was probably shot to death. These then disappear. Finally, the dozens of scars spread over his body also disappear. When it’s over, he gives his hand to Frank who quickly heals the slash.

“Alright, now we wait for him to wake up.” Frank says. “Can you bring him to the living room? I’ll start cleaning this.”

“I can help.” Izuku offers.

“Leave it to me, kiddo.” Frank replies, ruffling his curls. “It’ll be better if you’re with him when he wakes up.”

Izuku nods, and helps Dabi carry the man to the sofa. As soon as they lay the man there, he jumps up, opening his gray eyes in alarm.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Izuku tries.

“Where am I?” The man asks. “And who are you?”

“You’re in our home.” Izuku replies. “We found you in a garbage dump. My name is Midoriya Izuku, and my quirk is necromancy.”

“Necromancy?” The man asks, then taps his chest. “I feel that I should have scars. Is this your doing?” He asks hesitantly. “Did I… Die?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.”  Izuku replies. The man finally calms down a bit, and sit back at the sofa. “Do you remember anything about yourself?”

“Let me think…” He thinks for a while. “I’m 34… My quirk is Weapons Mastery. I can use any weapon expertly, even if I’m holding it for the first time. I was… I think I fought people?”

“You’re not a hero I know.” Izuku says. “And there was no missing heroes announced recently. So I think you were a vigilante.”

“It’s possible.” The man replies looking at himself. “My clothes are ruined, but I can see some things that were probably part of my gear. I can’t say I remember anything else.”

“So, you remember a little more than Dabi, but less than Frank.” Izuku mutters. “So I might be right. The time between death and reanimation is important to how much you’ll remember.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay with us.” Dabi says. “You just need a name.”

“A name, huh?” He thinks for a while. “How about, Ronin?”

“Good for me. I’m Dabi.” Dabi introduces himself. “The kid is-”

“Midoriya Izuku.” Izuku says. “Nice to meet you, Ronin-San.”

“Drop the honorifics kid. Just Ronin is enough.” Ronin replies.

“Well, I’m Frank.” Frank says, as he enters. “Frank N. Stein. And now that you’re back to the living world… Undead I guess. You can take a bath. I’ll prepare some clothes for you.”

“Yeah, that’ s probably a good idea.” Ronin replies. “Especially if I was in garbage dump.”

Ronin fits into their dynamics effortlessly. He’s the only one there who has any cooking skills. His food tastes terrible, but at least it’s edible, unlike whatever Frank and Dabi try to make.

After a few weeks with them, Izuku asks Ronin to start training him. He wants to learn how to defend himself. Ronin eventually accepts, and they start training in the forest where Izuku was dropped by his father. First, he starts learning how to use a staff.

Izuku soon catches himself looking up to Ronin. While he looks up to Dabi and Frank, seeing them as older brothers, Ronin to him is like a father figure. He’s kind despite being stern, always explains their training to Izuku, and doesn't get angry when he makes mistakes. He reminds Izuku of how Hisahi was before everything went downhill. He just hopes it doesn’t turn the same with him too.

A few weeks later, while he was returning home from yet another training session, Izuku literally stumbles upon his next friend. 

When he looks back and sees another skeleton, he begins to wonder what is wrong with this forest. This skeleton is half-buried, looking as if someone has buried it in a hurry, and the wind has dug it up in time. Sweeping some of the earth with his hands, he soon realizes that this skeleton is not human. From the looks of it, it can't be a wolf either, it's too small.

From the skull, Izuku assumes it’s a cat.

“Should I?” Izuku hesitates. He didn’t try reviving an animal since that first dove.

“I say, go for it, kid.” Ronin replies smiling at him. “The landlord doesn’t care about animals anyway. And it’s not like anyone would mind.”

Izuku nods, and slashes his hand with a knife he been carrying for this kind of situation.

Like with Dabi, the bones gather around, and Izuku was about to move his hand away, when he notices something. Organs start to regrow on the cat’s skeleton, followed by muscle, then skin, and finally dark purple fur. It takes a few minutes, but the cat is back to a perfect state.

“Wait. Could I have done the same with Dabi?” Izuku asks no one in particular. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t finish the process with Dabi, I had to run from the wolf.”

A hiss brings him back from his thoughts. He looks down, and sees the cat hissing at him.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” Izuku says, putting his hand away from the cat. “I’m Izuku. Midoriya Izuku.”

“Are you talking to a cat like they can understand you?” Ronin asks, and the cat starts scratching at the ground.

“Yeah. Cats are smarter than you think.” Izuku replies.

“I mean, sure. But you’re talking to them like they can understand every word.” Ronin replies.

“Meow!” They look down, and under the cat’s paw is written, ‘I can understand you.’

“Okay, the cat can write.” Ronin says. “Sure, why not? A highly intelligent zombie-cat.”

“You’re a zombie too, you know.” Izuku replies, and opens his arms. “Would you like to come with us?” The cat approaches cautiously. “I know it’s scary, but I promise I won’t hurt you. I brought you back.”

“This boy cried the other day because I killed a spider. He doesn't have a single mean bone in his whole body.” Ronin says.

“The poor spider was just living her life.” Izuku says. “Now who’ll feed the baby spiders?”

“Frankly kid.” Ronin shakes his head fondly.

Finally deciding that they aren’t a threat, the cat jumps on Izuku’s arms. Izuku gets up and starts walking home with Ronin.

“I’m sorry, but I’m don’t have much warmt for you.” Izuku says. “It’s part of my quirk, my skin is cold. Do you have a quirk too, right?” The cat narrows their eyes at him, but nods slowly. “Is that why you were hurt before? Do you remember anything?”

The cat first nods, then shakes their head.

“Their bones were there for a good while. It’s hard to say for how long they were dead.” Ronin says. “When animals with quirks were rarer, it was normal for them to be either killed or experimented on. Things only began to change after Nedzu got the same rights as humans.”

“How can someone hurt a baby like this?” Izuku asks, then looks back at the cat. “Are you male?” The cat hisses. “Female then?” The cat meows. “We need to find you a name. Do you have something in mind?” She shakes her head.

“Hmm, Grape?” Ronin suggests, earning himself a hiss.

“I think she doesn’t like it.” Izuku chuckles.

“Meh, naming is not my strong suit anyway.” Ronin shrugs.

They go home, and Izuku brainstorm names with Dabi.

“Rose?” Izuku suggests.

“But she’s purple?” Dabi replies.

“There are purple roses.” Izuku shrugs.

“Nah. What about Bastard?” Dabi

“Who names their cat Bastard? What's next? Sushi?” Izuku jokes. “Yeah, no. Angel?”

“Her? This one is more like... ” He makes horns with his hands and puts above his head. “Hisser?” The cat hisses at him. “See? She loves hissing.”

“That’s horrible.” Izuku looks back at her, then he notice her front paws are white, like she’s wearing socks, or gloves. “How about, Mittens?”

“Mittens?” Dabi snorts. “Mittens, Destroyer of Worlds.”

The cat perks up, and meows excitedly at them.

“I think she liked it.” Dabi says.

She closes her eyes, and Frank’s phone on the table starts vibrating. Frank picks it up, and checks it, a text to speech app is downloading, and when it finishes it opens and characters starts appearing.

“I’m Mittens, Destroyer of Worlds.” The app says.

Izuku blinks at her a few times, then smiles and scratches behind her ears.

“I guess we found her quirk.” He says. “Technopathy. That’s amazing.”

“I know I’m amazing.” The app says. “But you can say it again.”

Izuku chuckles and keeps scratching her.

Chapter Text

“We need to talk about money.” This is how Frank started the conversation that morning.

Izuku was in the kitchen, having breakfast. Ronin is in the living room watching TV. Dabi was trying to see if he could fry bacon on his ribs. And Mittens was somewhere in the house, doing her cat things.

“Are we having problems?” Ronin asks, muting the TV to pay attention.

“Not quite.” Frank replies. “Izuku being the only one of us who needs to eat makes things much easier. But still, if this group is going to keep growing, we will have to move.”

“Well, this apartment is for one person, and at the moment, there are four living here.” Dabi points.

“I see your point.” Ronin nods. “But what can we do?”

“Hard to say. My boss is a cheap son of a bitch who doesn’t want to pay me properly.” Frank huffs. “I’m the best healer in that damn clinic, but the bastard pays me minimum wage. And he still has the nerve to say ‘If you don’t like it, you can leave’ in my face.”

“So, we need other options.” Ronin says. “Anyone has ideas?”

“I might have one.” Dabi says. “Not sure if it’s safe, though.”

“Oh? What is it?” Frank asks.

“Just something I heard while on one of my walks at night.” Dabi replies. “I heard a group talking about some kind of underground guild. People go there to post contracts, and others go there to accept them. Basically, you get paid to fulfil these contracts.”

“So. Mercenary work?” Ronin asks.

“Basically.” Dabi shrugs.

“Oh, I heard of this place.” Frank says. “I healed a group that came from there. They said something about a contract gone wrong.”

“I guess it’s the best plan we’ll have for now.” Ronin says. “None of us has an ID to get a legal job, and without knowing who we were before, it’ll be quite hard to get one.” He looks at Izuku. “What do you think?”

“Me?” Izuku eyes widen. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re our leader.” Ronin smiles. “You’re the one who reanimated us. You brought us together.”

“But I’m just…” Izuku gestures to himself. “Shouldn’t you be our leader?”

“Nah, I agree with Plain Face.” Dabi says. “You’re the one who brought us here, Izuku. I think you’ll do a good job leading us.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re alone, though.” Frank adds. “We’ll be here to help you.”

Izuku thinks for a few seconds, then nods.

“Okay. In this case.” His expression changes to one of determination. “Ronin, can you look for clues? Anything that can lead us to this guild.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Ronin salutes him.

“Dabi. If we’re going to do this, we need to be prepared.” Izuku says. “Mercenary work is gray area at best, criminal at worst. So I want you and Frank to prepare gear for us. Something that makes it harder to identify us. Medical supplies. Weapons for Ronin.”

“Alright, bossman.” Dabi says, and Izuku knows he’s smirking.

“Sure thing.” Frank smiles.

“Mittens?” Izuku calls, and the cat soon jumps on his lap. “Can you search the internet for us?” He asks as he pats her head. “We need loopholes we can use in case something goes wrong.” 

Mittens meows, and Frank’s phone dings.

“Alright. I’ll find everything we need.” The text-to-speech app says.

“And I guess we’ll need codenames.” Izuku says as an afterthought. “I doubt telling our real names is a good idea.”

“Number one rule in the underground, kid.” Frank says. “Never let anyone know your name.”

Izuku nods and thinks for a few seconds, then he looks at Dabi and smiles.

“Arsonist!!” He says.

“...” Dabi asks. “You’re not wrong about this. But sill…” Izuku giggles.

“Do you know tabletop RPGs?” Izuku asks, and everyone shakes their heads. “They were extremely popular in the pre-quirk era. Nowadays, it still has its fanbase, but it’s quite small. Why pretend to have powers in an era where almost everyone HAS powers?” He explains. “Anyway, there are dozens of systems, and each system has different classes. I think Arsonist is self-explanatory.”

“Good point.” Dabi nods. “Okay, I’m in.”

“Great.” Izuku smiles and then looks at Frank. “You’re Fixer. This class is primarily a healer.” Then he looks at Ronin. “Fighter. Basically, a warrior skilled in many weapons.” He scratches Mittens behind the ear. “Artificer. Engineers and technology wizards.”

“I like it.” Ronin says. “And what about you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Izuku asks. “There’s only one class for me. Necromancer.”

“Alright.” Dabi claps his hands. “So everyone has their roles now. Get to work.”

As they get up to start doing their tasks, Izuku feels a hand on his head.

“See? I knew you’d do fine. You’re a natural leader.” Ronin smiles at him. “Now, if we’re doing this, we’ll need to double down on your training. Are you ready?”

Izuku beams at him and nods.

“I’m more than ready.” He says firmly. “I want to be useful.”

“You are, Izuku.” Ronin replies, ruffling his curls.

“I still want all the training you can give me.” Izuku says. “Don’t go easy on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Ronin grins. “Be ready.”

…

“I’m just saying -” Dabi says from the sidelines as Izuku spars with Ronin. “The aesthetic is already there. You just need to embrace it.”

“And where-” Izuku dodges a blow from Ronin’s bokken and tries to counterattack with his staff but is blocked. “Am I supposed to find a scythe?” He asks. “Do you have any idea of how hard it was to even find Ronin’s Tonfas?”

“Weapons are expensive.” Ronin says, hitting a blow at Izuku’s side. “And you just died again.”

“How many times this makes?” Dabi asks.

“Today? 43. Since I started sparring with Ronin? 428.” Izuku replies. “Against 2 on my side.”

Dabi whistles.

“Man, you don’t pull any punches.” He says.

“How can you whistle?” Ronin asks. “You don’t have lips.”

“I stopped questioning.” Izuku says. “Dabi simply doesn’t make any sense.” He sits down and sips on a water bottle. “And I don’t want him to pull any punches, Dabi. I need to be ready. Who knows what will happen to you guys if I die?”

“That’s why we are here.” Dabi says. “We’ll protect you, Izuku.”

“And I want to protect you guys too.” Izuku replies. “So I need to get stronger.”

“Alright.” Dabi says. “In that case, how about another sparing partner?”

“Bring it on, Bones.” Izuku says with a grin.

Sparring against a long-range fighter is a completely different experience. But Izuku learns quickly; by the end of the day, he even manages to land a blow on Dabi. The proud smile on Ronin’s face was the greatest reward of that day.

…

“No, no. No mask.” Izuku says, looking at the costume design Frank showed him. “There is an old Yakuza group known for wearing raven masks. We don’t want to be associated with them.” 

The design is simple and reminiscent of a Plague Doctor’s uniform. Shoulder cloak. A green hooded robe. Long black gloves. A belt with a pouch. Flexible pants. And long knee-high boots. Izuku also soon realizes that it’s quite easy to hide armor under the robe.

“Alright. Should I choose a new mask, or…” 

“No, let’s leave it like this.” Izuku replies with a smile. “Sometimes hiding in plain sight is the best option.”

“Alright.” Frank says, scratching something in his notebook. “No masks.”

“Now, onto Dabi’s design…”

…

“The red wire. The one on the right. That’s it. Now carefully... NO.” The text-to-speech app instructs as Izuku tries to follow. But he’s just no good with wiring.

“Sorry, Mittens. I failed again.” Izuku says dejectedly while looking at the collar that just shorted out and exploded again.

“We can try again.” The app says. “Failures are just stepping stones to success.”

“I love your optimism.” Izuku replies, patting Mittens on the head. “But we will need new materials.”

“I heard of a beach that has become a garbage dump in recent years.” Mittens says. “We can probably find some electronics to disassemble there.”

Izuku chuckles.

“All right, let me clean up this mess first. I’m covered in soot.” He says.

…

“What do you think?” Dabi shows Izuku his costume.

Dabi’s costume consists of blue pants, a white T-shirt, a blue torn and patched overcoat with short sleeves, and black boots. On his neck, he has a silver necklace with a turquoise-eyed skull.

“Looking good.” Izuku replies with a smile. “Is this fireproof?”

“Nope.” Dabi replies. “But this will have to do for now.”

“I guess you just need to go easy on the flames.” Izuku replies.

“I never go easy on anything, kid.” Dabi says.

“Well, it won’t be my fault if you end up naked again.” Izuku shrugs.

…

“The idiot thought it was fake.” Ronin explains as he unwraps the cloth over the revolver. “He sold it to me for just a third of the regular price.”

“Is this a gun?” Izuku asks, looking at the long barrel of the revolver, whose lower part looks like a knife.

“A gunblade. Do you have any idea of how hard it is to find one in Japan?” Ronin asks.

“Very?”

“Very.” Ronin confirms. “Most are held by weapon collectors, and they just won’t part with their collections.” He swings it a few times to test the weight. “Imbeciles. What use is a weapon if you won’t use it?”

“I guess not everyone thinks like you.” Izuku shrugs.

“Well, I know I’ll make good use of this baby.” Ronin replies.

“Want to spar?” Izuku suggests.

“Sure.” Ronin smiles. “If you land a hit on me this time, we’ll buy ice cream on the way back.”

“Deal!” Izuku nods, grabbing his staff.

…

“Is the lab coat really necessary?” Izuku asks as Frank shows his costume.

“Of course it is.” Frank replies. “To be a doctor, I have to look like a doctor.”

Frank’s costume includes a dark green sweatshirt, black pants, long leather boots, a bag tied to a belt, and a lab coat. His belt buckle is shaped like a skull, and a gun holster is attached to his right leg.

“But you’re not a doctor?”

“Details. Details.” Frank waves him off.

“Okay. So what are we missing?” Izuku asks.

“Ronin’s costume will be ready in two more days. And whatever Mittens are having you work on.” Frank counts. “After that, we just need to be ready for when he finds the guild.”

“In that case, we better not slack off now.” Izuku says. “By the way, how did you get a gun?”

“Someone tried to mug me last week.” Frank shrugs. “As it turns out, being shot is a lot less dangerous when you are an undead.”

“You’re impossible.” Izuku shakes his head and starts leaving. “At least tell me you took the bullet off before healing.”

“Who do you think I am?” Frank replies indignantly. “Of course, I forgot!”

“How the hell did it take 24 years for you to die?”

“I ask the same question almost daily, Izu.”

…

“Yes! It works!” An excited female voice comes from the collar on Mittens’ neck. “See? I knew you could do it, Izu.”

“It only took 35 prototypes and 46 explosions to get one that works.” Izuku replies.

“36 is my lucky number.” Mittens replies. “And now that this is ready, we can go to the next project.”

“And what would it be?” Izuku raises an eyebrow.

“Comms, of course.” Mittens replies. “I just need to set up a secure reception network that only our comms can pick up.”

“And what do you need me to do?” Izuku asks.

“For now, I need you to pick up the package I ordered, and it should be here soon... now.” On cue, a call comes from the door.

“Delivery for Mr. Midoriya Izuku?”

“How do you do that?” Izuku asks.

“Trade secret.” Mittens replies. “Now move on, I’ll start setting the network, but I’ll need your hands.”

“Sure, sure.” Izuku goes to the door. “Too bad we don’t have some kind of mechanical hand that you can control.”

He misses the inspired expression on Mittens’ face when she hears this.

…

The night was calm. The group was at home doing their own thing when the door opens, and Ronin enters with Mittens hanging from his shoulder. She gets down and jumps onto Izuku’s lap.

He is wearing his costume, consisting of a dark gray jumpsuit, gloves up to the elbows, and combat boots. On his belt is a pair of metal tonfas and his holstered revolver on his thigh.

“I have the address.” He says as he enters. “The guild sits under an abandoned bar on the outskirts of Mustafu. To get in, we need a password.”

“And how do we get this password?” Dabi asks.

“I’m already two steps ahead of you.” Mittens says, closing her eyes.

The TV changes to an image of a camera moving around inside a bar falling to pieces. Two armed men walk up to a back door and knock three times. A piece of paper slides under the door. One of the men looks at the paper and then knocks five times on the door. Then the door opens. The man throws the paper over his shoulder and enters.

A few seconds later, the camera approaches the discarded paper. On it is a numerical sequence. 8981 = ?. 

Then the video cuts, and another person is shown. The same thing happens after knocking three times on the door. This one also gets a piece of paper and knocks four times. The number on her paper was 9826. Two other people appear but enter without leaving the paper behind. Another receives the number 6043 and knocks twice. 6317, one knock. 8932, three hits. The video then ends.

“What the hell?” Frank says. “Is there any logic in this?”

“Of course it has.” Ronin replies. “It’s not that hard.”

“Oh! I get it.” Izuku says. “It’s the-” Mittens puts a paw on his mouth to stop him.

“Shh. Let them figure it out.” She says.

“Oh, c’mon.” Dabi complains. “Puzzles are not my thing.”

It takes Dabi about two hours to solve the puzzle, while Frank gives up after the first hour. In the end, Izuku tells the solution.

The next day at night, the group heads to the abandoned bar. Ronin goes to the door and knocks 3 times, and as in the video, a piece of paper is slid under the door. He shows the paper to Izuku. On it are the numbers 8893.

Izuku nods to Ronin, then knocks five times on the door. The door then opens, and on the other side is a tall, hairy man with thick arms. A quick glance is enough for Izuku to identify that this is a gorilla mutation. He wonders how strong this man is.

“First time?” The man asks and continues before they can reply. “Follow the staircase and enter the door at the end of the hall. Fighting is forbidden. If you have something to settle with someone, take it outside. The master - you’ll know who he is - will explain the rest.”

Izuku thanks the bouncer and follows the staircase. At the end of the corridor was a large red door with a silver star-shaped emblem. Below it were the words, Silver Star Guild.

“Ready?” Izuku asks and feels a comforting hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t need to look to know it’s Ronin. Or Fighter. He can’t risk using real names here.

“Let’s go.” Fighter says.

Izuku adjusts the hood on his head, then opens the door.

Chapter Text

Walking through the door, Izuku finds himself in a large hall filled with round wooden tables with mugs. At several of them, groups of people were chatting. On one wall is a large bulletin board full of hanging papers. And a little further ahead is a counter where a woman dressed as a receptionist is talking to another group. The place seems to have been stylized to look like a fantasy guild. Probably the cover is that this place is simply for playing RPGs.

As Izuku and his group walk in, he can feel all the eyes on them.

“Welcome to the Silver Star Guild.” Someone calls, and Izuku turns, seeing a tall man. “I’m the guildmaster. But you can call me Star.”

He has a wrinkled face, with short, neat gray hair and a short beard, and is wearing a formal suit. But his most striking feature is his silver eyes, or more specifically, the right eye behind a monocle, which is shaped like a star and seems to glow.

“You can call me Necromancer.” Izuku greets. “These are Fighter, Arsonist, Fixer, and Artificer.” The man raises an eyebrow at the cat. “Don’t underestimate her.”

“She is far from being the strangest thing I have ever seen here.” Guildmaster Star chuckles, eyes briefly going to the skeleton. “Anyway, you’re here. What are you looking for?” Izuku raises an eyebrow. “No one gets here by coincidence. The door-” He points to the entrance. “Is a test. The people you saw entering are a hint since getting here is the first step.”

“So, you’re saying that we played exactly as you expected.” Fighter comments.

“Pretty much.” The guildmaster shrugs. “If you’re accepted, you’ll get the location of the real entrance. But as I said, I need to know what you want here.” He opens his arm, gesturing to all the people. “The Silver Star Guild, is the number 1 underground union. We deal with information, contracts, support gear, etc. Villains, heroes, civilians, vigilantes, mercenaries. We welcome anyone, no questions asked.” He smiles at Izuku. An unsettling smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “As long as you follow the rules, that is.” The veiled threat is evident to everyone.

“Fair enough.” Izuku says. “Well, we are here for contracts. We need money, and except for me, technically none of us exist.”

The man raises an eyebrow and closes his left eye. His right eye, the star-shaped one, starts glowing as he looks at Izuku, then he looks at the others.

“Oh, I see.” He says. “You have quite the quirk, little boy.”

“What did you do?” Izuku asks, narrowing his eyes.

“That’s my quirk.” The guildmaster replies. “I call it Appraisal. My right eye can appraise anything. With this I can know exactly what the value of a product is. I can also use it on people.” He smirks. “By doing this I can see information about a person’s physical strength, intelligence, agility, and charisma. I also see details about the person’s quirk. I never thought I’d see dead people walking and talking.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep my quirk a secret.” Izuku replies, narrowing his eyes.

“Don’t worry that young mind of yours.” The guildmaster replies. “All the information I gather with my quirk stays only with me.” He smiles genuinely this time. “Now, if you could follow me, I’ll explain how things work here.”

Izuku and his zombie troupe follow the guild master into another room. Everyone sits down, and a woman starts serving tea. Izuku and Star accept, and the others deny. Before he drinks, however, Fixer takes a sip and nods.

“Paranoid are we?” Guildmaster Star comments. “That’s not a bad trait to have.”

“Can we get to the point?” Fighter says, annoyed.

“As you wish.” Guildmaster Star replies. “The guild has quite simple rules. We are a neutral zone, so it doesn’t matter if you see a mercenary, hero, villain, vigilant. Fighting is banned. Quirk usage inside the guild is allowed, but any damage you may cause you must pay for. You can use this place as neutral ground for negotiations, as long as you inform me first. These are the basic rules.”

Izuku takes a sip of his tea. He looks at Star and raises an eyebrow.

“Basic rules, which means there are others, right?” Izuku asks.

“Good to know you are observing.” Star smirks. “You want to be a mercenary. It’s quite simple, you can accept any contract that you may find in the bulletin board, but they don’t pay that well.” He explains. “What you’re really interested on, are the private contracts. But for that, you need to make a name for yourself.”

“So, as we accept contracts and successfully complete them, we become better known, and thus people may be interested in hiring us personally?” Izuku summarizes.

“Exactly. Of course, there’s a bit more to it.” Star chuckles. “As I said, I can measure an individual’s strength with relative accuracy. I can tell that your group will go far. Of course, it is impossible to know how exactly their undead state affects my Appraisal, but that’s beyond the point. I can pull some strings to help you make a name for yourself, but you need to be able to keep up.”

“And how does this benefit you?” Arsonist asks, raising an inexistent eyebrow.

“Simple. Per guild rules, we get a share equal to 20% of the reward from the contracts.” Star smiles at them. “So the more you profit, the more we profit as a result. Having successful mercenaries also increases our prestige. Which brings us to the second rule. Some fools end up biting off more than they can chew. To avoid this, we have a rule for broken contracts. If your group fails to complete a contract, you will have to pay a fine equal to 70% of the contract value.”

“With these rules you ensure that the guild will profit regardless of whether your mercenaries succeed or fail.” Fighter comments with a nod. “And you make sure that the mercenaries don’t take jobs that they can’t complete, because besides the risk to their own lives, they could end up in debt.”

“So, it’s quite the risk to take.” Fixer says. “But the payment is on pair with the risk.”

“Being overconfident is a problem.” Artificer says from her place on Izuku’s lap. “And what happens if someone can’t pay the fine?”

“If someone does not pay the fine within two months, they are banned from all establishments related to the Silver Star Union until the debt is paid.” Which, in the underground, is almost a death sentence.

Those who frequent the guild are primarily informants, mercenaries, vigilantes, and underground heroes. The guild is an asset they cannot afford to lose.

“And what about the law?” Izuku asks. “I imagine you deal with many things in the gray area.”

“The guild will offer you protection for many types of jobs.” Star replies. “If you’re arrested while doing a contract, we can bail you out, but be warned that in doing so, we’ll consider the contract as failed, and you’ll have to pay the fine.” He taps his finger on his chin a few times, then adds. “Of course, we can’t help with everything. Like, let’s say you’re caught while trying to invade the HPSC, or the contract was to assassinate a hero. In these cases, you’re on your own.”

“I see.” Izuku nods. “Is that everything we need to know?”

“Pretty much.” Star shrugs. “You will need to complete your first contract before you can be accepted into the guild. For newbies, we have three contracts available.”

He puts three paper sheets on the table in front of him.

The first is asking to recover a stolen diamond.

The second is an assassination contract.

The third is a kidnapping.

Izuku raises an eyebrow and points to the first paper.

“This contract is very simple. The client was trying to sell a rare diamond to a collector, but he was cheated.” Star explains. “The contract is to get the diamond back from the collector. As a bonus, they will pay you extra if you destroy the collection. They don’t care if you destroy or steal the items. And you can keep anything that is not the diamond.”

Izuku then points to the second paper.

“This young man has upset the wrong person.” Star says. “The methods are irrelevant, but the client will pay a bonus if you bring the head as a trophy.”

Izuku suppresses a wince and points to the third one.

“This is probably the easiest one.” Star shrugs. “Someone owes him a large sum, and the client wants you to kidnap his son.”

Izuku nods and thinks for a moment. All three missions are clearly criminal. Not that he expected anything different. No one would go to an underground guild to hire someone to clean their garage. Izuku knows he will have to make some morally questionable choices, but still…

“We’ll take the first one.” Izuku definitely doesn’t want to kidnap an innocent person, and as for killing... Maybe one day, but not yet.

“Perfect.” Star claps his hands. “Andromeda, give them the details please.” He says to his secretary, who nods. “Well, I’m rooting for you, kid.” He dramatically points upwards. “I’m sure you’ll shoot for the skies.”

…

It’s the next night that Izuku and his squad meet in front of the address. An old house that, although large, seems abandoned. The collector keeps all his items hidden here, and he thinks no one knows the location. An arrogant fool.

The security system is laughably bad. Artificer can disable everything in a few moments. Fighter easily breaks down the front door, and the group scatters to search for the diamond.

The various rooms of the house are set up as a museum exhibit. Izuku finds works of art, sculptures, weapons, and more. Surely this person took years to put all these things together. Then he finds a room full of jewelry.

“Necromancer here. I think I found it.” Izuku says, reaching for his communicator. “Second floor, right wing, third door. There’s a lot a jewelry here.”

“Fighter here.” Fighter answers. “Me and Artificer are in a room with electronic devices. We are looking for anything Artificer can use.”

“Arsonist here.” Arsonist says next. “I’m in the weapons room, there are some interesting things here.”

“Fixer here.” Fixer is the next. “Unless someone wants to wear a medieval helmet, there’s nothing useful here.”

“We can’t carry too much.” Fighter says while Izuku searches the room. “Keep light.”

“Yeah, I know.” Fixer replies. “I’m going to help Necromancer. Fixer out.”

Izuku searches the room and finds many expensive-looking things he wonders if they could sell through the guild. Fixer gets there a few minutes later and starts picking some things up. It takes some rummaging, but he finally finds the diamond, hidden in a display dubbed “The European Jewels.”

“I got the diamond.” Izuku says, picking the three jewels.

“Understood. I got everything I need too.” Fighter says.

“Me too.” Arsonist adds.

“Let’s meet at the entrance.” Izuku says. “Then Arsonist can do his thing.”

“My favorite part.” Arsonist adds, and Izuku can feel a grin in his voice.

Izuku shakes his head and goes with Fixer to the entrance of the house. When he arrives, Fighter and Artificer are already there, holding bags where Izuku imagines whatever they took from the collection is.

A few seconds later, Arsonist arrives, and Izuku only needs to look at him to start shaking his head.

“You didn’t.” He says, observing what Arsonist has in hand.

“Oh, I totally did. What is your excuse now?” Arsonist replies as he gives Izuku the fucking scythe he brought.

“You’re awful.” Izuku says, but he can’t hide his smile.

“What can I say, it’s destiny.” Arsonist replies with a shrug.

“Yeah, yeah.” Izuku says. “Anyway, there’s only one thing left to do. Ready?”

“Always.” Arsonist says and turns to the room. “Arson time!”

Izuku and the others leave the house just as Arsonist raises his arms and lets his fire flow. Within moments the flames spread through the wooden house, consuming everything in their path.

“I should have brought smores.” Izuku mutters as they leave.

Arsonist leaves the house a few seconds later, and as they leave, Izuku drops a small card for the collector to find. After all, the client wanted them to know who destroyed the collection.

After that, they return to the guild, carrying the diamond and a photo of the house in flames as proof of what they did.

Guildmaster Star grins when he sees it.

“Congratulations on your first successful contract. Necromancer.” He says and gives a small card to Izuku. “Welcome to Silver Star Guild.” The card is silver with a star in the corner. It has the name Necromancer printed on it. Izuku raises an eyebrow. “I never erred in my judgment, I knew you would make it, so I had your card made as soon as you left yesterday.”

“Well, Guildmaster Star. Good to work with you.” Izuku says, extending his hand.

“Likewise, kid.” Star shakes his hand. “Take good care of this card. This is your key to any and all guild facilities that you might want to use. You can talk to the receptionist to receive your reward.” He gives Izuku a visit card. “You can open an untraceable account at this bank. No ID is required, after all, most users are morally gray the best, and villains the worst.”

Having concluded the conversation, Izuku leaves with his group, feeling quite satisfied with the work he has just done. He is even happier when later that day, Ronin takes him out for ice cream to celebrate.

He may be a mature child, but he is still a child.

Chapter Text

The Silver Star Guild is probably the most important place in the entire underground. Finding this place is laughably easy, even though it is technically illegal. After all, they don’t need to hide.

The only ones who are generally unaware of the existence of this place, or are stupid enough to try to act against it, are young limelights who think they are invincible, but they soon learn their lesson.

Hero, villain, vigilante, mercenary. Here labels don’t matter as long as you follow the rules. How are the rules emphasized? Simple, by fear. The Siver Star Guild is supported by all major crime lords as well as the government of Japan itself, although this fact is unknown to most people.

The point is the Silver Star Guild is indispensable for anyone involved in the underground. Of course, everyone who is part of the guild is, at the very least, morally gray. Aizawa Shouta, also known as Eraserhead, is no exception. He usually comes to the guild to contact informants, in search of information, about his missions or sometimes about new vigilantes in his area.

But this time, he is here for another reason. A new mercenary he has heard about recently. Now, usually, Eraserhead doesn’t care about mercenaries, but he has heard some disheartening things and wants to know the truth. Specifically, that this new mercenary is the youngest person to ever join the guild.

“Necromancer?” His informant asks from the other side of the desk. “Why do you want to know about him?”

“Is it important?” Eraserhead asks back.

“Well, generally I would say no, after all, as long as I get paid I don’t care.” The informant replies. “But Guildmaster Star is very fond of the boy. I don’t want to cross him, you know?”

“I never thought I would see the day when Star would get fond of someone.” Eraserhead says. “Don’t worry, I don’t want his harm.”

The informant looks at him for a few seconds, then shrugs.

“A bottle of vodka.” The informant says.

“That’s quite cheap.” Eraserhead replies.

“Yeah, it’s not like I have much about him. Anything I’m about to say, you would know if you frequented the place a bit more.” The informant replies as Eraserhead calls the barman and asks for a bottle of vodka. “The kid -” Wait, kid? “Is good. I have to say. Only Guildmaster Star knows his quirk. But he has a group. Another kid who looks like a skeleton. Some guy with white hair who dresses like a doctor. A tall guy, who carries a gun with him. And a purple cat. I don’t know any of their quirks, but the interesting thing is that they made clear that the kid is the leader.”

“Kid?” Eraserhead asks. “How old is he?”

“Don’t know, but he looks quite young. He can’t be older than eight.” The informant replies. “He’s quite adorable. Baby face, freckles, green hair. Right after his first contract, he came back carrying a scythe.”

“Wait. He succeeded?” Everybody knows that the first contract that Star gives to every new mercenary is made to be failed.

“Yup. Caught everyone by surprise.” The informant replies. “I mean, the first contract is doable. What Star tends to do is choose a contract to humble the more arrogant newcomers. Which is the majority of the mercenaries that pass through that door. But still, I was quite impressed.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Eraserhead starts. “The new mercenary of the guild, is a child, probably less than 8 years old. The leader of a team with another child, two adults and a cat. And he passed Guildmaster Star’s test on his first try.”

“Yup.” The informant replies. “If I hadn’t seen it all with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. But well, ask anyone you like. Everyone here will tell you the same thing.”

“No, I believe you.” Eraserhead replies. “You are one of the best informants here after all.”

“Good to know.” The informant replies. “Well, he comes to pick up jobs on random days, but eventually you should cross paths with him.”

Eraser nods and leaves the guild. He may look calm, but the truth is that he is freaking out inside. Not only is a child involved with the underground, but he is also a mercenary. Eraserhead can’t help but be worried.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Bakugou Mitsuki is an abrasive woman. She gets angry easily, swears frequently, and to many people, she is an unpleasant woman. But as much as her way of showing it is different from most, she cares for her family and friends. That’s why when Katsuki comes home one day saying that Izuku hasn’t shown up at school for months, she gets worried.

It’s not the first time Katsuki tells her that Izuku wasn’t at school, but every time she asks Inko about it, she says everything is fine, and Izuku isn’t feeling well.

Although they have no blood ties, Mitsuki sees Izuku as her nephew. This past year, he has visited her less and less, but whenever she asks, Inko says everything is fine. But knowing that he didn’t go to school for months? Just yesterday, she asked Inko, and she said he was fine.

Mitsuki marches to Inko's house. No more excuses. She’s going to find out what’s going on today!

She knocks on the door, and a few seconds later, Hisashi opens the door.

“Inko isn’t home.” He says and starts closing the door, but Mitsuki isn’t having it. She kicks the door and enters.

“Where’s Izuku?” She asks curtly. “Inko said he’s fine, but Katsuki said he wasn’t at school for months.”

“Mi-Chan?” Inko appears in the living room. “What are you…”

“She isn’t home, right?” Mitsuki sneers at Hisashi, then turns to Inko. “Where’s Izuku, Inko? Katsuki said that he hasn’t shown up at school for months. You said just yesterday that he’s fine.”

“Mi-Chan. Look -” Inko starts.

“I got rid of him.” Hisashi says. “That little bastard isn’t my son. So, I got rid of him.”

“What do you mean?” Mitsuki asks, then looks at Inko. “Wait, his quirk… Inko, is Izuku…”

  “Yes…” Inko admits.

“I tried to keep him.” Hisashi says. “But I couldn’t. Looking at him just made me remember that my own wife cheated on me. I was so angry. No matter what I did to him, the anger didn’t stop.”

“You abused him…” Mitsuki says, horrified. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.” Hisashi shrugs. “I dropped him into a forest a few months ago.”

“Mi-Chan.” Inko tries to approach, but Mitsuki punches her in the face.

“You bastard. You let your husband abuse your son. You let him be abandoned, and all of that… Because you couldn’t keep your pants?” She screams at Inko. “You chose, this son of a bitch.” She points to Hisashi. “Over your wonderful son?”

“Mi-Chan. You don’t understand. He wasn’t supposed to be…”

“Shut up, Midoriya.” Mitsuki cuts her. “Don’t call me Mi-Chan, and never come near my family again.” She turns to leave but shoots a last glare at Hisashi. “And you better pray that I can find little Izu.”

Then she leaves. But of course, it doesn’t matter if she meets Izuku or not. She will make it a point to report these bastards for abandonment and abuse. Nobody touches her nephew and gets away with it. She immediately goes to the police to report Izuku as missing. She demands that they find him, but the police say that since it has been over a month, it may be impossible.

Mitsuki has to hold back from attacking someone right there. Being arrested for attacking a policeman will not help Izuku. That night, she tells Masaru and Katsuki what happened. She definitely did not expect Katsuki’s reaction to the news.

Mitsuki has seen Katsuki cry very few times, but upon hearing that Izuku was abandoned in a forest by his parents, he begins to cry. That night, he confesses to Mitsuki what happened at school and how, although he never participated in the bullying, he also abandoned Izuku.

He promises that the day they find Izuku, he will apologize. The next day, Mitsuki takes Katsuki out of Aldera. A school like that will only hurt him. For a few months, he studies online until they find another school for him. And they make a point of checking out everything about this one.

As for Izuku, the police can’t find him, and after a few weeks, they declare him dead. Mitsuki doesn’t believe this for a single second. If the police won’t do anything, she will. She spreads missing person posters all over Mustafu and hires a private detective to search. 

But to her despair, there is not a single clue about Izuku. It is impossible to know if he is alive. But she clings to hope. After all, there is no proof that he is dead either.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Izuku, in blissful ignorance of the great distress he’s causing to an Underground hero and the woman he called his aunt, is skipping toward the ice cream parlor. Beside him is Ronin with Mittens resting on his shoulder, and a few steps behind are Frank and Dabi, as usual, bickering about something.

“I went into the shop one day to get an ice cream treat.” He sings as he skips. “Cause ice cream is my favorite thing, my favorite thing to eat.” Mittens joins in the singing, meowing instead of using her translator. “So many different kinds to try. So many kinds to see. And when it was my turn to say how many scoops to me. I said 1 scoop, 1 scoop for me, please. 1 scoop for me.”

“As impressive as your lungs are Izuku, this is the fifth time you have repeated the same song.” Ronin says. “Can’t you please stop it?”

“What, you can’t handle a little singing?” Dabi asks, looking at Frank and smirking.

“I mean…”

“IIIII…” Dabi starts.

“No!” Ronin points at him.

“Weeeennnttt.” Frank continues.

“Don’t you dare!” Ronin says threateningly.

“Into the shop one day to get an ice cream treat.” They sing together. “Cause ice cream is my favorite thing, my favorite thing to eat.”

“Is this my life now?” Ronin grumbles, making Izuku giggle.

“C’mon Ronin, you’re smiling.” Izuku points.

“I am, and I hate it.” Ronin replies.

“We’re here!” Izuku says, pointing ahead. “Ice cream! Ice cream!” He chants as he skips ahead.

Ronin just shakes his head and follows behind, pointedly ignoring Dabi and Frank, who are still singing the damn ice cream song. That afternoon, Izuku gets three scoops of vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate.

Ronin gets a scoop of mint. What a dull guy. Frank takes two scoops of curry-flavored ice cream. Coming from him, this shouldn’t be a surprise. And Dabi doesn’t take anything. He can’t eat, and a few weeks ago, he revealed that he doesn’t even feel the urge to eat, so it’s not a problem for him anyway.

As the strange family sits down to eat, some people look at them in surprise. Or rather, they look at Dabi, who ignores the stares like he doesn’t even notice them. A quick glare from Ronin is enough to make most people stop. But some are braver. A girl with pink skin approaches them. She seems to be about Izuku’s age.

“Excuse me. Can I take a photo with you?” She asks Dabi, who raises an inexistent eyebrow and chuckles.

“Sure, why not.” He says as the girl’s mom pics her phone to take the photo.

They take the picture, with Dabi giving the girl a pair of horns, and then she thanks him and goes back to her table to finish her ice cream.

“Well, looks who’s popular with kids.” Frank teases.

“It’s not everyday that you see an skeleton.” Dabi replies. “Even in a quirked society.”

“Let’s be fair, we are probably the weirdest group in the world.” Ronin replies. “I mean, we are two zombies, a cat zombie, an skeleton, and a necromancer.”

Izuku giggles, putting down his spoon.

“That’s fair.” He says. “Though it’s not like anyone can tell that you guys aren’t alive.”

“What would they do anyway? Call the Super Gravekeeper-Man to arrest us?” Dabi mocks.

“I’m sure most people would consider Necromancy something immoral.” Izuku points. “I mean, there was a reason why everyone called me a villain at school.”

“Kids are bastards and I want to fight them.” Dabi replies.

“Please don’t.” Ronin says.

“They deserve it.” Dabi points.

“And I’m not arguing about this.” Ronin replies, “I just don’t want to have to bail you out of prison because you decided to murder some elementary schoolers.”

“I’ll try to reign my fury.” Dabi says. “But I make no promises.”

Meanwhile, Izuku just giggles at the interaction, not realizing that Dabi is being completely serious about being willing to kill someone for Izuku.

Chapter Text

It was a simple mission. Break into a villain’s secret base and recover some incriminating files for the client. To reduce the chances of being caught, only Izuku and Fighter entered. Arsonist, Fixer, and Artificer are outside, ready to act if necessary.

It was supposed to be a quick job. Go in, retrieve the files, and leave. And they did find the files quickly. But the situation changed when Izuku found something displayed like a trophy. A preserved body. Some villains do this. Expose the head or body of their enemies as a trophy, both for status and for intimidation. But Izuku recognizes this body.

Tall, muscular, and rock-hard spiky crimson hair. Although his eyes are closed, Izuku knows they are as red as his hair. This man disappeared a few years ago, and many have theorized what happened to him. It seems that Izuku has found out.

Chivalrous Hero: Crimson Riot.

“Fighter.” Izuku calls. “Can you break this glass? We are taking him with us.”

Fighter doesn’t even look surprised. He just nods and hits the glass with his Tonfa.

“Hey, Bossman.” Arsonist calls over the comms. “Artificer asked to warn you to hurry. She can only hold the alarm for 5 more minutes.”

“It should be enough time.” Izuku replies. “But just in case, prepare for distraction.”

“Alright.”

“Let’s go, Fighter.” Izuku says as Fighter secures the body on his back. “I can reanimate him later. It’ll take too long to explain things now.”

They go back the same way they came. The advantage of being so short is that Izuku can go through small passages and open way for Fighter. This is even more useful considering that Fighter has to carry a nearly seven-foot-tall man.

It’s close. A few seconds after they manage to get out, several alarms start to sound. They have managed to get out of the base, but they are not out of the woods yet.

“Arsonist.” Izuku says in his comms. “Diversion.”

“Right on, Bossu.” Arsonist replies.

It doesn’t take long for a cloud of smoke to start rising, followed by explosions. Chaos is instantaneous, with security guards running around, not knowing what to do. Which gives Izuku and Fighter the perfect chance to escape.

“Everyone, fall back.” Izuku gives the order. “Go through different routes. We’ll meet at the guild in one hour.”

“Roger.” Everyone replies.

Then Izuku looks at Fighter and makes a signal, pointing upwards. Fighter nods and climbs up a building. Up there, they won’t need to worry about being seen.

“Lie him down.” Izuku says, and Fighter obeys. He quickly scans the body. “Mummified. I would say he died a year or two ago.”

Taking off his gloves, Izuku quickly reaches into his bag for a glass of antiseptic. He applies it to his wrist and then to his knife for good measure. Placing his wrist above the dried body, Izuku makes a cut and lets his blood flow.

The mummified body begins to recover. The muscles fill up, and the skin is rehydrated. As with the other zombies, the color doesn’t return to him, but he only looks like a very pale man, rather than a literal corpse.

“Alright.” Fighter says. “I think it’s enough. Let’s stop the bleeding.”

Izuku nods and gives Fighter his arm, applying pressure a little above the wound to slow the bleeding. Fighter dresses the wound tightly in bandages. They are about to sit down to wait for the man to wake up when someone steps onto the same rooftop as them.

Both Izuku and Fighter take a fighting stance as they see a tall man wearing black clothes and a gray scarf. The man looks from Izuku to Fighter, then the body on the floor. Izuku can’t recognize him. He checks on what new heroes have debuted weekly, so this man is either a new hero, a Vigilante, or an Underground. He seems too experienced to be a new hero, and his gear isn’t makeshift, so Izuku is betting on the third option.

Immediately, he adopts a fighting stance, which okay, fair. His timing was honestly horrible. So he just hops onto a rooftop and sees two armed guys standing above an apparently, bloodied body. And judging by the way he looked at the body, he recognized who it is.

Izuku tries to think of something to say, but the hero’s hair begins to float away along with his scarf, and before Izuku can react, he is caught and dragged close to the man. Their eyes cross, and Izuku sees the exact moment when the hero realizes that Izuku isn’t just a short guy.

“A kid? Wha-” Then suddenly, Fighter is right next to him, with his gun drawn and touching the hero’s head.

“Let. Him. Go.” Fighter growls. “Now!”

“Fighter.” Izuku calls, and somehow, the hero’s eyes widen even more when he hears his voice. “Put down your gun.”

“Iz- Necromancer.” Fighter grits his teeth.

“It’s okay. He won’t hurt me.” Izuku says, then looks back at the hero. “I know it sounds bad, but we didn’t kill anyone.”

“You still have a dead pro hero that has been missing for years.” The hero says. “And gun pointed to my head.”

“We found him, but he was already dead.” Izuku replies. “But not for long.”

On cue, Crimson Riot starts moving and sits down, gasping for air. Which is more of a reflex reaction. Frank already tested, and the zombies don’t really need to breathe. They can, but it’s not necessary.

“What?” He looks back at Izuku, who smiles innocently at him.

“Yes, he was dead.” Izuku says. “Technically, he still is.”

The man frowns for a few seconds.

“Necromancer is not just a random name.” He looks at Fighter. “Is he dead too?”

“I’m the only one alive.” Izuku replies, then looks at Fighter again. “Fighter.”

Fighter frowns but lowers his gun. Then the man releases Izuku from the scarf.

“That’s really cool. Is that your quirk?” Izuku asks. “Some kind of telekinesis? You use it to control the scarf?”

“My Capture Weapon -” The man emphasizes. “Isn’t part of my quirk. And I don’t know why my hair floats. It just does.” Then he narrows his eyes. “Tell me, why shouldn’t I just arrest you right here?”

“Well, I’m assuming you’re an Underground hero, right?” Izuku replies. “Then you know about the guild. I didn’t do anything too bad, so the guild will back me up. You can arrest me, but I’ll be free in two days maximum. Even less, considering I’m literally a kid.” Then he smirks. “And do you really want to cross Guildmaster Star? He kinda likes me, you know.”

“You’re, unfortunately, right.” The hero sighs.

“So, you know who we are.” Izuku says. “Can we have a name too?”

“Eraserhead.” The hero replies curtly. “Why is a kid playing mercenary?”

“Okay, what in the world is happening here?” They look to the side and see a really confused Crimson Riot looking at them.

“Sorry, Mister.” Izuku smiles at him. “It’s a long story, but to summarize, you’re dead, and I brought you back.”

“Brought me back?” The man asks. “What? Am I a zombie now?” He laughs at his joke but stops when he realizes no one is laughing. “Wait… Am I a zombie?”

Izuku taps on his chest, and taking the clue, the man puts a hand over his own chest. His eyes widen when he doesn’t feel a heartbeat, so he goes to his wrist, trying to feel a pulse.

“You are a zombie.” Izuku replies. “Sorry for reanimating you without your permission, but I can’t really ask before. I can send you back if you want, but first. What do you remember? Do you know your name?”

“My name?” He frowns, putting a hand on his chin. “No, I can’t remember.”

“Age?” Fighter asks.

“38.” He replies.

“Quirk?” Izuku asks.

“Tough as Nails.” He replies. “It’s a hardening quirk.” He demonstrates it by hardening his fists, the area darkening slightly and gaining a stone-like aspect.

“Do you know how you died?” Fighter asks.

“Not really.” The man replies. “I think I remember a fight but not much else.”

“You were a hero, Mister.” Izuku explains. “Crimson Riot, you disappeared two years ago, and I found your body. Actually…” He turns back to Eraserhead. “Do you know his name? You recognized him, right?”

“I don’t know.” Eraserhead says. “I knew him only as Crimson Riot, his civilian name was a secret.”

“Oh, great. Another nameless one for the group.” Fighter says.

“Who said he’s joining us?” Izuku asks. “Shouldn’t it be his decision?”

“Yeah, right.” Fighter replies, raising an eyebrow. “Hey, Red, wanna come with us?”

“Sure, why not?” Crimson Riot shrugs. 

“Just like that?” Izuku, and Eraserhead, ask at the same time.

“Not like I have much else to do.” Crimson Riot replies. “As you said, I’ve been dead for at least two years, and I don’t know if I have a family. If I have, they have already moved on. Coming back when I can’t even remember them would be just cruel. Also, I feel kinda attached to the kid already.”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think it’s part of my quirk.” Izuku replies.

“You don’t know how your quirk works?” Eraserhead asks.

“Eraserhead, I’m a 7-year-old kid, and my guardian is a zombie.” He points at Fighter. “My quirk is Necromancy. Not exactly the most accepted quirk in society. I’m the child of an affair from my neglectful mother, and my abusive father - stepfather, I guess - abandoned me in a forest. Do you think I’ve ever stepped foot in a quirk’s counseling room?”

Eraserhead looks at him in a mix of surprise and worry. Izuku is not used to seeing this from any adult in his life.

“I assume I can’t convince you to let me help?” He asks a few seconds later.

“Sorry, Eraserhead. I have no reason to trust you.” Izuku replies.

“Figured.” Eraserhead sighs. “Alright. In this case.” He pulls a card from his pocket and gives it to Izuku. “I can work on that. This is my number. If you need help, you can call me.”

“Well…” Izuku says. “There might be something. I’m the only one who needs to eat, and none of us really can cook.”

“I’m not good at cooking either.” Eraserhead replies, then reaches into his scarf. He grabs something that looks a bit like a blood bag. He throws it to Izuku, who looks at it with suspicion. “This is a jelly pouch. It’s a good nutritive value.”

Izuku reads the label and finds that it’s strawberry flavored. He opens it carefully and sniffs it, then Fighter takes it and tastes it. He waits a few seconds, then gives it back to Izuku with a nod. Eraserhead observes the interaction carefully but doesn’t comment.

Izuku hesitantly brings the pouch to his mouth, then his eyes widen when the jelly touches his tongue. This is delicious. It barely takes ten seconds for Izuku to completely drain it. He looks back at Shouta.

“Where do you buy that?” He asks.

“This brand is only sold in hero-exclusive stores.” Shouta replies. “But I can buy it for you.”

“Please! I’ll pay for it.” Izuku says eagerly.

“You can’t live only on these, Necromancer.” Fighter says.

“Actually, he can.” Eraserhead points. “Three of those have the same nutritional value as a full meal. They are made for heroes.”

“And enough chemicals to give someone cancer before their twenties.” Fighter counters as he reads the label.

“I’ve been drinking those my whole life, and I’m just fine.” Eraserhead shrugs. “Anyway, other than that, there’s the Silver Star restaurants. Yes, they are part of the guild. They are open 24/7 for guild members, and members have discounts.”

“Damn, what else the guild owns?” Fighter asks.

Eraserhead looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Anything?” He answers. “The Silver Star Union is the most powerful network in the Underground. They own restaurants, bars, hotels, guilds, clinics, auction houses, brothels, black markets, and just about anything else you can imagine. They are supported by all the crime lords of Japan. Crossing the Union is the same as declaring war against the entire Underground.”

Hearing this, Izuku let out a whistle.

“I knew that old man was powerful, but not that much.”

“He’s a great ally to have. He won’t ever push your boundaries, so as long as you stay on his good side, you have nothing to worry about.” Eraserhead explains.

“Well, good thing we don’t intend to be his enemy, then,” Izuku replies, then he looks at his clock. “It’s about time to meet the others.” He says, looking at Fighter.

“Then we should go.” Fighter says, turning to Crimson Riot, who has been quiet for the last few minutes, just watching the interaction. “But what do we do about him? Crimson Riot disappeared about two years ago, but he is still famous enough to be easily recognized.”

“That’s actually a good point.” Izuku replies thoughtfully. “He aways wore a facemask. So probably with a change in hairstyle, most people won’t recognize him out of costume.”

“Well, that’s no problem.” Crimson Riot says, and his hair starts moving. “My quirk works best at the edges. Which means that I can harden my hands, feet, and hair a lot more. An interesting side effect is that I can literally manipulate my hair. Not the size, but I don’t need a comb or gel to change it.”

In a few seconds, his hair goes from looking like a mixture of horns and the Nike symbol to a more common spiky hairstyle that you would see in everyday life. Well, actually, spiky hair is not exactly the most common haircut in Japan, but still, especially with so many quirks, people rarely pay attention to their hair. Izuku would know. Despite his curly green hair that frankly makes him look like a broccoli, he’s still regarded as plain looking by most people he meets.

“Well, that’s certainly handy.” Izuku replies. “So, just take off the face mask and the cape, and it must be enough. Also, we don’t know your true name, but we shouldn’t use it anyway.” He thinks for a few seconds. “Well, for now, I think Barbarian will be a good Code Name for you.”

“Barbarian? That’s a manly name. I like it.” Barbarian replies, bumping his fists together and grinning.

Seeing the interaction, Eraserhead sighs and turns to leave.

“I’ll try to see if I can learn what your name was.” He says. “And I’ll bring some more Jelly Pouches next time. Just be safe, kid. I don’t want to have to bury you anytime soon.”

“If someone ever tries to touch him.” Fighter pulls back his gun and starts twirling it in his fingers. “They’d better be bulletproof.”

Eraserhead simply nods and leaves.

“You know. Our first run-in with a hero didn’t go too bad.” Izuku says.

“We are lucky he’s Underground.” Fighter replies. “Limelights are much more stupid.” He looks at Crimson Riot. “No offense.”

“I’d try to deny. But I have no memories of other Limelights.” Crimson Riot replies. “Yet, I somehow feel that you’re right.”

“Well, we’re lucky. Now, let’s go find the others before Frank and Dabi start a fire. Oh, right.” Izuku says, then looks back at Crimson Riot after ensuring they are alone. “I’m Midoriya Izuku, and he’s Ronin. There are three others in our group, Dabi, Frank, and Mittens. You’ll meet them soon.”

“Eraserhead said he’ll try to find what your name was, but I think you should start thinking of a new name soon.” Ronin says. “We all choose our new names.”

“Well, I’ll have to think for a while.” He says, then looks down at his bare chest. “Hmm. Maybe I could make a tattoo too.”

“Well, you’re not a hero anymore, so you don’t need to worry too much about being kid friendly.”

“Sweet.” Crimson Riot smiles. “I’m going to make a really manly tattoo.”

It doesn’t take long for them to get to the guild and meet the rest of the group. Much to Ronin’s despair, Crimson Riot, Dabi, and Frank immediately get along like a house on fire. Izuku can’t help but laugh.

Chapter Text

Izuku opens the door to the Guildmaster’s office, finding, as usual, Guildmaster Star in front of his desk, looking out the large window with his hands behind his back. Izuku has opened the door to this scene so many times that he has begun to wonder if the view from this window is that good or if Star is just a dramatic old man. But it doesn’t matter.

Today Izuku is here because Star asked to see him - and Frank, too, for some reason - and Izuku has no reason to refuse. He doubts that he is in as much trouble. After all, he has never failed a contact nor broken the guild rules since he joined about a year ago.

“Did you call?” Izuku says as he steps into the room.

Guildmaster Star turns to him and smiles while adjusting his monocular.

“That I did.” Guildmaster Star says, pointing to the table where a tea set is ready. “Sit down, please. We have a lot to discuss.”

Izuku nods and sits down, accepting a teacup from the Guildmaster and, as usual, Frank takes a sip before him. At this point, it’s more force of habit than actually worrying about someone trying to poison or drug Izuku, yet Ronin believes it’s a good habit to keep.

“Would you care for a match?” Guildmaster Star asks, pointing to a chessboard.

Izuku easily recognizes this model. A chessboard where ordinary pieces are replaced by famous heroes and villains. For example, on the heroes’ side, the King is represented by Nedzu, and the Queen is All Might. While on the villain side, the King is a representation of the Boogeyman of the Underground, a well-known legend, but one that Izuku doesn’t know if he really exists. The stories are contradictory.

“Why not?” Izuku replies, spinning the board so the villains are on his side and leaving the heroes for Star. “But I don’t think you called me here just to play. Especially since you asked for Fixer too.”

“You are correct.” Star says, moving his first pawn, which is represented by sidekicks. “I called you two for different reasons. But both are related to your renown in the guild.”

“Renown? Us?” Izuku asks, moving his own pawn, represented by a Yakuza thug. “It’s barely a year since we got there.”

“And yet, you have been taking multiple contracts weekly and never failed a single one, no matter how difficult the job.” Star counter, moving a horse. Miruko.

“Is that rare?” Izuku asks, moving a bishop. An old villain, known as Puppet Master, who was caught by an Underground hero a few months ago. Izuku is pretty sure it was Eraserhead, but the man keeps denying it. “Aren’t we just playing safe?”

“No matter how safe they play, every mercenary here has failed at least once.” Star replies. “Which brings me to the topic on hand.” He moves his own bishop, represented by Midnight. “You got a few private requests.”

“Already?” Frank, who was scrolling through his phone, asks. “I thought it would take longer, considering his age and all that.”

“That’s the magic of the Underground.” Star replies. “Age? Name? Past? Nothing matters as long as you bring results.”

“Do I have to accept those contracts?” Izuku asks, moving his horse Stain.

“Not at all.” Star replies. “Private contracts mean that the client thinks you’re the best suited for the job, or the only one suited. But accepting or refusing, they can’t do anything.”

“Where can I check it?” Izuku asks.

Guildmaster Star moves a hook, Endeavor, and snaps his fingers with his left hand. His secretary enters the room with a stack of papers.

“How many are there?” Frank asks, raising an eyebrow.

“20? Maybe 30?” Star shrugs. “As I said, you made quite the name for yourself.”

“This might be a problem…” Izuku says, eyeing the stack of papers.

“Well, I have another offer for you.” Star says. “For an additional 5% of your rewards, you can hire a secretary to manage your contracts. They know how to handle the paperwork. You just need to explain the types of contracts you wish to accept, and they will send you only the relevant contracts.”

“This…” Izuku thinks as he moves his queen, which is represented by Destro from the original Meta Liberation Army. “Might be a good idea.”

“You don’t need to choose now. But the offer is on the table whenever you want to take it.” Then he looks at Frank. “As for why I wanted you too. Well, I was curious. How powerful is your healing?”

“Lethal wounds, scars. I have no problems healing any of that.” Frank replies easily. “Of course, I can’t do anything if the person is already dead, and I can’t cure diseases.”

“Can you regrow limbs? Or organs?” Star asks.

“Never tried before.” Frank says.

“Do you wanna try?” Star replies, adjusting his monocular again.

Frank grins at him and nods.

“That sounds great.” He replies. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, as you know, the Silver Star Guild is a branch of the Silver Star Union.” Star explains. “One of our many businesses is clinics. As long as you pay, it doesn’t matter who you are. We’ll treat you. And we’d like to call you for emergencies. Sometimes we receive people on the verge of death. Of course, we will pay you an appropriate rate for your time.”

“I see.” Frank says and looks at Izuku.

“How much are we talking about?” Izuku asks.

“Usually, we pay a fixed amount to our employees. But it’ll be different for Fixer.” Star replies. “Since he’s not technically an employee, we’ll be paying half of whatever the healed person has to pay.”

“A 50/50 division?” Frank asks. “What do you think, Necro?”

“Sounds fair, but we should discuss it with the rest of the team first.” Izuku replies. “But we can do that test.”

“Great! Follow me, then.” Star replies. “Check, mate, by the way.”

Izuku blinks and looks down at the board. He had stopped paying attention to the game, but they kept playing, and now his King is surrounded by Star’s All Might, a few sidekicks, and a bishop that looked like it’s wearing goggles and a scarf.

Shrugging, Izuku gets up and follows Star and Frank. In the guild hall, Star soon finds what he is looking for and calls two people. The first one is covered with scars and has a wooden leg. The second looks normal, although a bit pale.

“First, this one is known as Adder.” Star explains. “He lost his leg about two years ago. And this-” He points to the pale man. “Is Owl. He lost a lung in an accident when he was young. Both work here.”

“Alright.” Frank says. “Can you take off the leg?”

Adder doesn’t question. He just removes his wooden leg and sits in one of the chairs. Then Frank kneels in front of him and puts a hand on his missing leg. A glow starts, and Izuku hears a few gasps as a new leg forms. About 20 seconds later, a perfectly functional leg is back in place.

“Well, go easy for now. Your body will need a while to get used to having a leg again.” Frank says. “And I’d recommend physical therapy because I’m sure this new limb will be quite weak for a while.” Then he turns to Owl and does the same, touching his chest, and again, a glow starts.

This time, there isn’t visual proof that it worked, but it becomes clear that it did when Owl starts breathing much more easily.

“Well, this answers our question.” Star says. “Great to know.”

“We’ll discuss things with the rest of the group. We should have an answer by tomorrow.” Izuku says. “And we’ll look through the contracts too. Thank you, Guildmaster Star.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Star replies with an exaggerated bow, and Izuku goes home.

.-.. .- - . .-.

Izuku is sitting at the table, carefully trying to stack a house of cards while talking to Ronin and Crimson Riot. Ronin is looking over the contracts while Crimson Riot - who decided to call himself Katashi after Eraserhead was unable to find his old name - is petting Mittens, who is curled up on his lap.

“The next one is another kidnapping.” Ronin says. “The payment is good, but it’s for the Yakuza.”

“Kidnappings are really in demand these days.” Izuku points. “We never did a kidnapping contract before, so why are so many people trying to get us to do it?”

“Who knows?” Katashi shrugs.

“Then the next one is…” Ronin frowns down at the paper. “An assassination contract. Someone wants us to hunt the Ripper.?”

“The Ripper.?” Katashi asks.

“Isn’t this the copycat that has been replicating a serial killer from the 1800s?” Izuku asks.

“The same.” Ronin replies. “The contract is to find and kill him. But the reward is not even close to the amount that would normally be asked for a murderer, let alone one of this dangerousness.”

“Let me see.” Mittens asks, and Ronin passes the paper to Katashi, who hold it for her. “I saw this one before, it has been on the notice board for a good while, but no one wants to do it. The reward is too low, and the job too dangerous.”

“Who is asking it?” Izuku asks.

“A lot of people. It seems that a group put together the money to request.” Mittens explains.

“I think I know what’s happening here.” Izuku says. “Hey, Ronin. Can you call Guildmaster Star? Tell him I want to talk to the contractor for this one.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Ronin says, then he gets up to get his phone.

“Katashi?” Izuku calls. “You were a hero before. We’ll all understand if you don’t want a part in this.”

“From what I have heard, this Ripper uses blades as weapons.” Katashi replies as he puts Mittens down and gets up. A dragon tattoo he did a few days ago is on display on his bare chest. “This means that I am the best option to face him.”

“That’s true. Still, I don’t want you to go against your morals.” Izuku points. “If we accept this job, I doubt we can escape from killing him.”

“Surprisingly, I don’t feel bad about the thought of killing him.” Katashi replies. “I’m more worried about you, kid. You’re only 8.”

“I guess you’re right.” Izuku says, looking at his hands. “But when I think about killing someone, I feel nothing. The thought of killing is definitely not something that brings me comfort. But I don’t feel bad either. I remember I felt the same the night I found Frank dead. I felt nothing looking at a dead body. It’s like death doesn’t faze me anymore. But I remember crying about a dead bird before.”

“It’s probably your quirk, Green Bean.” Katashi points. “Most quirks, even those that do not include any kind of mutation, give the user a group of instincts that help them use it. For example, the reason why most arsonists have fire quirks is that normally people with fire quirks naturally have a fondness for flames. Something that, if not handled carefully, can easily become pyromania.”

“So, the reason why I feel nothing towards death is because my quirk made me desensitized towards it?” Izuku asks. “But doesn’t that makes me a bad person? I shouldn’t like death.”

“Do you?” Katashi asks back.

“No!” Izuku replies quickly. “I feel nothing towards it, good or bad.”

“There’s your answer, kiddo. Your quirk doesn’t make you some kind of death-loving psycho. You just don’t care about it.” Katashi pats his shoulder. “And even if it did, there’s nothing wrong about this, Izu. Quirks aren’t inherently good or bad. It’s how you use it that will make you good or bad.” He grins at him. “And honestly, cleaning the streets of psychos that heroes don’t seem interested in catching seems like a pretty heroic thing for me.”

“It’s not heroic.” Izuku replies. “We aren’t doing it out of the goodness of our hearts. We are being paid. And heroes don’t kill.”

“You’ll be paid much less than what this work is really worth. You could refuse, but you won’t.” Katashi points. “And I didn’t know heroes weren’t allowed to be paid for their job.”

“As for not killing.” Ronin adds as he enters back the kitchen. “I can assure you. Every hero killed before. It’s impossible to constantly fight criminals using superpowers without ever causing a few deaths. Accidental or not.”

“Even All Might has killed before.” Ronin points. “And he’s very careful on his hero work.”

“For real. Have you ever seen Endeavor’s numbers?” Mittens adds. “The man killed more villains this year alone than many vigilantes throughout their whole careers. Unless you intend on becoming an assassin full-time, I doubt you’ll ever topple his numbers. And he’s the number 2 hero.”

“Alright. Alright. You win!” Izuku replies. “I’m not bad for being desensitized towards death.”

“Good.” Ronin, Katashi, and Mittens say together with a nod.

Chuckling, Izuku goes back to his house of cards. Only two left for him to finish. Careful, Izuku. Steady now. And… 

Suddenly Dabi and Frank burst into the room, wrestling or something. They bump into the table, and all the cards come down, leaving Izuku there still holding the last two cards.

The two idiots keep arguing about something, completely oblivious to Izuku, who just keeps staring at the mess of cards on the table and two in his hands. Then with a sigh, he drops them and gets up.

“Shut up!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Dabi and Frank instantly shut up, and look at him with wide eyes. Or one with wide eyes and one with wide eyesockets. “Fucking god. Are we sure I am the little kid here? If you’re going to fight, do it outside. This place is too crowded.” He sighs and sits down again. “I guess we really need to start looking into moving out. Five people and a cat are too much for this apartment.”

As he finishes his rant, he notices that everyone is still silent. Then he looks, blinking at his zombies.

“We can’t talk.” Mittens explains. “Since you said shut up, it’s like our mouths are forcefully shut.”

“What!?” Izuku asks, horrified. “Since when can I do this?”

“Calm down, Izu.” Mittens replies. “Try to do the same again. I think you need to give an order.”

“Alright. Alright.” Izuku takes a deep breath and takes an assertive stance. “You can talk.”

Then it’s like everyone’s throats were unlocked.

“Well…” Ronin says after a few seconds. “I guess we know another facet of your quirk. You can give us orders.”

“I don’t like this.” Izuku replies, frowning. “You guys are my family, not slaves. I don’t want to order you around.”

“It’s still something you should practice.” Dabi points. “Even if just for the sake of learning how to control it.”

“I guess.” Izuku agrees. “Still… Are you guys ok?”

“Sure. It’s a weird sensation, but I wouldn’t say it’s a bad one.” Frank replies. “And sorry, Izu. Guess we got too carried away.”

“Yeah, my bad, Green Bean.” Dabi adds. “We’ll be more careful.”

“Alright, everything is forgiven.” Ronin says. “Now, for our next step. Izu, Guildmaster Star said we can meet the contractors tomorrow at 11 AM.”

“Perfect.” Izuku replies. “Katashi, Dabi, you come with me this time. Mittens, you’ll be on comms as usual. Frank, stand ready in case healing is needed. Ronin, I want you to try and locate the Ripper. If all goes well, we should be able to catch him before he makes another victim.”

Nodding their agreement, everyone goes to check their gear and make sure everything is prepared.

Chapter Text

Izuku is not really that surprised with what he finds when he meets his contractor. In the room Guldmaster Star set for them, there’s a tall and skinny old woman, accompanied by a younger woman - probably in her Mid-thirties -with black hair and red eyes. From what he heard, a lot of people got together to put up this contract, which makes him wonder why they sent those two to meet him.

He has already decided to accept the contract. The reason for this meeting is simply to understand the contractors’ side. Something that is not very difficult to empathize with.

“People think the Ripper only appeared a few weeks ago, but that is a lie.” The old woman explained to him. “The Ripper has been terrorizing the streets for years, and the heroes did do anything for us. There’s no fame for them here, so they don’t care about us. Only recently, the Ripper got bolder. He started hunting outside his comfort zone, and the press noticed him.”

“And yet, the heroes don’t seem interested in catching him.” The younger woman adds. “The Ripper killed dozens, maybe hundreds of people since he started, and the heroes do nothing.”

“So we went to the guild.” The old woman adds. “But we are a poor community. Mercenaries work for money, and we don’t have enough to pay for a contract like this.” She puts a bag on the table and pushes towards Izuku. “The Ripper killed my daughter. It took weeks for the body to even be identified.”

Izuku looks at the younger woman.

“I was with her when the Ripper attacked.” She explains. “My quirk is called Tracker. I can find the exact location of anyone as long as I know their name and face. If I only know one of those, I can point to a 2km area where I know he is.”

Izuku looks at the bag, then back to the old woman.

“What’s in the bag?” He asks.

“Everything I have.” She replies. “Everything we have. We gathered everything of value any of us had to pay for this.” 

Inside the bag were a lot of things. Money, trinkets, and anything else that might have some monetary or sentimental value.

“So, are you willing to give everything you have for this?” Izuku asks.

“As long as the Ripper is on the loose, none of us can truly live.” The old woman replies. “Any of us can be his next victim. And we already gave up on the heroes.”

Izuku nods, then reaches into the bag, taking a single thing from it. A beautiful silver pocket watch.

“Payment accepted.” Izuku says and pushes the bag back to the woman. “My team will take care of the Ripper.”

She looks at him awestruck and bows to him.

“Thank you.” She says with tears in her eyes. “We’ll never forget this.”

“You can thank me by living the rest of your life without regrets.” Izuku replies as he gets up.

The older woman leaves a few minutes later, and the younger woman stays.

“I want to help.” She says. “I escaped him once, and I’m sure he’ll want to get me again. I can be the bait.”

“What?” Izuku replies. “That’s too dangerous. The Ripper’s MO is finding his victims and stabbing them multiple times. No hesitation, no warnings.”

“I know how dangerous it is.” She replies.

“Are you really sure about that?” Izuku asks. “This isn’t being bait. You’re practically signing to be a sacrifice.”

“I’m sure.” She nods. “I have nothing. And the only friend I ever had is dead. No one will miss me. If I die, so be it. It’s not like there’s a way to bring me back.”

“Well, actually…”

…

The plan works, but as Izuku predicted, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

As he approaches the dark alley, he finds the Ripper with a knife plunged into his victim’s chest.

“Fighter!” Izuku orders and Fighter instantly takes after the murderer, who has the knife poised for a second stab.

As soon as the Ripper sees them, he gets up and starts running, but Izuku knows that Barbarian and Arsonits are close and will soon corner him, so he goes straight to the bleeding woman. Fixer is on his way, but Izuku doubts she’ll be alive when he arrives.

As Izuku lifts her, she smiles at him.

“Are you sure you want that?” Izuku asks her.

“I’m… Sure…” She replies slowly as her skin pales from the lack of blood. “Do… it…” She smiles one more time, then closes her eyes. Her breathing stops right after.

Izuku lies her back on the floor and pulls his knife, cutting his wrist and letting his blood fall on her body. This is the fastest it ever happened. Her blood starts flowing back to the wound, which quickly closes, and she gasps, opening her eyes. Usually, it takes at least a few seconds for the zombie to wake up.

Izuku takes a moment to feel her pulse, but the lack of one confirms that, indeed, she died.

“Did it work?” She asks Izuku.

“It did.” Izuku replies. “What do you remember?”

She frowns for a few seconds.

“Everything, I think.” She replies. “I feel like I had a concussion. A few things are slightly blurred. But I can remember everything.” She smiles. “You can call me Chihiro.”

“I am Izuku.” Izuku replies. “But call me Necromancer while we are working. Now let’s finish this contract.”

She nods, and they go the way the Ripper ran. It doesn’t take long for them to find him, restricted by Barbarian, while Fighter ties him. As Izuku approaches, the Ripper looks at him with a crazed expression.

“So, are you vigilantes?” He asks. “Are you sending me to the police now? I’ll be back, you know? The police are useless.”

“We know.” Izuku replies as he pulls the scythe from his back. “We aren’t vigilantes. We are mercenaries.”

“Oh? I guess I did anger a lot of people.” The Ripper replies and starts laughing. “But they sent a kid to do the dirty work? How pathetic. What are you going to do?”

“You talk too much.” Izuku replies as he walks to the man. He stops and puts the scythe’s blade on his neck. “Last words?”

“Yes. I-”

“Too bad.” Izuku cuts him and pulls the scythe, easily severing the head, which rolls to the floor. 

Blood splashes everywhere, practically painting Izuku’s costume red. But like other death-related things, Izuku immediately realizes that the blood doesn’t bother him. The rest of the body falls down, but Izuku feels nothing about it. Good or bad.

“Should we bring something as proof?” Izuku asks.

“My word must be enough, but you should take his knife too.” Chihiro replies.

Izuku nods and picks up the bloodied knife from the corpse, putting it in a small bag. Then he looks back to the headless body and frowns. He picks up the head and puts it close to the rest of the body.

“Arsonist.” He calls. “Burn the corpse.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Arsonist replies and raises a hand towards the corpse.

They leave the burning corpse behind and go back. 

Izuku sighs at his bloodied state. He really needs a shower now.

…

A few weeks later, Izuku crosses paths with Eraserhead again. Today he’s been hired as a sentinel for a paranoid client who is sure there’s someone spying on his business. So he brought Mittens and Chihiro with him. Chihiro officially joined the group and adopted the codename, Ranger. As it turns out, she’s an excellent archer.

Meeting Eraserhead was a complete coincidence. It turns out that the building Izuku chose to observe his client’s business is the same building where Eraserhead likes to take his break during his patrols. By now, Izuku is sure the man doesn’t want to arrest him, so he doesn’t tense when he drops by.

Eraserhead just looks at the people there and then looks back at Izuku.

“New member?” He asks.

“This is Ranger.” Izuku says, shrugging. “We met her a few weeks ago. When we were after the Ripper.”

“The Ripper?” Eraserhead asks, frowning. “He has made no new victims in a while. Is he…”

“Dead.” Izuku shrugs. “That was the contract, he’s dead, and his body cremated.”

Izuku observes warily what will be the other man’s reaction to him basically admitting he killed someone, but to his surprise, Eraserhead nods at him.

“I’ll let the police know.” He replies. “They are all wondering when the next victim will appear.”

“Is that all?” Izuku blurts before he can stop himself. “I just said I killed the Ripper.”

“Yes, you did.” Eraserhead replies. “And I don’t approve of it, but mercenaries kill. I can’t do anything about it.” Then he sighs. “Did you like it?”

“Killing?” Izuku asks. “Not really.”

“Then I doubt you’ll become the next serial murderer.” Eraserhead replies. “I’m willing to look the other way.”

“You’re very morally gray, Eraserhead.” Izuku says.

“Most Underground heroes are.” Eraserhead shrugs. “I still wish that you didn’t have to be a mercenary, especially at such a young age.”

Izuku shrugs and turns back to observe the business.

“I’m trying to make the best with the hand I got.” Izuku replies. “I refuse to go to foster care. That’s practically a death sentence.” He looks up and smiles. “I’m sure you agree with me. You never tried to catch me, after all.”

“Your point?” Eraserhead asks.

“I am just saying that Necromancy is not exactly a common quirk. In fact, I am sure I have never heard of a quirk like mine.” Izuku explains. “I’m sure anyone with access to the police’s quirk database - for example, a sleep-deprived Underground hero - could easily find out who I am. Am I right?”

Eraserhead looks at him for a few seconds and sighs.

“You’re Midoriya Izuku, right?” He asks, and Izuku nods. He knows he’s taking a gamble with this. He just confirmed his identity, so if Eraserhead wants to catch him, he has everything he needs. But to his surprise, Eraserhead does the last thing he would expect. “I am Aizawa Shouta.”

“That’s your name…” Izuku says and looks at Ranger, who nods at him. She can locate him, which means this is his real name. “Your real name.”

“Yes, this is my real name.” Eraserhead replies. “Don’t tell anyone outside of your team, ok?”

“I promise.” Izuku says with a serious nod.

“Good.” Eraserhead replies, and after a second, he slowly reaches Izuku’s head and ruffles his hair. “I need to go back to patrol. Be safe, kid.”

Izuku nods, and Eraserhead leaves. When he turns back to Chihiro and Mittens, they are smiling at him. He didn’t even know cats could smile, but Mittens apparently can.

…

A few days later, Izuku is taking a walk during the night. It’s not that late, about 9 PM, but still. Most of his team is out doing a job, so he has nothing to do. As he passes through an alley, he hears a muffled cry.

“This doesn’t sound like a cat.” Izuku mumbles as he checks his pockets. 

He doesn’t have his scythe because carrying that thing around is impossible without looking like a crazy cosplayer, but he always carries a pocket knife when he walks alone. So even if he finds a murderer in this alley, he probably can deal with it. Hopefully.

…

This is a horrible idea.

He goes in anyway. 

Gripping the knife in his pocket tightly, Izuku steps into the alley.

“Anyone here?” He asks, and he hears a muffled gasp.

He takes a few more steps, and then his training kicks in. Instinctively, Izuku ducks, avoiding a punch to the face. Then he pulls his knife, grabs the arm that tried to punch him, pulls it towards him, and presses the knife to the neck of the aggressor.

And then he notices that this person, while taller than him, is too short to be an adult. As he walks back, still holding the arm, the person has no choice but to go with him, stepping into the light. The first thing Izuku notices is the gravity-defying purple hair. Then the tear-stained cheeks. Purple eyes, puffy from all the crying, and with heavy eyebags that only someone with serious insomnia would have. And finally, the muzzle tightly and painfully digging into his face.

Izuku slowly pulls his knife away from the other kid and drops his arm. Then he raises his hands.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.” He says. “But this looks painful. Can I take this thing out of your face?”

Chapter Text

Days off are rare for Shouta. As an Underground hero and teacher, he rarely has the luxury of taking a day off for himself. And even when he does have one, he spends all day preparing his next classes and grading papers.

(No, it’s definitely not because he’s a workaholic with enough accumulated time off to take a sabbatical year, and Nedzu has to practically force him to take a day off for him to have a rest day. Shut up, Zashi).

On this day, he is at home grading his classwork and wondering why on earth he agreed to become a teacher when he hears a knock at his door. This makes him raise an eyebrow. 

Nemuri has a key to the house, and as much as she likes to drop by unannounced, when she does, she just walks in. Zashi is working, and even if he has forgotten his key, he knows where they keep one hidden. If someone else was coming to visit, they would have sent a message first. And villains are not the type to knock before they break in.

He contemplates the chance that it might be a salesman, but the building won’t let them in, and he lives on the 4th floor, so this is probably not the case. Therefore, he has no idea who it could be.

Well. He thinks as he goes to the door. Whoever it is can’t cause me a bigger headache than those essays.

When he opens the door, he immediately takes it back.

“Hey, Aizawa-San.”

“You’re Eraserhead!”

Two voices draw his gaze downwards where he finds who it belongs to. The first one, Shouta, is more than familiar. Necromancer - or maybe he should call him Izuku since he’s not in costume, and they’re not at the guild.

The second one is also a kid, a bit taller than Izuku, with purple gravity-defying hair and suspicious marks around his mouth. And wait… Did he recognize Shouta?

Nope! Not on my day off. Shouta thinks as he slams the door shut. He’s considering whether or not he should just jump out the window when the knocking resumes.

“You seem pretty sure of this.” The unfamiliar voice says.

“Of course I am.” Izuku replies. “C’mon Aizawa-San, don’t make me pick the lock and enter. I will.”

Shit, the kid knows how to pick locks? He might. If anyone would randomly have this skill, it would be him. And Shouta is not about to let two children lose unsupervised in his home.

Sighing, he opens the door again and looks at them. Izuku looks at him with an innocent smile, though his eyes are filled with mischief. The other kid seems to look at Shouta with a mix of admiration and wariness. The latter he’s used to, but the former?

Shouta looks back at Izuku and sighs, gesturing for them to come in.

“Please, tell me the kid isn’t a zombie too.” Shouta says as he observes the boys taking off their shoes.

“Nope. He just looks like one.” Izuku says, grinning.

“Wait…” The other kid says. “I don’t know why you would think I’m a zombie.”

“Oh, Toshi, I already said you don’t need to mask your questions.” Izuku says. “Everyone here understands what you went through.”

“What?” The purple kid - Toshi? - asks, then slaps a hand over his mouth. “You’re saying you also have a villainous quirk.” Again with a statement instead of a question. Whatever this boy’s quirk is, it’s probably activated via call and response.

“Yup? Did I forget to tell you my quirk? My bad.” Izuku says and laughs.

“How about you explain what’s happening and how did you find my home first, Problem Child?” Shouta asks.

“Simple. Ranger knows your name and face.” Izuku shrugs. “That’s her quirk. She can locate anyone as long as she knows their name and face.” Which means that she can locate Shouta anywhere… Great… “I didn’t know this would be your home, though. Sorry.”

Well, it’s not like Shouta didn’t intend to tell him where he lives in the future.

“Whatever…” Shouta grumbles as he walks to the kitchen and starts his coffee maker. He needs coffee to deal with whatever bullshit this is going to be. “I doubt you came here just to talk. Especially if you brought…” He looks at the purple boy. “A living kid.”

“Well, this is Shinsou Hitoshi, and I found him muzzled in a dark alley. I can’t really help him alone, and my group can barely keep one kid alive, let alone two.” Izuku says. “He’s an Eraserhead fanboy. You are Eraserhead. So I thought, why not bring him to you? You like strays, right?”

“Cats, Problem Child. This is a whole ass child!” Shouta says, exasperated.

“Hey, look him in the face and tell me he’s not cute like a kitten.” Izuku says, throwing a hand over the purple kid’s - Shinsou Hitoshi - shoulder and poking his cheek. “If you pet him, I’m 83.7% sure he’ll start purring.”

Meanwhile, Hitoshi was looking at them with a half-confused, half-amused expression. Well, at least he doesn’t seem wary anymore.

“Well, I can’t just take him in.” Shouta says, though he’s actually already sold on the idea. “I need to talk to my-”

“SHOOOUUUU!!! I’M HOME!!!” A ridiculously loud voice calls from the entrance door.

“Husband first…” Talk about timing…

“HEY, SHOU DO WE HAVE GUESTS!?” Zashi says as he enters. “THERE’S TWO PAIRS Of shoes at the door and…” Shouta erases his quirk as soon as Zashi is in his line of sight, but he’s already used to it and keeps talking until he sees Izuku and Shinsou in the living room. “Hey there, Little Listeners.” He looks at Shouta. “I thought you only had one kid?”

“I don’t have any kids, Zashi.” Shouta says.

“Aww, you talk about me, Eraser?” Izuku says in a mockingly sweet tone. “I knew you had a heart.”

“I hate you…” Shouta says. He’s not sure if he’s referring to the kid or his loud husband.

The damn kid just laughs at his face, and the sound totally doesn’t warm Shouta’s stone and cold heart. He has no idea why Zashi is giving him this knowing smile, either. The bastard is asking to sleep on the couch.

“Well, since your husband - Hi Present Mic. I’m a huge fan of your radio, can you give me your autograph? - is here. You can talk with him.” Izuku chirps, pushing a notebook he got from god knows where into Zashi’s hand.

“Hey, Little Listener, sure can.” Zashi says, signing the notebook. “The name’s Yamada Hizashi, by the way.”

“I’m Midoriya Izuku.” Izuku replies. “I imagine your grumpy husband introduced me as Necromancer, though.”

“He sure did. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name, though.” Zashi replies, giving the notebook back. “And what is that Shouta needs to talk with me about?”

“He wants us to adopt a kid.” Shouta says, pointing to Hitoshi, who waves at him.

“Yup. This is Shinsou Hitoshi. I found him muzzled in an empty alley.” Izuku says. “He’s lovely and could easily pass for Eraser’s bio child.”

“Zombie Listener.” Zombie Listener? “You had me the moment you said ‘muzzled.’ Shou, the kid is ours.”

“Wait.” Hitoshi says. “You don’t even know why I was muzzled.”

“It doesn’t matter, Little Listener.” Zashi replies. “There’s no good reason for muzzling a child.”

“Kid, Zashi was muzzled because of his quirk when he was younger.” Shouta says.

“My quirk is Necromancy, Toshi.” Izuku adds. “I can literally raise the dead. It’s hard to get more villainous than that.”

“Erasure wasn’t a well-regarded quirk either.” Zashi says, pointing to Shouta. “Shou’s teachers during Middle School used to force him to wear a blindfold.”

“None of us will judge you for your quirk.” Shouta says. “We all suffered quirk discrimination.”

Hitoshi looks at them for a few seconds and nods.

“My quirk is Brainwashing.” He says. “I can control people if they respond to a question I ask.”

“That’s… AMAZING!” Izuku jumps, his eyes almost looking alive. “What are your limits? Can you order anything? Can you control multiple people? Any question works? Is this why your questions always sound like statements? What about -”

“Kid, let him breathe.” Shouta interrupts him.

“I don’t know.” Hitoshi says. “I never got the chance to train my quirk.”

“Well, I’m happy to help you with it.” Izuku replies. “I wonder if your quirk works on dead people…” He mutters.

“That’s actually a good question.” Shouta says. “How do your zombies even work? Dabi is literally only bones. He has no brain to be controlled.”

“Look, I gave up trying to understand Dabi a long time ago.” Izuku says. “He makes no sense even by my quirk standards.”

“Skeleton. You have a living skeleton.” Hitoshi says.

“Well, living is a bit of a stretch.” Izuku replies. “But as I said, I can raise the dead.”

“I thought you were the dead.” Hitoshi points. “I mean, your eyes have no life. And your hands are so cold that I thought you had an ice quirk.”

Izuku laughs at that.

“Yeah. That’s part of my quirk. But I’m alive.” Izuku says, grabbing Hitoshi’s hand and putting it against his chest. “See? My heart does beat.”

“That’s…” Hitoshi says in confusion. “My grandma’s heart beat faster, and she died of heart failure.”

“That’s just how my quirk works.” Izuku shrugs. “If I remember correctly. According to what I remember from the only time I visited a quirk specialist, it’s because my quirk is blood-based and my skin is fragile. My heart beats slowly so I don’t die of blood loss from a simple paper cut.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” Hitoshi says. “That’s the weirdest quirk I ever heard of, though.”

“Yeah. I hear that a lot.” Izuku snorts. “Anyway. It’s decided then. Toshi, these are your new parents!”

“I’m… Pretty sure that’s not how adoption works.” Hitoshi says, raising an eyebrow.

“It is when the parents work for Nedzu.” Shouta replies.

“Yup.” Zashi says as he looks at his phone. “Just talked to him. He said the adoption will be ready by the weekend. And your current foster parents will be in jail in two days.” He looks at Shouta. “He asked if you want to do the honors.”

“Slapping the cuffs on a pair of quirkist child abusers?” Shouta asks. “Count me in.”

“Oh, by the way, Shouta.” Zashi says. “Looks like the next-door apartment is finally being rented. Some tall, pale, black-haired guy is talking to the landlord.”

“Tall, pale, and…” Shouta looks at Izuku. “Black-haired?” No, it has to be just a coincidence. There’s more than one tall, pale, black-haired person.

“Yeah. The guy is white as paper. Looks like he never saw the sun before.” Zashi says. “He’s talking to the landlord right now.”

Izuku looks at Shouta in confusion. Looks like he’s thinking the same.

“I mean, we are looking for a new apartment.” Izuku says. “Frank’s apartment is too small for all of us, but…” He frowns. “Hold on.”

Saying that, Izuku grabs his phone and walks to the door dialing a number. As he opens the door, and at this exact moment, the next door opens, and the landlord steps out. Behind him, Shouta hears a song.

I went into the shop one day to get an ice cream treat.

’Cause ice cream is my favorite thing, my favorite thing to eat.

“Dabi, I’m gonna kill you!” He hears an angry voice calling just as Izuku stops the call.

As the other person steps outside, he and Izuku look at each other for several seconds.

“Well, this is awkward.” Zashi says after a few moments of silence.

“I mean, I guess calling everyone for a job that easy was too much, and I probably should have suspected something when you insisted I didn’t need to go.” Izuku says. “But was that necessary?”

“Well, it was supposed to be a surprise.” Fighter replies. “I wasn’t expecting our neighbor to be Aizawa, though.”

“Oh, so you know each other.” The landlord says. “Good, here’s the key. The rent is due on the first day. I don’t pry into your business, and you don’t bring problems to my building.” Having said that, she leaves.

“Well. Ok…” Izuku says and shakes his head. “Well, it looks like we are neighbors now. Aizawa already knows, Fighter. The name’s Ronin.” Then he looks at Ronin. “You already know Aizawa. These are Yamada Hizashi and Shinsou Hitoshi.”

“Didn’t know Eraserhead and Present Mic were married.” Ronin says, then looks at Hitoshi. “Or that they had a son.”

“Well, they have now.” Izuku says, smiling innocently as Ronin raises an eyebrow. “Don’t worry.”

“For the sake of my mental sanity, I’ll ignore this.” Ronin says, turning to Hizashi and Hitoshi. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Hey, nice to meet ya.” Zashi greets.

“Yo.” Hitoshi says. “Nice ringtone.”

Ronin’s expression looks like someone who has just eaten a lemon as he turns to Izuku.

“I’m killing Dabi.” He says. “That damn skeleton is dead.”

Izuku chuckles and pats Ronin on the arm. 

“Well, he IS dead.” He says. “When are we moving?”

“Tomorrow.” Ronin replies. “There’s not much to move. I guess we’ll need to buy furniture, though.”

“Well, Frank… No, not Frank. Chihiro.” Izuku nods. “Yeah, Chihiro and I can go.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Ronin says. “I wouldn’t trust Frank with decorating his room, let alone a full apartment.”

“Err… Out of curiosity.” Hitoshi says. “I’d like to know how many you have in your group.”

“Well, there’s me, Dabi, Ronin, Frank, Mittens, Katashi, and Chihiro at the moment. So six in total. Seven if you count me.” Izuku says.

“And how many of them are alive?” Shouta asks. Izuku raises a finger. “You don’t count.”

“Then, zero.” Izuku shrugs. “By the way, I’m out of jelly pouches.”

“WHAT!?” Zashi says. “Shou! You aren’t teaching the Zombie Listener your eating habits, right?”

“He didn’t need me to teach him anything.” Shouta replies.

“Well, I’m the only one who eats. And none of us can cook.” Izuku defends.

“No! This won’t do.” Zashi says. “You’re eating with us!”

“I don’t want to impose.” Izuku says, waving his hands and blushing.

“Nonsense! I insist!” Zashi replies.

“Give up, Problem Child.” Shouta says. “You won’t convince him. Just come.”

Shouta watches as the Problem Child still tries to convince Zashi that it’s not necessary. Good luck to him. One word that perfectly describes Yamada Hizashi is “stubborn.”

Shouta is sure that his new neighbors will make his days a lot louder. But as he watches his new son and Izuku talking, he realizes he doesn’t mind.

I’ll miss my naps, though…

Chapter Text

“So, explain to me again why we are the decorators.” Mittens says.

Izuku, Mittens, and Chihiro are walking around the big mall, searching for everything they need to decorate their new apartment. Mittens is perched on Izuku’s shoulder, and Chihiro is right behind them.

“Because Ronin is too minimalist. Katashi would turn the apartment into a gym. Frank would just grab the first thing that catches his eye, which means the most outrageous colors you can think of. And I don’t trust that Dabi won’t start a fire if he sees something he doesn’t like.” Izuku explains. “You, me, and Chihiro are the only ones with common sense.”

“Chihiro, I get.” Mittens replies. “But I’m a cat. I don’t care for human decoration as long as we have a cat tree, or a cardboard box. Preferably the box.”

“Yeah, sure. But I have a surprise for you after we buy what we need.” Izuku says, smiling and petting the cat’s head. “So, just bear with me for now.”

“Fine.” Mittens replies with a huff. “You’re lucky you’re my favorite. One of our stops better be a pet shop.”

“Sure thing, my overlord.” Izuku says, scratching the cat behind the ear. “Where should we start?”

“We need things for the living room and bedrooms.” Chihiro says. “Since you’re the only one who sleeps, you’re taking one of the bedrooms. We are making the second one, Frank’s lab and the third one will be Mittens’ office.”

“Hmm… Let’s start with the Living room?” Izuku suggests.

The group walks together to the furniture store, where they begin their search.

“A kid, a zombie, and a cat walk into a store.” Izuku says with a chuckle. “This sounds like the beginning of some bad joke.”

“And what would the punchline be?” Mittens asks.

“Who knows?” Izuku shrugs. “What do we need?”

“We need a sofa, beanbags, shelves, a coffee table...” Chihiro lists.

“Don’t forget my cat tree.” Mittens says.

“Wrong store. Oh, maybe a few potted plants?” Izuku says. “To give some life to the ambient.”

“We can barely keep you alive, let alone plants.” Mittens replies.

“Fair.” Izuku shrugs. “How about fake plants? Like plastic flowers or something.”

“I guess.” Mittens says. “I bet Dabi and Frank will somehow make a joke out of it.”

“Probably.” Izuku nods. “Well, let’s start.” He says, looking around the store.

“Hey, I found the couches.” Mittens says. “Let’s choose one!” Then she jumps down his shoulder and runs ahead. Izuku chuckles and goes after her.

As they sit on the different couches, trying to find the best one, Chihiro watches them with a fond smile on her face. She takes her phone and snaps a picture of them.

Hollywood Undead

TryToHide: 

Photo sent

Why are they so cute?

JustBones: 

Looks like you’re having fun

Meanwhile I’m trapped with Mr boring, cleaning the apartment

Dr.Victor: 

Ha! Things are much better at the guild.

I already healed five open fractures today.

Never a dull moment with those mercenaries.

RiseFromYourGrave: 

Hey, anyone knows a good flower arrangement that we can use to decorate?

To liven up things a bit

JustBones:

…

RiseFromYourGrave:

Dabi?

Dabi??

???

What happened?

FightMe:

Dabi just grabbed his wallet and ran out, yelling something about flowers.

What the hell just happened?

RiseFromYourGrave:

I think I made a mistake

Dr.Victor:

I just finished things here

I can go find the Skeletor and help him with the flowers

RiseFromYourGrave:

I definitely made a mistake…

TryToHide: 

Let’s hope they don’t choose anything too weird.

…

Yeah…

You definitely made a mistake.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Dabi is not exactly what one would call a flower boy. He may not remember anything about his past, but he is sure that he has never touched a plant before. But hell, to get away from the cleanup with Ronin, he’ll take anything.

Also, Izuku only asked for a flower arrangement. He didn’t give clear information about what he wanted. In Dabi’s books, this gives him free rein to mess around.

“It’s probably better to get fake flowers. I don’t think Izuku can make zombie flowers.” Dabi thinks aloud as he walks. “That’s actually something I’d like to see.”

Like a true professional, he perfectly ignores the stares he gets from the people. It’s like they never saw a skeleton before.

“What kind of flowers should I get?” Dabi wonders aloud.

“I suggest Chrysanthemums.” A very familiar voice says.

Dabi turns around and finds the pale figure of his white-haired older brother annoying teammate looking at him with his usual smile.

“Don’t you have people to heal?” Dabi asks, raising an inexistent eyebrow. 

“Slow day.” Frank shrugs. “Healed a few people. If they need me again, Star has my number.”

“Ok, then.” Dabi says, looking around. “Chrysanthemums, you said?”

“Yup.” Frank replies, smirking. “Death flower.”

“Oh, god. Why didn’t I think of it?” Dabi laughs. “We should throw in some Spider Lilies as well.”

“Oh! Carnations too.” Frank adds. “It’ll give it a nice touch.”

“Hmm, this will be quite the bouquet.” Dabi says, laughing. “How about…” He stops and looks a bit ahead, a smirk tugging on his nonexistent lips. “I have the perfect idea.” He points ahead.

Frank turns around, and his eyes widen at the sight. He looks at Dabi, grinning like a madman.

“Dabi, I platonically love you.” He says. “Let’s go!”

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

For some reason, Izuku feels a cold chill run down his spine. And he is sure that it is related to his resident skeleton and doctor. These two together, unsupervised, are a disaster waiting to happen.

Well, that’s a problem for future Izuku. Present Izuku is carrying Mittens with a hand clasped over her eyes. He has a surprise prepared for her after all. As they enter the underground support company, Izuku takes his hand away.

Mittens’ eyes widen at all the devices, tools, and components she can see around. She jumps down and starts walking around, looking at everything.

“I know I’m dead, but I didn’t expect to end up in heaven.” She says in wonder.

“Well, we are building an office for you, but you’ll need tools for that.” Izuku says. “So, choose everything you need. There’s no budget.”

Mittens looks at Izuku like he just hung the moon.

“I love you, Izuku.” She says and starts walking around.

As Mittens does her thing, Izuku walks to the counter and has a hushed conversation with the attendant. He came here a few weeks ago at Guildmaster Star’s recommendation. This is an underground support company and part of the Silver Star Union. He came here to commission a gift for his favorite zombie cat.

“Is it ready?” Izuku asks in a hushed tone.

“We finished yesterday.” The attendant replies. “I still don’t know how anyone will operate it, though.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Izuku waves them off. “Just bring it here.”

“Alright.” The attendant shrugs and walks away.

A few minutes later, she comes back with a small backpack-looking thing in her hands. And just in time, because here comes Mittens and Chihiro. Looks like Mittens got Chihiro to make a list with everything she wants to buy.

“Hey, Mittens. One more surprise for you.” Izuku says, showing the backpack.

“What’s that?” Mittens asks, tilting her head in confusion.

“Try connecting to it.” Izuku says.

Mittens closes her eyes and concentrates for a few seconds. Then the backpack starts moving. From its side, arm-like things expand and start moving around. Mittens opens her eyes and looks at it in wonder. She tries it for a few seconds and soon is moving it like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“I can finally build my own things!” She says excitedly. “That’s amazing! I’m calling it the ‘back-arms.’”

“Glad you like it.” Izuku says, grabbing the backpack and carefully strapping it on her back. “How is it?”

“A bit heavy, but I can get used to it.” Mittens replies, extending the arms again and moving the fingers. “It’s perfect. This will be so useful.”

“Huh, a technology quirk?” The attendant asks. “And this device. An animal translator? Would it work with any animal? Or does it only work because of your quirk?”

“What do you think I am, human?” Mittens replies. “I am Mittens, Destroyer of Worlds. My gear is nothing short of perfect. Any animal can use it, but of course, if you put this on some animal with limited intelligence, you’ll only hear gibberish.”

“That’s still amazing.” The attendant replies. “Would you be willing to sell us the blueprints? We will pay the appropriate value for it. This invention is revolutionary.”

“This little thing? It was barely worth my time.” A ding is heard on the attendant’s screen. “You can have it. But don’t expect me to sell my other inventions.” She looks at Chihiro, who puts the list she made on the counter. “We also want to buy everything on this list.”

“Very well.” The attendant says, nodding. “Still, I can’t have this for free.” She looks at the list and smiles. “Alright, you can take everything on this list. On the house.” 

“Do as you wish, human.” Mittens replies.

“Perfect.” The attendant nods. “We’ll arrange for it to be delivered for you as soon as possible. Where would you like to be delivered?”

Mittens look at Izuku.

“Our apartment.” Izuku replies, quickly jotting down the address. “Guildmaster Star assured me it’s safe to trust you. I know you won’t double-cross us.” He says, smiling, but the warning is clear.

“Understood.” The attendant replies, not even batting an eye at the threat. “Everything will be delivered by tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” Izuku says with a smile.

…

As Izuku gets home, he lets out an impressed whistle at how fast the furniture store is. Everything they ordered for the living room has already been delivered and assembled. As he walks in, he sees Ronin scratching his head while looking at the new TV remote.

“I have no idea how this thing works.” He says as he notices Izuku, Chihiro, and Mittens walking in. “These new technologies make no sense.”

“You talk like you are some kind of elder.” Mittens says. “I think I’m gonna start calling you old man.”

“Don’t you dare.” Ronin replies, pointing the remote at her. “Dabi and Frank are already annoying enough.”

“Speaking of them.” Izuku chimes in. “Aren’t they home yet? How long does it take to buy some flowers?”

 “I’m almost afraid of what they’re getting.” Chihiro says. “I mean, Frank is the one who makes most of the money here, so I guess we can’t say much about his tastes.”

“That’s why he’s getting one of the rooms.” Izuku replies.

“Yeah, his ‘lab,’ right?” Mittens says.

“What does he even need a lab for?” Ronin asks. “Is he getting medical stuff?” Izuku, Chihiro, and Mittens look at him with a “you’re serious?” expression. “What?”

Before anyone could reply, the door opened, and Dabi and Frank entered.

“We got the flowers!” Frank announces as he enters. 

“And I’m sure you will all love it!” Dabi adds.

“Oh, welcome…” Izuku turns and stops, blinking slowly at them. “Back… Why am I not surprised?” What did he expect?

Well, certainly, he wasn’t expecting them to bring home a giant funeral wreath made of what seems to be Spider Lilies, Chrysanthemums, Hyacinths, Carnations, and Orchids.

Ronin looks at them with the biggest “kill me again” expression anyone ever saw.

“I won’t even question.” He says. “I’ll go back to trying to figure out how this thing works.” He turns back to the TV.

“Oh? Is technology too hard for you, old man?” Dabi asks, smirking, which sends Mittens into a laughing fit.

“See? I said it!” Mittens says. “You do sound like an old man!”

“Someone will end my suffering.” Ronin says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Can you even have migraines?” Izuku asks curiously.

“It’s the feeling that counts.” Ronin mumbles. “Anyway, Mittens, help me here. Izuku, your things are in your room.”

“Perfect!” Izuku says, grinning. “I’ll go decorate!”

Saying that Izuku goes to his room, fully intending to only leave when he has it decorated exactly as he wants to.

Chapter Text

“And then Dabi has the audacity to say, ‘Wasn’t I supposed to burn it?’ I warned him so many times. Don’t burn it, Dabi! And what did he do? He burned it. So, in the end, we lost the bonus.”

Shouta looks up from the essays he’s grading, raising an eyebrow at the green-haired gremlin sitting with his legs draped over the back of his couch. He’s been rambling nonstop about this contract for the last 20 minutes, and Shouta didn’t catch half of it.

“Okay.” Shouta says. “But what are you doing here?”

“Ronin’s orders.” Izuku shrugs. “Apparently, I spend too much time with the dead and need to make some ‘alive friends’ or something.”

“I don’t think I’m friend material for you.” Shouta replies, looking back at the papers.

“Frankly, I have my doubts whether you even count as alive.” Izuku says, and Shouta doesn’t even need to look to know the little shit is smirking at him. “I’m waiting for Hitoshi, though. I said I would help him decorate his room after he comes back from the mall with Yamada-San.”

“And I conclude you won’t leave me to work in peace until they come back.” Shouta deadpans.

“No dice, Eraser. I’m bored as hell right now.” Izuku says, grinning.

Shouta glares at the boy for a few moments, but the kid seems completely immune to it.

“Fine.” Shouta puts down the papers. “Since I’m obviously not going to get any work done, we might as well do something productive.” He looks at his phone. “They aren’t coming back for a few hours still.”

“How long can a mall trip take?” Izuku asks.

“You never went to the mall with Zashi.” Shouta says with a haunted expression. Flashbacks flowing through his mind.

“O… Kay.” Izuku says, looking slightly weirded out.

“Anyway. Come with me.” Shouta gets up and grabs his capture weapon. “If you want to grab a weapon, go now.”

“Alright.” Izuku says and runs to his apartment. A few moments later, he comes back holding a scythe.

Shouta has seen him holding it a few times already, but he never saw him using it. It’s not the most orthodox weapon.

“Do you know how to use this?” Shouta asks as they walk towards the roof. 

“Yup. I’m still training, but I’d say I don’t suck at it.” Izuku giggles. “Ronin is very harsh in his training.”

They get to the roof, and Shouta walks to the middle of it.

“Okay, show me what you can do.” He says.

“Alright.” Izuku nods and gets in position, holding the scythe with both hands. Maybe the scythe is just huge, or perhaps the kid is just tiny, but the weapon is almost twice his size. “Here I go.”

Saying that Izuku runs at Shouta, holding the weapon behind him. Despite the weight and size of the scythe, the boy is deceptively strong and really fast.

Izuku swings the weapon in a circular motion, aiming the back of the blade at Shouta’s waist, which forces him to jump to avoid it.

Shouta then sends a strand of his catch weapon to try to catch Izuku, but the boy jumps out of the way and swings his scythe at the strand, cutting it. Shouta didn’t expect the weapon to be that sharp. But before he could think more about it, Izuku was already at his face, swinging the butt of the scythe at his neck.

Shouta side steps out of the way and sends a kick that hits Izuku in the stomach. The kid flies backward but quickly recovers and goes back on the offensive, trying to keep Shouta constantly on the defensive. It’s a good strategy, but the kid is inexperienced and has a lot of openings. Openings Shouta knows how to exploit.

As Izuku tries to swing the scythe again, Shouta holds the weapon’s handle, immobilizing it in place, and then launches his capture weapon, trapping Izuku’s arms, which forces him to drop it. Shouta takes the chance to completely immobilize him.

“If your opponent is taller and stronger than you, be sure they don't manage to grab you or your weapon.” Shouta says.

“Understood.” Izuku replies, pouting at being caught but with determination in his dead eyes.

Shouta is very impressed, though. The boy is inexperienced and not very strong, but that’s to be expected from someone so young. Still, at such young age, this kid has a lot more potential than half of Shouta’s first years.

“Again.” Shouta says, and Izuku nods, getting up and reading his weapon.

“Here I go!” Izuku says and rushes at Shouta again.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

God, Izuku is tired. Aizawa is almost as much of a slave driver as Ronin. Still, training with him was really fun.

But now, as Izuku helps Hitoshi set up his cat sanctuary - sorry, his room - he’s starting to feel his muscles aching from all the training.

“How long did you two spend training?” Hitoshi asks as he sticks his Wild Wild Pussycats’ poster on the wall.

“A few hours?” Izuku replies, internally smiling at Hitoshi, finally feeling comfortable enough to ask him questions. “How long did you two spend in the mall?”

Hitoshi looks at him with a haunted expression.

“Twelve hours.” He says. “God, I’ll never do this again. Yamada is worse than a rich girl with a limitless credit card. Now I get why Aizawa didn’t want to come too.”

“Yeah, he might have mentioned something about it.” Izuku says, stretching his shoulders. “But god, Aizawa is harsh.”

“Who’s worse, Aizawa or Ronin?” Hitoshi asks, smirking.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Izuku replies. “They are both very strict teachers in their own manner. Well, I guess since Ronin is training me to stay alive, he is harsher with his training.”

“Hmm. Makes sense.” Hitoshi nods. “And done.” He looks around the room. “What do you think?”

“Looks great, Hito.” Izuku smiles. “I’m sure Mittens would love this place.”

“And tease me mercilessly.” Hitoshi sighs. “Your cat is a gremlin.”

“Every cat is.” Izuku replies. “The difference is that Mittens is smart like a human. Actually, I think she’s smarter.”

“She probably is.” Hitoshi nods. “I wonder what her IQ is.”

“Who knows?” Izuku shrugs. “So, wanna hang out or something?”

“I guess.” Hitoshi shrugs. “But what can we do?”

“Don’t know.” Izuku replies. “I might have something in my apartment, though.”

“Good enough.” Hitoshi replies. “Let’s go.”

Izuku grins, and the two of them go back to Izuku’s apartment. Hitoshi raises an eyebrow at the funeral wreath hanging right above the entrance door but doesn’t question it. As they walk in, they find Frank leaving the kitchen with a bag of those Jalapeno chips he likes for some reason.

“Oh, hey there, kiddos.” He waves at them. “How are you two?”

“Good/Sore.” Hitoshi and Izuku reply at the same time.

“Sore? Did you have training today?” Frank asks, looking up as he tries to remember Izuku’s training schedule.

“Not really, but I got to train a bit with Aizawa.” Izuku says. “He’s as harsh as Ronin.”

“I see.” Frank nods, then he gives them a grin. “Well, luckily for you, I have the perfect medicine for that.” He says and starts nudging both of them. “Come to my lab, please.”

“He has a lab?” Hitoshi mutters to Izuku as they walk.

They soon find themselves in front of a door with a “keep out” sign and several biohazard warning symbols on it. There is also a sign that reads “Dr. Frank N. Stein’s L.A.B.”

“Welcome to my lab.” Frank says, opening his door and nudging them inside. Izuku hasn’t been inside yet, but he helped Frank design it. And he’s sure it’s not what Hitoshi is expecting.

Because this “lab” is basically what every gamer would call their dream room.

(Because I’m terrible at describing scenarios and too lazy to even try, here is a picture of how I imagine Frank’s lab.)

“Wow.” Hitoshi says. “I expected a doctor’s office, not paradise.”

“Glad you like it.” Frank says and gives Hitoshi a key. “You’re welcome any time. Just never let the old man in.” He winks and pushes each one into a very comfy gaming chair. “As for your sore muscles.” He turns to Izuku, pressing a hand to his shoulders, and immediately Izuku feels all the pain leaving his body and sighs in relief. “The doctor prescribes leisure, relaxation.” He turns around and turns on the screens. “And Minecraft.”

“Frank. You’re not a do-” Izuku starts.

“Shh.” Hitoshi interrupts. “Don’t argue with the doctor, Izuku.”

“Yup, don’t argue with the doctor.” Frank says. “Now. Go build, and have fun!”

A few hours later, Izuku, Hitoshi, and Frank built a giant replica of the Roman Colosseum. They intend to build all of the seven new wonders of the world, but this is a long-time project.

Also, Izuku watches with no small amount of amusement as Hitoshi and Frank start talking about their favorite streamers and start arranging to stream as well.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Hizashi is very excited about this. He’ll be teaching his Zombie Little Listener how to cook today. He rarely has this opportunity! Hmm. Maybe he should start a cooking segment on his radio. That would be amazing.

Still, everyone seems sure he can’t teach Izuku how to cook. That makes no sense. Everyone can learn how to cook. Cooking is easy!

He frowns slightly as he steps into Izuku’s apartment and sees the kitchen.

“That’s the smallest kitchen I ever saw in my life.” Hizashi says.

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons this place was so hard to rent.” Izuku says. “The apartment is big, so most of the people interested were families. But the kitchen is too small.”

“Makes sense.” Hizashi replies. “Well, it’s not much, but we can work with this.” He smiles at Izuku. “I’ll teach you how to make Tonkatsu. It’s simple and delicious.” He claps once and starts gathering the materials. “Why don’t we start with cutting the pork.”

“Okay!” Izuku says excitedly as he pulls a stepping stool and grabs a knife.

“Alright.” Hizashi carefully guides his hand showing him the right way to cut it. “Keep your hand firm, don’t force it. Let the knife do the work.” He nods as Izuku seems to be doing well and turns around to grab the flour. “Okay, now we-”

“Argh!” Hizashi turns around and sees Izuku clutching his bleeding finger. “Damn fragile skin. The knife barely touched me.”

“Oh, heavens!” Hizashi runs to Izuku and pulls him to the living room to bandage his finger. A few minutes later, they go back to the kitchen. “Okay, I guess it’s better if you leave the cutting to m- WHAT IS THAT!?!?!?” He screams when he looks at the pork wiggling around at the kitchen sink.

“Oh, shit.” Izuku mumbles and stabs the pork with the knife. “Sorry, I guess my blood touched the meat.” He says. “I’ll ask Dabi to dispose of this.” He says and starts walking away, carrying the meat still wiggling in the knife.

Hizashi blinks a few times at the frankly terrifying scene and looks back to the kitchen.

“I think we should try something else.” He mutters to himself. “Something that doesn’t include knives or meat…”

A few minutes later, they are both back in the kitchen, this time with another set of ingredients.

“Okay, Zombie Listener. Let’s try something else. This time without knives or meat.” Hizashi says. “How about baking a cake?”

“It should be easier.” Izuku nods. “Let’s do it!”

“That’s the spirit!” Hizashi grins. “Okay. Let’s start with beating the eggs.”

Baking is easy. Nothing can go wrong!

…

Everything went wrong…

Hizashi sighs as he looks at the kitchen, now covered in flour and eggs. How did this even happen? The cake didn’t even get to the oven.

“Sorry.” Izuku says with a sigh.

“It’s okay. Accidents happen.” Hizashi says, running his hand through his flour-covered hair. “Okay, let’s clean this mess…”

It takes them about half an hour to clean everything up. Then Hizashi spends a few more minutes trying to come up with something else.

“I know!” He snaps his fingers. “Something impossible to get wrong. Instant noodles!”

It’s perfect! It’s literally just boiling water, then throwing the noodles in. It’s impossible to get it wrong!

…

“Are you sure you’re not doing this on purpose?” Hizashi asks, looking at the disaster in front of him.

The dry noodles are completely burnt, and the water is still cold. How can this happen?

“I guess I’m just a lost cause.” Izuku sighs. “Thank you for trying, though.”

“I’m not giving up just yet.” Hizashi says determinedly. “There has to be something you can cook!”

Hizashi is not one to give up. He’s sure Izuku can learn how to cook.

(For the rest of the day, they kept trying different things, but all of them ended in disaster. In the end, even Hizashi has to give up. Still, he intimates Izuku to have dinner with them every night. Just because he can’t teach Izuku to cook doesn’t mean he will let Little Zombie Listener go hungry.)

Chapter Text

Today is a big day, and Dabi will make sure it is special. Why? Simple, today is Izuku’s birthday. A day that for Izuku has not been very special since he turned four. Between his abusive parents and the time they spent building the Necromancer’s reputation, Izuku hasn’t had a real birthday party in five years.

And that’s something all the zombies have decided to remedy. They made plans last night while Izuku was sleeping. All that was needed was to find a way to get Izuku out of the apartment while Ronin and Chihiro prepared everything. Of course, they enlisted the help of Aizawa and Yamada.

The team was all gathered inside Mittens’ office, discussing the plan. Yamada is the most excited about the plan, while Aizawa clutches a coffee mug like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

“I understand the plan.” Aizawa says. “But why are we here at 5 AM?”

“Because Izuku is the very definition of an early bird.” Dabi replies. “Unless he has come from a night mission, he always wakes up at 6 AM at the latest.”

“Which means we have less than an hour to make the plan.” Ronin adds. “We need to find a way to get him out of the house. But he can’t suspect it.”

“This might be easier than you think.” Katashi says. “I mean, he never mentioned his birthday approaching. I think he forgot.”

“That’s probably what happened.” Dabi says. “Izuku doesn’t really think his birthday is a special date. So, even though his birthday is right after two others -” He points to Yamada. While Hitoshi would have wanted to be here, he’s having a sleepover in Izuku’s room, so they decided to let him sleep. “He probably forgot his own.” 

“In this case, we can take him somewhere.” Katashi says. “But where?”

“Oh. I know!” Yamada says. “There’s an arcade not very far from here. Hitoshi mentioned it the other day.” He frowns. “He also mentioned he has never been to one.”

“Same with Izuku.” Frank says. “We talked the other day while he was at my lab.”

“Why was he in your lab? Did he get hurt?” Ronin asks.

“He said he has never been to an arcade since he didn’t have friends at school..” Frank waves him off. “And his parents ‘wouldn’t waste money on him.’” He turns to Aizawa. “Can’t we just kill them?”

“Too much paperwork.” Aizawa says. “They are already being charged with child abuse and abandonment. A friend of mine, a detective, is personally handling the case, so I can assure you they won’t escape justice.”

“Fine, but they better hope I never meet them.” Frank grumbles. “Anyway. The arcade is actually a great choice.”

“Ok. Katashi and Dabi, you two are going to take Izuku and Hitoshi to the arcade.” Ronin says. “The rest will organize everything.”

“Why only them?” Frank asks, pouting.

“Because you and Dabi are the ones who can suggest the arcade without Izuku suspecting anything.” Ronin says. “And they’ll need adult supervision. You don’t count as adult supervision, Frank.”

“Meanie.” Frank grumbles. “Fine. So you want me to help decorate?”

“Gods, no.” Chihiro chuckles. “You and Mittens are on shopping duty. Ronin and I will decorate.”

“And we asked Yamada’s help because I’m sure he remembers the kitchen incident.” Ronin adds. “Well, we aren’t any better than Izuku.”

“Leave it to me, Listeners.” Yamada replies. “I’ll bake the best cake the Zombie Listener ever had. Does he have any preferences?”

“Sweet.” Dabi says.

“Very sweet.” Ronin adds.

“Diabetes-causing.” Frank nods.

“I think you can’t go wrong with Chocolate.” Chihiro says.

“Got it.” Yamada says, grinning. “I think I have everything I need to bake the cake. Help me check, Shou?”

“Sure.” Aizawa mutters, downing what’s left of his coffee.

“Ok, we have the plan.” Ronin says. “Let’s all make this the best birthday of Izuku’s life.”

Everyone cheers with him. Even Aizawa raises an arm.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Izuku is intrigued and excited at the same time. He’s never been to an arcade before, and from what he knows, neither has Hitoshi. And wow, isn’t that a foreign concept? Not only is he going to an arcade, but he’s going with a friend. 

No, Dabi and Katashi don’t count. Izuku sees Dabi as an older brother, and Katashi is like a fun uncle. Hitoshi is his first friend in so many years.

Izuku’s eyes widen as he enters the arcade. He has passed the arcade close to his old school many times, but he never entered it. The place looks much bigger inside, and there are games everywhere. Izuku doesn’t even know where to start.

Thankfully, he has two guides who seem to know how this works. Katashi and Dabi gesture towards a machine where they put a few bills and take tokens for the games. Then they start showing Izuku and Hitoshi around. There are so many games to try.

Hitoshi and Dabi find an Air Hockey game, and their competitive spirits are instantly ignited. In less than a minute, they are in a superheated game. So heated that Izuku wonders if Dabi isn’t accidentally using his quirk.

Shrugging, Izuku and Katashi look for something else to play, and a few minutes later, they find a punching ball game.

“How does this work?” Izuku asks, eyeing the punching bag.

Katashi looks at it and inserts a token.

“Simple, give it your manliest punch.” He says.

Izuku eyes the machine for a few seconds, then throws a punch. The numbers rise and stop at 217.

“Guess I’m not very strong.” Izuku says.

“There’s a lot of technique involved as well.” Katashi replies. “To punch harder, you’ll want to add your weight to the punch. If possible, picking up momentum also helps. Remember the stance Ronin taught you? Use it.”

Izuku nods and takes a boxing stance as Katashi adds another token to the machine. He takes a step back and prepares.

“Ok. Momentum, stance, weight.” He mumbles.

“All ready.” Katashi says.

Izuku nods and takes a running start towards the punching bag, then he stomps on the floor and throws a punch, spinning his body to add weight to it. The punch hits the bag, and Izuku watches with a hitched breath as the numbers rise. 521.

“Wow.” This is more than twice his first score. “That’s amazing!”

“See? I knew you could do it.” Katashi says with a proud smile. “You’re so manly.”

“What about you? I want to see you doing it.” Izuku asks, giving his best puppy eyes. He knows his dull eyes make it a lot less effective, but it seems to work just fine on his zombies.

“Don’t need to give me puppy eyes.” Katashi laughs. “I’ll try.” He puts another token and takes a stance similar to the one Izuku used.

Katashi steps on the floor so hard that the sound echoes despite all the noise inside the arcade, and Izuku hears a loud boom as his fist connects with the punching bag. The numbers quickly rise to 999, the machine’s limit.

A NEW RECORD!!!

The machine announces, and Izuku jumps excitedly.

“That’s a manly punch!” Katashi says proudly.

“Amazing!” Izuku says, running to Katashi.

“Glad you like it.” Katashi says, now, let’s try another game?

Izuku nods so quickly that he almost gets whiplash.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Meanwhile, at the apartment, Chihiro and Ronin are working nonstop to decorate the house. Chihiro is hanging the balloons while Ronin fills them.

“Are they still there?” Ronin asks.

“Yup. They are all in the arcade.” Chihiro says. “I hope they are having fun.”

“Me too.” Ronin replies. “It’s so rare for Izuku to be able to act his age. It’s not fair.”

“I’m the newest one here, so I don’t know much about him.” Chihiro says.

“There’s not much to say. His mother was a cheating bastard, and she blamed Izuku when her husband discovered her infidelity.” Ronin explains. “And at school, he was bullied because of his quirk. His father is an abusive asshole who dropped him in a forest to be killed by wolves. All that when he was just six.”

Chihiro nods, turning back to the balloons she’s hanging.

“It’s surprising he can still trust people after all he went through.” She says. “Most people would want vengeance.”

“Yeah. But Izuku doesn’t have a single mean bone in his body.” Ronin chuckles. “I don’t know how anyone could call him a villain.”

“We are biased.” Chihiro replies. “And people are bigots.”

“I guess you’re right.” Ronin says. “We can’t change people’s minds.”

“Yeah, but there’s something we can do.” Chihiro replies, smiling. “We can make sure he has the best birthday he ever had.”

“We completely agree on this.” Ronin nods. “So, back to work. There’s a lot to do.”

“Aye, captain!” Chihiro replies, and they go back to decorating.

Everything needs to be perfect.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Izuku finds Hitoshi leaning against a machine, looking at something on his cell phone. Near him, there is music playing and a small crowd watching something. With his curiosity piqued, Izuku approaches.

“Hey, Toshi. What’s happening?”

“Look for yourself.” Hitoshi says, pointing to the crowd.

Izuku takes a step forward and sees what the crowd is looking at. A game called Dance Dance Revolution, which, as the name implies, is a dancing game. And the one dancing at speeds that Izuku didn’t even know were possible is Dabi. He’s dancing to a piano song called Rush E.

“How’s that possible?” Izuku asks.

Hitoshi shrugs.

“Don’t know. Maybe it’s because he’s too light?” He says. “I mean, he’s literally just bones. Found it!”

“What are you doing?” Izuku asks, glancing over Hitoshi’s shoulder at his phone.

“Ordering the DDR game for home.” Hitoshi explains. “I’m not sure yet if I’m gonna set it up in the LAB or my own room.”

“Why?” Izuku asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Practice.” Hitoshi replies. “Dabi completely kicked my ass in this game.”

“Ok… And why not the LAB?” Izuku asks.

Hitoshi lowers his phone and looks at Izuku with a manic competitive gleam in his eyes. Then he points back to Dabi.

“And let this Skeletal jackass get even more practice? No thanks. I’m defeating him next time we play.” He says.

“Alright.” Izuku shrugs. “Well, this looks fun. I’ll try it.”

Then he steps over just as Dabi is finishing his song.

“Hey, Izu. Wanna try?” He asks as he starts the next song. A song called Valkyrie Dimension. “I’ll go easy on you.” He says with a wink.

Izuku still doesn’t know how he can always tell Dabi’s expressions.

“Don’t worry about me.” Izuku replies, grinning as he tests the game. “Ok, I’m ready.”

Dabi nods and starts the song .

“So, I just follow the arrows, right?” Izuku confirms.

“Exactly.” Dabi says. “Don’t be too disgruntled if you don’t do very well. It’s a hard game.”

Izuku shrugs and starts following the dance. And immediately, everyone’s jaw drops. The song has a little over two minutes, and by the end of it, Izuku has a perfect score. Dabi also did very well but missed two arrows, so Izuku won.

“What the hell?” Hitoshi, who saw everything, says.

“How!? I thought it was your first time playing.” Dabi asks in surprise.

“It is.” Izuku shrugs. “But it’s just reaction time and following patterns. It’s not that hard.”

“Again!” Dabi says. “Let’s play again.”

“Alright.” Izuku accepts and waits for Dabi to put on the next song. One called Over The “Period.”

“I won’t lose again.” Dabi says and starts the song .

To his dismay, the last song wasn’t just beginner’s luck. Again, Izuku ends with a perfect score, while Dabi misses a single arrow during the music, so Izuku wins again.

After they finish the song, they see Katashi approaching with his phone in his hands.

“Hey guys, ready to go home?” He asks.

“I guess.” Dabi says with a nonchalant shrug, but Izuku can hear the pout in his voice and has to hold himself not to laugh. “I’m tired anyway. Guess I can’t dance as well as usual.”

“Tired?” Izuku asks, raising an eyebrow. “But you have infinite stamina.”

“As I said. I’m tired , so let’s go home.” Dabi replies, which makes Izuku and Hitoshi laugh.

“Ok, ok. You’re tired.” Izuku says. “Let’s go home.” He follows Katashi.

As they are leaving, Katashi looks at Izuku.

“So, did you have fun?” He asks.

“Yes! It was so much fun. Thank you for bringing us here.” Izuku replies.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Katashi replies. 

They go back to the apartment, and just before entering, Dabi puts a bony hand over Izuku’s eyes.

“Close your eyes, Green Bean. We have one last surprise for you today.” He says.

“A surprise? Why?” He asks.

“You’ll see.” Dabi says.

Izuku sighs and does as Dabi said. Dabi guides Izuku inside. The apartment is unusually quiet, which is very suspicious. Usually, he would at least be hearing Mittens working inside her office.

“Ok, what’s happening?” Izuku asks.

“Well, Green Bean.” Dabi says and pulls his hand away from Izuku’s eyes.

“ HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! ”

Izuku almost falls back in surprise as he takes everything in. The living room is decorated with lots of balloons, and there’s confetti flying everywhere. Izuku looks at each of them with his mouth agape, then at the chocolate cake on the table. Then he pulls out his phone and checks the date.

It’s July 15th. Today is his birthday. When was the last time someone did something that nice for him on his birthday? Ever since he was four, this day has been nothing more than a reminder that he’s a mistake. That he’s the result of his mother’s infidelity.

He remembers his 5th birthday. Hisashi almost killed him that day, but nothing hurt more than his mother’s words that day. “You should have never been born.”

Yet, here are all the people he loves. And they came together to make him see this day as a special day again. It’s too much. Izuku can feel the tears starting to fall from his eyes. And at the same time, he can feel the grin stretching his face.

“I love you guys.” Izuku says. “Thank you.”

Dabi gives him a nudge forward, and they all fall into a group hug. Not even Aizawa has the heart to deny it. Izuku had never felt so happy in his life. All this time, he’s been missing his family, but now he gets it. This is his family. A family made of 6 zombies, an insomniac kid, a loud blond, and a tired underground hero.

They are a weird family, but to Izuku, they are perfect.

Chapter Text

If you ask anyone, Guildmaster Star is a sly fox in human skin. The old man cares about nothing but the guild and will do absolutely anything to ensure that the guild always comes out on top. Everyone avoids him like the plague. With that in mind, how the hell did Izuku end up having tea with him every Friday night?

Izuku is probably the first person in many years to get to know Star’s human side. Now, everything said above about Star is the purest truth, and Izuku will be the first to confirm it. However, while it is true that Star will always try to come out on top, one fact is that the man is just. His deals always result in victory for both sides. And he knows how to cultivate good relations.

Maybe it’s his quirk, which makes him always know who is worth being on good terms with. Or maybe Izuku reminds him of somebody he used to know. Whatever the reason is, Izuku is much closer to the Guildmaster than anyone in the guild, and as such, he knows more about the old man than most.

For instance, he’s currently 78 years old, and his birthday is February 29th. His favorite tea is white tea. He likes to play chess because it’s the game where he can put his analysis to use. He loves dramatics, which is why his movements and expressions are so exaggerated most of the time. He cares more about the guild’s reputation and power than money. And he’s very interested in Izuku.

Which brings them to this Friday night. Izuku and Star are having their usual tea party and enjoying a nice chess game. Izuku has yet to win a game, but he’s improving fast, and even when he loses, he still has fun.

“Checkmate.” Star says.

“And this makes 38 to 0.” Izuku says with a dry laugh. “Either you’re too good, or I’m too bad.”

“You are improving very quickly.” Star replies. “I can give you some pointers.”

“I would rather you explain this contract I found in my pile.” Izuku replies, pulling the paper and laying it on the table. “The objective is simple, and the payment is great. But why is there no client?”

“Oh? I forgot to explain about those? Sorry about that. I think age is starting to get to me.” Star chuckles. “This contract was put on by a VIP. Those are clients who pay a hefty sum to stay anonymous. All negotiations with them are handled by myself.”

“Am I safe to take those contracts?” Izuku asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I can assure you they don’t hold any more power than regular clients.” Star replies. “The only difference between regular and VIP clients is the extra anonymity. VIP clients are mostly the ones who ask for assassinations or important information theft.”

“I see.” Izuku looks back at the paper. “In this case, I’ll accept this one.”

“I imagined this would be the case.” Star smiles. “You can bring the information straight to me, and I’ll have your reward.”

“Alright.” Izuku nods and then looks back to the chessboard. “Now, about those pointers you spoke of?”

“Well, there’s a lot of things you can do.” He points to the board. “For starters, you aren’t using your knights well…”

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

With the distraction team, consisting of Dabi, Frank, and Mittens, doing what they do best, Izuku enters through the window. Ronin, Chihiro, and Katashi entered through different windows.

Izuku finds himself inside a huge, practically empty office. Just like everything else in Endeavor’s agency. Seriously, what is this guy’s deal with big things? Is he trying to compensate for something?

Shaking his head, Izuku starts looking for the documents he needs to steal. Years of incidents with collateral damage and civilian casualties that Endeavor has used his money and status to cover up.

“If I were a pile of highly incriminating documents, where would I be?” Izuku asks himself.

“There’s a vault behind Endeavor’s giant portrait.” Izuku walks to the wall and moves the portrait out of the way, finding the safe. “The code is 489235.”

Izuku puts on the code and opens it, finding a huge pile with all kinds of documents inside. Then just as he’s about to grab it, he realizes what just happened and turns around. There’s a boy sitting at the giant chair - really, Endeavor is definitely trying to compensate for something - with his feet over the table and playing on a handheld console.

The boy has half-red, half-white hair and a big scar over his left eye, which covers a good part of his face. And he doesn’t seem to mind Izuku being there at all.

“Er… Hi?” Izuku says.

“Hello. Are you an assassin?” The boy asks. “Are you here to kill my father?”

“Er… No. I’m not here to kill anyone.” Izuku replies. “I’m Necromancer, a mercenary. I’m just here to steal these papers.”

“Oh…” The boy looks very disappointed that Izuku isn’t here to kill his father. “Are you sure you don’t want to kill Endeavor?”

This boy is Endeavor’s son? And he wants Izuku to kill his father? What the fuck is happening here?

“Assassinations are very expensive.” Izuku says. “Especially hero assassinations, and even more someone as powerful as Endeavor.”

The boy puts his game at the desk and gets up, searching over his pockets. He pulls a coin out.

“I have 100 yen.” Then he pulls out a pack of sandwich cookies. “And a pack of Oreos.”

“That’s not enough.” Izuku says, and the boy’s dejected expression makes him feel bad. “But for that, I can trip him while he walks.” He taps his chin a few times. “And if you tell me your name, I’ll do it while he’s in public.” 

“Deal.” He gives Izuku the Oreos and the coin. “My name is Todoroki Shouto.”

“Well, Shouto.” Izuku says with a smile. It’s evident from the clear distaste he has for his father that the kid doesn’t like to be called Todoroki. “If we meet again, maybe I can tell you my true name.” He winks and starts walking to the window after gathering all the papers. “Until then.” He puts a finger at his lips in a sign of silence, then jumps out the window. “I got the goods.” He says in his comms. “Distraction team, time to escape. The others meet me up in front of the agency.”

“Alright.” Ronin says.

“Okie dokie.” Dabi says. “Time for a smoke screen.”

The moment he says this, Izuku hears an explosion.

Shaking his head, Izuku moves to the meeting point. He sees a vending machine close, so he uses the 100 yen Shouto gave him to buy a drink and starts eating the Oreos as Ronin approaches.

“Where did you get those?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and taking one when Izuku offers.

“Payment in advance for an extra job.” Izuku shrugs. “Oh, there’s my target, here, hold this.” He gives the folders with all the documents they stole to Ronin as he sees Endeavor leaving the agency.

The front of the agency is on fire, and the firefighters are already trying to control it. Now’s the time.

Izuku pulls down his hoodie and starts playing the panicking child while he runs towards the agency.

“Mom? Mom, where are you?” He screams as he walks. 

Endeavor being the jerk he is, just ignores him, but the moment he passes by Izuku, the green-haired boy quickly sweeps his feet, which, thanks to the wet floor, is enough to make Endeavor slip and fall face-first on the floor.

Thanks to the fire, a lot of people are recording it, and thanks to it, less than an hour later, the video of Endeavor falling is trending all over social media. Izuku, of course, made sure to be in a blind spot, so no cameras could record his face. 

Mission accomplished.

Smirking to himself, Izuku walks back to the rest of his team, and they all fall back. Back at the guild, Izuku delivers the documents and gets his reward. This is the best-paying job he did to this day, and his other jobs didn’t pay badly. He’ll keep an eye out for other VIP contracts in the future. Those pay very well.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Star walks to the secret meeting room with a folder containing incriminating documents about the number two hero. Necromancer and his zombie party never cease to impress him. It’s like no job is too hard for the kid, and he’s only 9. Star can only imagine how incredible he’ll be in a few years.

Shaking his head, Star puts on his business smile and enters. His VIP client is already inside, enjoying a nice cup of tea. His white ears twitch as he hears Star’s footsteps, and his bead eyes instantly are at him.

“Hello, Guildmaster. Am I a mouse? A dog? A bear? I’m the Principal.” He says. “And more importantly, do you have what I asked?”

“Hello, Mr. Principal.” Star replies. “There you go.” He slides the folder over the table and starts pouring himself a cup of white tea.

Nedzu opens the folder and starts examining it. Then he starts cackling.

“That’s amazing. This Necromancer is even better than you said.” He says.

“I told you.” Star chuckles. “Though, if you could indulge this old man. Could you perhaps answer a question?”

“No need to be so formal, Star.” Nedzu replies. “We are friends, after all.”

“You know how I am, Nedzu.” Star shrugs. “But anyway. Do you think a mercenary could become a hero?”

“Oh? That’s an interesting question.” Nedzu replies. “I don’t see why not. Is this about Necromancer?”

“The kid has a truly heroic heart.” Star says. “And more potential than 90% of the heroes I ever met. Even Eraserhead seems to agree.”

“I want to meet him. But Eraserhead has been very tight-lipped about him.” Nedzu chuckles. “But that’s not a problem for me. I’ll eventually meet him. And if he wants to be a hero, I’d certainly help him. The Limelights might not accept him, but the Underground will.”

“Agreed.” Star nods. “So, I know you’re a busy person, but care for a game before leaving?” He points to the chessboard.

“I thought you would never ask.” Nedzu replies. “You’re one of my favorite opponents.”

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Shit, this shouldn’t be happening. It was supposed to be just a normal patrol. Everything was going well. 

Shouta was jumping across the rooftops when he heard shouting. Two groups were pointing guns at each other, apparently an argument between gangs or something. The important thing is that they were on the verge of attacking each other, so Shouta jumped to stop them.

However, the moment they saw him, they all immediately started attacking him. And that was the moment Shouta realized that they all have mutation quirks and clearly know how Eraserhead fights. He fell into an ambush.

Shouta is used to setting ambushes, not falling into them. He’s at a serious disadvantage fighting so many people at the same time. There are at least 10 mutant quirks, and more are arriving by the second. He has no escape route, either.

Shouta is literally fighting for his life at the moment, and he’s not exactly winning. He managed to knock out a good chunk of the thugs, but more and more keep appearing, and he’s starting to slow down.

“Heh, looks like this is the end of the great Eraserhead.” A man with an obvious bear mutation says, walking to Shouta with his sharp claws on display. Shouta tries to lunge at him, but the man dodges and digs his claws into Shouta’s chest. “Goodbye, Eraserhead.” Then he pulls his claws away, tearing through Shouta’s flesh.

Shouta falls to his knees, trying to hold the bleeding as the man walks away. Shit, he can’t die like this. He’s leaving so many people behind.

Zashi… Hito… Izu… I’m sorry.

Shouta hears screams, and suddenly the air around him heats, but he can barely process what’s happening.

“Get back here, you cowards!” This voice is familiar. Who’s that?

His consciousness is beginning to fade from the loss of blood. Shouta barely feels any pain, but it is as if the world is losing its color. The only thing he sees is red.

“Shit! Dabi, how long until Frank gets here?” Another familiar voice calls.

Shouta feels himself being turned around and someone applying pressure to his chest.

“He’s 20 minutes away.” The first voice replies.

“Fuck! We don’t have 20 minutes.” Shouta opens his eyes and sees a pair of green eyes tearfully looking at him.

“Izu…” He says.

“Don’t talk, Aizawa. You’ll be fine.” Izuku says. “Hold on a little more. Don’t die on me…”

That’s impossible, Shouta can’t keep himself awake anymore, and he’s sure Izuku knows it.

“I’m… Sorry…” Shouta says as his eyes get heavier and heavier.

“No. NO! YOU CAN’T DIE, OK?” Izuku replies. “Hito needs you. Yamada needs you. I NEED YOU, AIZAWA.” He feels the kid’s tears falling on his face, but he can’t keep his eyes open. He just feels so tired. “NO! Stay awake, Aizawa! Aizawa!” The last thing he hears before everything goes dark is Izuku’s desperate words. “ AIZAWA!”

Chapter Text

Izuku is panicking, and he’s not one to panic often. But what can he do? Aizawa is about to die in front of him, and there’s nothing he can do. He doesn’t want to let Aizawa die, but Frank won’t get here on time.

“Aizawa, please stay with us.” His tears are falling non-stop, soaking Aizawa’s face, but the man doesn’t react. Izuku can feel his pulse getting weaker by the second. “No, please. I won’t let you go like this.”

Izuku knows what he has to do. He really hopes Aizawa will forgive him for that. He keeps his hand pressed against Aizawa’s neck, feeling his pulse, and as soon as it stops, Izuku pulls his knife.

“Dabi, keep us safe.” Izuku says.

“Understood.” Dabi replies. The lack of a joke only shows how serious the situation is.

Izuku puts his hand above Aizawa and makes a cut in his wrist with a bit more force than needed. His blood falls like a faucet soaking Aizawa’s body and clothes.

“C’mon, Aizawa. Come back to us.” Izuku says, sounding almost like a prayer.

And maybe he really is praying. Praying that what happened to Chihiro was not a fluke. Because bringing Aizawa back but with no memory seems crueler than letting the man die. No, this can’t happen. This has to work.

“Wake up, Aizawa. WAKE UP!” Izuku says, pressing his fingers against his palm. The blood falls even faster.

Aizawa’s wounds start closing until there’s nothing left of them. A few seconds later, the man opens his eyes. Izuku looks at him, his eyes filled with anticipation.

“Izuku?” Aizawa asks. “Am I…”

“You’re back.” Izuku says, smiling. “You’re back!”

Aizawa notices Izuku’s bleeding wrist and his blood-soaked clothes. It only takes a second to put two and two together.

“Izuku, did you…?” Before he can say anything, Izuku stumbles and falls forward.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Shouta rushes to hold Izuku as the kid falls forward. He looks even paler than usual. His wrist is still bleeding. Usually, it would have already stopped.

“Damn, Izuku. How deep did you cut?” Shouta says as he presses his capture weapon to try to stop the bleeding.

“I got most of the guys.” Dabi says as he approaches. “How’s Aiza- What the hell?”

“Not the time. We need to rush.” Shouta says, holding Izuku in his arms. His capture weapon is tightly wrapped around his wrist.

Shouta starts running, and Dabi follows him.

“So, I guess you’re one of us now.” Dabi says, sprinting behind Shouta. “How are your memories?”

“I think it’s everything here.” Shouta replies. “I can’t remember what I had for dinner tonight. But I don’t think I forgot anything important.”

“Okay, let’s go through the main street. Frank will meet us on the way.” Dabi says. “So let’s speed up.” 

“I’m already running at my maximum speed.” Shouta says, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you’re not.” Dabi replies. “You can push past your living limits now. Just try.”

Shouta nods and does as he said. To his surprise, Dabi is correct. He can exceed his limits without even breaking a sweat. Two streets ahead, they find Frank, who takes a glance at Aizawa and understands what happened.

“Sorry for your death.” He says. “How’s Izuku?”

“A mess.” Shouta replies. “I died in front of him. He cut too deep.”

“Okay. Leave it to me.” Frank says, and Shouta sets the kid on the floor.

Frank immediately goes to work, healing the cut on Izuku’s wrist. Meanwhile, Shouta grabs his phone and calls Hizashi. The call barely rings twice before Hizashi answers.

“Shou? Did something happen?” He asks.

“I have good and bad news.” Shouta says.

“I don’t like this game, Shouta.” Zashi replies. “What’s the bad news?”

“I’ve been caught in an ambush.” Shouta says. “Dozens of villains with mutations. The leader had a bear mutation. He got me.”

“What? Shou…” Zashi says. “You don’t sound wounded…”

“Izuku found me…” Shouta says.

Hizashi stays silent for several seconds. So much so that Shouta has to check that the call didn’t drop.

“Shou… Please tell me you’re not saying what I think you’re saying.” Zashi pleads.

“I died, Zashi.” Shouta says. “I’m a zombie now.”

“Oh, God.” Zashi chokes. “It’s okay, Hito. He’s fine.” Shouta hears his husband reassuring their son. “Shou, where are you?”

“I’ll be back soon, Zashi.” Shouta says. “I’ve just met with Frank. He’s helping Izuku. He’s fine, but he overdid it when reanimating me.”

“Fine, I’ll be waiting for you.” Zashi says. “But Shou. Don’t think you’ll get rid of me just because you’re dead.”

“Not even death will do us apart.” Shouta says.

“Not even death.” Zashi replies. “See you soon.”

Hanging the call, Shouta goes back to where Frank, Dabi, and Izuku are. Izuku is still unconscious.

“How is he?” Shouta asks.

“He’s fine.” Frank says. “He’s just exhausted.”

“That’s good.” Shouta says.

“Well, we should go back.” Dabi says. “We aren’t very far from where you were ambushed, the police won’t take too long to get there, and I’d rather not have to explain what happened.”

“Fair.” Shouta pulls Izuku in his arms and starts walking away. “What happened to them?”

“Most ran away as soon as I started to burn everything.” Dabi replies. “The leader escaped.”

“I’ll have to find them later.” Shouta sighs. “I won’t let them escape.”

“Oh. We have a vengeful spirit in the area.” Frank laughs.

“Shut up.” Shouta grumbles.

“So, what should we call you?” Dabi says as they walk.

“What do you mean?” Shouta asks.

“Arsonist.” Dabi points to himself. “Fixer.” He points to Frank. “Fighter, Barbarian, Artificer, Ranger. You’re a zombie now. You need a class.”

“No!” Shouta says.

“Well, the obvious choice would be Rogue.” Frank says.

“I mean, true. But also, did you see his sleeping bag? He looks like a caterpillar.” Dabi points. “I vote Druid.”

Shouta just sighs and keeps walking.

…

Shouta looks at the warehouse. It has been a few weeks since his zombification, and since then, he has been working on searching for the villains who killed him. He discovered that they were part of a group calling themselves The Beast Union. A stupid name, but they are a gang where all the members have mutation quirk and are involved in various crimes. Well, it’s time to make an arrest.

Usually, Shouta would enter from the roof and try to set an ambush, but there’s no use in doing that this time. So instead, he walks in by the front door. The thing about this warehouse is that there’s only one exit unless you can fly. And Shouta knows that the only flying member they had was burned to a crisp by Dabi.

Shouta cracks his fingers and then kicks the door. Immediately everyone is on alert and looking at him. Shouta can see how they recognize him by their expressions mimicking a bunch of fishes.

“What? How are you alive?” The leader asks.

“Who says I’m alive?” Shouta asks, smirking.

“Kill him. KILL HIM!!!” The leader yells, and five villains pull a gun and start shooting at Shouta.

The bullets hit him in his arms, legs, chest, and one in his head. The impact makes Shouta fall to the floor.

“Good luck coming back this time.” The leader laughs.

“I don’t need luck.” Shouta replies, getting up.

The villains all look at Shouta in horror. The bullet wounds are all there, it’s possible to see through the hole in his head, and yet here he is. Standing.

“What…? That’s impossible.” The leader whispers.

“Now.” Shouta says, pulling a bullet out of his chest. “I think it’s my turn.” His eyes turn red, and his hair starts floating as he jumps at the villains.

People who were nearby in the future will report hearing terrified screams coming from inside the warehouse. The captured villains would speak of a hero dressed in black who simply would not die no matter how hard they attacked. These occurrences would become increasingly common, creating a new urban legend. The immortal hero. An unknown underground hero known to leave most of the villains traumatized.

…

As Shouta walks back home, he thinks about how he’s going to explain this to Zashi. He feels completely fine, but something tells him that Zashi won’t believe him. After all, he’s literally carrying his head in his arms like some kind of Dullahan creature.

Well, he has to admit, being a zombie makes hero work a lot easier, and he dares say much more amusing as well. The memory of the terror in the criminals’ eyes when Shouta still got up after losing his head will be forever burned in his memories.

But for now, Shouta climbs through the building where he lives and goes to Zashi’s window. He can’t risk walking through the door and being seen like this. It’ll be too much to explain. Maybe he should start carrying needles and thread with him? That way, if it happens again, he can sew his head back on, at least as a temporary solution.

Shouta knocks on Zashi’s window.

“Shou?” Zashi opens the window. “Did you forget your keys ag-” He stops with the window half open, seeing Shouta holding his head. 

Shouta activates erasure, but to his surprise, Zashi doesn’t scream. Instead, his husband simply faints, falling on his back, and the window closes again.

“Zashi? Zashi?” He hears no response. Looks like he really fainted.

Sighing, Shouta goes to the next window, which belongs to Hitoshi, and knocks again. Hitoshi opens the window and stares at him for several seconds.

“Nope. Not today, demon.” He closes the window and starts walking away. “Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.” His voice gets lower and lower as he walks out of the room.

“Oh. C’mon!” Shouta says in frustration and goes to the next window.

If he is not mistaken, that window leads to Mittens’ office. He can hear the sound of tools at work coming from inside. He knocks on the dorm hoping the cat will hear him. The sound stops, and he sees a mechanical arm open the window. He sighs and enters.

“Usually, ‘losing your head’ is just a metaphor.” Mittens says.

“Leave me alone.” Shouta grumbles. “Is Frank home?”

“Lab.” Shouta tilts the head in his arms like a nod and walks out.

Of course, today is the day that all the team is home. Dabi and Ronin are watching TV in the living room. Chihiro is cleaning her bow. Katashi is beating a punching bag. As soon as Shouta steps out, all eyes are on him.

“Wow…” Dabi says. “Nice shot.”

“Shut up.” Shouta grumbles, ignoring the fact that he has a bullet hole in his head.

He simply walks to Frank’s door and knocks. The door opens, and Frank looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I think this answers the question of how durable we are.” He says, stepping out and pulling Shouta by the sleeve to the table. “Sit down and hold your head in place, please.”

Shouta does as he said, and as Frank is moving to start the healing, another door opens, and Izuku steps out, rubbing his eyes. He’s walking to the kitchen when he seems to notice there’s one more person in the room. He turns to Shouta and rubs his eyes as if to make sure he’s really seeing this.

“Please tell me this will not be a recurring incident.” He walks to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water. “I don’t know if Yamada’s heart can handle it.”

“I don’t intend it to be.” Shouta replies.

“Hold still.” Frank says. “Hey, Dabi. Give me a hand here.”

“Sure. Left or right?” Dabi replies.

“What?” Frank asks, and when he looks, Dabi is throwing his right arm at him. Frank blinks at the arm crawling towards him, then chuckles. “Okay, that’s a good one. Ronin, help me here.”

Ronin sighs and gets up, helping hold Shouta’s head in the correct position as Frank heals it.

“I’m going back to bed.” Izuku says, yawning. “Good night, guys. Good night, Aizawa.”

As he walks away, Dabi looks intently at Shouta.

“How the hell did this even happen?” He asks.

Shouta sighs and explains what happened earlier. As he tells them about how he fought the criminal gang alone, everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Which is fair but rude.

“You know what? forget what I said.” Dabi says, “Druid is not a good name for you.” 

“Of course, it’s not.” Shouta grumbles.

“You are a fucking Berserker!!! ” Dabi says, emphasizing the last word.

Shouta can feel his eye twitch at the name.

“Don’t move.” Frank says. “I’m almost finished.”

Shouta sighs again. He’s been doing that a lot lately, and he has a feeling he’ll be doing it a lot more.

“What has my life become?” He grumbles to himself.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

What happened to the Symbol of Peace?

Izuku reads the headline in the newspaper with a frown on his face. His tenth birthday was a few weeks ago, and, just like last year, his team went all out. That day he had watched on the news as All Might fought a villain called Toxic Chainsaw. But now that he thinks about it, All Might has yet to make an appearance since that fight.

As people must be aware, All Might, Japan’s number one hero and the Symbol of Peace, hasn’t been active ever since his fight against the villain Toxic Chainsaw. People are starting to speculate what happened.

The theories are various. Some believe All Might decided to take a vacation, but this is a difficult theory to believe. Since his debut decades ago, All Might has never taken more than two days off in a row. The Symbol of Peace never rests.

People are waiting for a statement from his agency, but the Might Tower has been suspiciously tight-lipped about the matter. This leads us to speculate, has something happened to the Symbol of Peace?

It is hard to even imagine the possibility, but as powerful as All Might is, he’s still a human being. Could it be that the Peace Symbol has finally faced a villain up to his level? How powerful would such a villain be? The truth is that until the HPSC or Might Tower makes a statement, we won’t know what happened.

Izuku lowers the newspaper. A villain at All Might’s level? That’s practically impossible to imagine, but being part of the underground, Izuku is privy to some information that most people aren’t. One such piece of information is more of a legend than anything else. And yet…

“Could the Boogeyman of the Underground be real?” Izuku mutters to himself.

“Hey, Izuku!” Ronin calls. “We found the target.”

Izuku puts the newspaper away and puts his hood up. He can think about this later. For now, he has work to do.

“Barbarian, block his exit.” Izuku says. “Fighter, you stay here. If you can get a clean shot, do it.”

Fighter nods and gets his sniper rifle ready.

“Okay, let’s go.” Barbarian says. Then he holds Izuku and jumps down the building, hardening his legs to absorb the impact.

They drop right in front of the target. A middle-aged man wearing glasses and a suit. The client doesn’t care about the methods. He just wants this person dead. And after learning the reason, Izuku is very inclined to agree.

“Who are you!?” The man asks.

“You angered someone you shouldn’t.” Izuku says as Barbarian stands in the only way out of this alley.

This… Thing - Izuku can’t even call it a human - is a teacher at an Elementary school. He’s also a pedophile who abused more than 20 students in his career. Of course, the police didn’t do anything because he always chooses as victims kids with “villainous” quirks or quirkless.

But to his misfortune, his last victim was the son of someone with a lot of money and connections with the Underground. Though, to be honest, even if the client couldn’t pay him, Izuku would still have accepted this job. Child abusers are the kind of people he hates the most.

“Stay back.” The man says, backing into a corner. 

He seems more worried about Katashi than Izuku. Which is fair. Izuku is a 10 years old boy, and Katashi is built like fucking tank. Still, Izuku has a scythe in his hands. And he knows how to use it. He probably won’t need it, though. Just one more step back and…

A bang is heard, and a bullet quickly goes through the pedophile’s head. He falls to the floor, bleeding. Then Izuku pulls a folder and drops it over the body. The folder is filled with pictures of the things he did to children, and so proudly recorded.

“Disgusting.” Izuku mutters as he walks away.

Ronin drops down next to him, and Katashi follows them.

“Well, job done.” Izuku says. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah… Just a minute.” Ronin walks over to the body and pulls out a pistol, unloading the clip on the corpse. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Was that necessary?” Izuku asks.

Ronin just shrugs, and they walk away.

Chapter Text

A few weeks ago, shortly after his twelfth birthday, Izuku was contacted by an unexpected customer, to say the least. After all, Hawks, the rising star of the hero world, came looking specifically for him.

After a few weeks of negotiation, he will finally meet the real client. Izuku has done jobs for all kinds of clients, but if there is one he feels like turning down, it is this one.

Maybe it’s because he’s bitter, but he doesn’t want to work for the Hero Public Safety Commission. Those corrupts are among the main culprits in spreading quirkist views in the society. And that is ignoring all the dirt they hide under the rug. 

The clear favoritism they show with certain heroes, while anyone who dares to speak ill of them is buried so deep in the rankings that you could say their careers are over. Only the Underground Heroes are free of this influence, but without any media presence, they can do little to change public opinion.

In short, Izuku definitely doesn’t like them. But the payment they’re offering is great. And more than the money, Izuku is interested to know what job is this that the HPSC is so desperate as to hire a mercenary to do it. 

To Izuku’s greater surprise, the client ends up being the Madam President herself. He definitely wasn’t expecting this, but at least he’s been training his poker face, so he doesn’t let the surprise show. Accompanying him are Ronin and Chihiro. Both look at the President and Hawks with unconcealed suspicion.

“Why pay so much just to investigate a laboratory?” Izuku asks.

“As you know, society is still in shambles because of the disappearance of All Might.” The President says. “We can’t risk more heroes.”

So they are using expendable pawns, huh? Izuku thinks. Reasonable but still infuriating.

Honestly, this is the problem with the Symbol of Peace. Society grew too dependent on All Might, and after he went missing two years ago, it’s like the entire hero society collapsed. 

Interestingly, Endeavor did not become the number-one hero like everyone expected. Instead, Best Jeanist, who had been in the number three position, rose to number one while Endeavor remained number two.

Izuku has a theory about the reason. All his life, Endeavor has been running after the number one spot, but he wanted to have it by surpassing All Might. He wouldn’t accept becoming number one by default. Probably this is a form of manipulation by the HPSC. By forcing Endeavor to remain the number two hero, he’ll still be working towards becoming number one. It’s dumb, but Endeavor is like a caveman with an one-track mind. Izuku is sure it’ll work.

“So, my job is to break into this lab and discover what is happening there?” Izuku asks.

“We don’t care about what you find out.” The President replies. “We want you to destroy everything. Cause as much damage as you can.”

“And the people there?” Izuku asks. “Workers, scientists, doctors?”

“We’d rather you kill everyone.” She replies. “But we don’t care if they escape. Just make sure to destroy any documents.”

“Alright, we have a deal.” Izuku says, getting up. “You can send the payment through Guildmaster Star once the job is done.”

Then they leave.

“There’s something more to it.” Ronin says once they are out, and sure, no one is eavesdropping.

“Oh, for sure.” Izuku says.” I’m sure they’re trying to hide something.” He looks at Chihiro. “Call everyone. We’ll need all hands on deck for this job.”

“Understood, boss.” Chihiro says.

…

“Well. I did say all hands on deck.” Izuku mutters. “But I didn’t know you would call him.” He points to Eraserhead.

“They didn’t.” Eraserhead replies. “But I saw you all leaving suited up and became curious.”

“I’m not opposed to your help. But you know I’m putting you to work, right?” Izuku asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Fair enough.” Eraserhead shrugs. “If it’s a job dangerous enough to warrant even her-” He points to the floor where Mittens is controlling her new combat drones. “Getting suited up. I think you could use an extra person.”

“Alright. Welcome aboard.” Izuku says with a grin. “Nice to work with you, Berserker.”

“I won’t escape from this name, will I?” Eraserhead asks.

“No way.” Izuku, Frank, and Dabi say at the same time.

“Alright, guys. Time to go in.” Izuku says. “Berserker, Fighter, Ranger, and I are the stealth team. We are going to find what this place really is. Barbarian, Arsonist, Fixer, and Artificer are the distraction team. Make all the noise you can.”

The good thing about a job that requires mass destruction is that Dabi is more than happy doing it. Izuku’s skeleton is a bit too much into his persona. And well, Katashi, Mittens, and Frank aren’t much better, surprisingly enough.

Who the hell gave Frank a grenade launcher?

As the distraction team - maybe he should have called them the destruction team instead - do their thing, the stealth team infiltrates the lab. Well, at least Izuku can always count on his arson-happy team to cause chaos. Infiltrating the lab is easy. Too easy, to be honest.

Izuku barely finds any guards on the way. He finds mostly empty rooms or places where it looks like some kind of experiment was made. But it’s impossible to say what it is.

“Hey, Necromancer.” Ronin calls. “I think you’ll want to see this.”

Izuku follows him to a surveillance room. There are dozens of screens showing all parts of the lab. He could see as the doctors ran around trying to burn archives. Shouta doesn’t take long to get there with Chihiro and knock them out, though. In another room, more and more guards try to fight the distraction team, but Dabi has no problem disposing of them.

“Well, things are going well.” Izuku mutters. “Now, let’s see what else they have he- NO WAY!!!”

“Necromancer?” Ronin asks.

Izuku just points to the screen in the middle. The screen is pointed to a room filled with tubes. And inside one of them…

“Why is he here?” Izuku asks.

“He’s been missing for two years.” Ronin says. “Guess we found the Symbol of Peace.”

Inside the tube is the body of All Might, with a huge hole in his stomach. He’s clearly dead, but the body is preserved.

“Let’s go.” Izuku says, reaching for his comms. “Chihiro, I need you to guide the distraction toward me.”

“Roger.” Chihiro says.

“I copied everything they have left.” Shouta says. “Let’s go.”

“Alright.” Dabi says. “We’re on our way. Guide us, Ranger.”

Izuku rushes with Ronin to the room they found. Thankfully, it’s hard to find it. As they enter, Izuku looks in awe at the imposing figure of the former number-one hero. Even dead, he looks as grand as always.

“Let’s grab him.” Izuku says. “The HPSC said they had no interest in what we find here, so they can’t complain.”

“Alright.” Ronin says. “Let’s go.”

As they walk towards the tube, suddenly, a black mist starts swirling around the room. From the mist, dozens of villains jump into the room.

“I can’t allow you to take him.” A voice says. “You have no idea how hard it was to snatch the body of the Symbol of Peace.”

A man, apparently made of the same mist as the portals, steps in. He wears a bartender suit and some kind of iron brace around his neck. His eyes are like two yellow lights.

Ronin pulls his gun and fires against him, but the man opens another portal and redirects the bullets back to him. Ronin looks at his chest, seeing the bullet holes.

“Huh. Neat trick.” He says, changing to his tonfas.

“So what they say is true.” The mist guy says, narrowing his eyes. “Necromancer’s zombies are really immortal.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Ronin says. “Wanna find out?”

“Kill them!” The mist guy orders, and the villains attack.

Just as one of them is about to attack Ronin from behind, Izuku swings his scythe and severs their arm.

“I’m here too, you know?” He says, pouting. “It’s so rude to just ignore me.”

“I’ll leave the small fries for you.” Ronin says, diving at the mist guy.

“Kurogiri-San!” One of the villains yells.

“Oh, so Mist Guy’s name is Kurogiri.” Izuku says with a grin. “Interesting.”

He runs at the villains and starts swinging his scythe, hitting them indiscriminately.

“What is this? They aren’t hesitating in killing us!” A villain yells.

“Oh? You thought we were heroes?” Ronin asks.

“We are far from heroes.” Izuku adds. “So, if you want to survive, you better run away while you still can.”

“T-They are just two. Don’t be scared.” One of them yells and runs towards Izuku.

“Nope.” Izuku grins. “We aren’t two.”

A gray cloth wraps around the villain, pulling him away from Izuku. Then two drones enter the room, fly in and start shooting everyone. Explosions follow as Dabi and Frank enter. Chihiro fires her bow, and Katashi punches every villain he sees.

“We are eight~” Izuku sing-songs as he walks towards the tube and hits it with the back of his scythe.

The glass breaks, and All Might’s body falls to the floor. Izuku quickly kneels next to it and pulls his knife, slashing his wrist. His blood starts to fall.

“I can’t allow you to bring him back.” Kurogiri says, and a portal opens in front of Izuku, a punch flying at him.

Izuku jumps back, raising his arm to protect his face. At this moment, the movement makes his blood fly from his wrist, splashing Kurogiri in the face.

“How unpleasant.” Kurogiri says. “I hate having blood inside m-” Suddenly, he freezes. “What? What’s happening?”

As he freezes, everyone watches as the mist surrounding his body starts flickering. A pale face is revealed for a moment, then goes back to normal. Izuku’s eyes widen as he looks at it, then at his bleeding wrist.

“Could it be?” Izuku runs to Kurogiri while he’s still frozen and pulls his wrist above his head, letting the blood fall. “You… Kurogiri, are you a zombie as well?”

“What are you…” The mist starts flickering again, and soon it starts to disperse. “What are you doing?”

“So, I’m not the only one who can create zombies.” Izuku says. “But I don’t think you were created from a quirk. It’s different.” He looks Kurogiri straight in the eyes. “ Reveal your true face, Kurogiri! ” He orders.

The mist disperses completely, revealing a boy who seems to be about the same age as Shouta. He has purple hair, which seems to float like a cloud, and yellow eyes. He’s pale like all of Izuku’s zombies, but there’s a slight recognition in his eyes as he looks at Izuku.

“I… You… You freed me.” He says in awe.

Izuku smiles at him.

“Whoever did this to you can’t control you anymore. Welcome back.” Izuku says, giving him a warm smile.

“I… I am…” The man says. “Obo… Obo…”

“Oboro?” Izuku turns and sees Shouta looking at the man with wide eyes. And three swords piercing his chest. “Oboro, is that you?”

“You…” Kurogiri - or is it Oboro? - looks at Shouta, and his eyes widen. “S-Shouta?” 

So, do they know each other? Izuku watches as the two approach. Shouta seems to be trying to make sure he is not seeing an illusion while Kurogiri - or Oboro - looks at him from up to down.

“We never found your body.” Shouta says. “So this is what happened to you.”

Izuku smiles at the heartfelt reunion - amongst a pile of villains screaming as they are burnt alive - and moves to the other body on the floor. He lets the blood fall on All Might’s body and watches as the wound in his stomach closes. He wraps his wrist to stop the bleeding and takes a step back to wait for All Might to wake up.

To Izuku’s surprise, again, All Might doesn’t react to his quirk in the same way as the others. His body gets wrapped in some kind of electricity as the hero opens his eyes. His muscles seem to inflate.

“ I AM HERE! ” All Might says. “ BACK FROM THE DEAD!!! ”

“Oh, shit. All Might is back!” One of the villains screams.

Suddenly, all villains drop their weapons and start running away. In less than a minute, only Izuku, his zombies, and All Might remain in the room. All Might looks around until his eyes land on Izuku.

“ Young man, are you the one who brought me back? ” All Might asks.

“It’s a long story.” Izuku says. “But that’s my quirk. What do you remember?”

“ Everything, my boy. ” All Might replies.

“Everything?” Izuku asks, surprised. “But you’ve been dead for two years. No one who has been dead for that long ever retained their memory. What’s different?” He looks around. “Was your body preserved? Or was it something else?”

“ Young man? ” All Might asks.

“Forget it. I’ll explain later. We still have a job to finish.” Izuku says.

“We already destroyed everything.” Dabi says. “This is the only room left.”

Izuku nods and turns to Kurogiri.

“How do your portals work?” He asks.

“I can open one anywhere, as long as I have coordinates.” Kurogiri replies.

“Coordinates?” Izuku asks, turning to Chihiro.

She seems to understand exactly what Izuku’s idea is.

“Yes, I can give him the coordinates.” Chihiro says. “Where to?”

“Is Hizashi home?” Izuku asks.

“He is.” Shouta replies. Meanwhile, Frank goes to him and starts to heal the - too many - stab wounds he got from this fight.

Chihiro nods and concentrates for a while, then she tells Kurogiri the coordinates. Kurogiri nods and opens a warp gate for them. They go one after the other, Dabi being the last one to pass. He sets the room on fire as well.

As they enter, Izuku finds Hizashi looking at Kurogiri with wide eyes, a hand covering his mouth as tears gather in his eyes.

“Oboro?” He asks.

“Zashi?” Kurogiri replies.

Izuku nudges Shouta ahead and smiles. Then he turns to the other zombies.

“Let’s go.” Izuku says. “There’s a lot we need to discuss.” He looks at All Might. “A lot happened in the two years since you disappeared.”

“Then I’m counting on you to fill me in.” All Might says in a much softer tone than before.

Izuku nods, and they walk back to their apartment.

Chapter Text

Izuku is used to having unusual people in his house. Zombies, heroes, cats, Hitoshi. But he never thought that one day he would have Fucking All Might sitting on his couch sipping a cup of coffee.

They are waiting for Shouta, Hizashi, and Oboro to finish their reunion so they can talk about what the hell happened in that lab. But meanwhile, Izuku explained everything that has happened in the last two years from the gray point of view of someone deep in the Underground. Surprisingly, All Might seems to understand his point of view very well.

“My mentor and her best friend were both Underground heroes.” All Might explained. “Thanks to them, I know a lot about how the Underground works despite being the very definition of a Limelight hero.”

Well, this makes a lot of sense. Looks like All Might is much more knowledgeable than most people give him credit for. But to be fair, his hero persona doesn’t exactly help his case.

They talk for about half an hour before they hear a knock on the door, and Shouta, Hizashi, and Oboro come in. Hitoshi is inside Frank’s Lab playing since he can’t be involved in this talk. Once everyone is set with either a tea or coffee cup or a whole pot, in Shouta’s case, Izuku claps once.

“So, where should we start?” He says.

“I guess I should explain what happened to me.” All Might says. “I’m not sure why, but I think I can trust all of you.”

“That’s probably me.” Izuku says. “I noticed that all the people I reanimate tend to have strong familial feelings about me.”

“That might be the case.” All Might says. “But I can see it’s more than that. No quirk would be able to force a bond like I see you have with your family. Your relationship is nothing like a master/servant relationship.”

“That’s good.” Izuku replies. “I don’t want to be anyone’s master.”

“Then it’s good that such a quirk belongs to you.” All Might replies. “But let me start from the beginning. And by beginning, I mean 200 years ago. A long time ago, there were two brothers…”

All Might explains a long story about All for One, the bogeyman of the Underground, and his presumed quirkless brother who opposed him. How All for One, the man capable of giving and stealing quirks used his power to gather influence and power. He had thousands of followers out of respect or fear.

All for One forced a power stockpiling quirk on his younger brother, maybe out of pity, maybe in an attempt to force him to obey. But it turned out that the younger brother was not quirkless. He possessed a quirk that allowed him to pass his power on to someone else. The two quirks merged and became the power passed from generation to generation like a torch. The quirk is called One for All. Each user fought against All for One, but all were defeated. 

All Might, the eighth bearer, fought against All for One two years ago. But just like his predecessors, he lost. Well, losing is not the right word. The fight ended in a draw. All for One pierced his stomach, and All Might crushed his head. All Might succumbed to his injuries before he could reach the medics, but he doesn’t know what happened to All for One.

“Well, I can’t say for sure.” Oboro says. “Two years ago, All for One stopped contacting me. My last order from him was to keep looking after Shigaraki Tomura.”

“Shigaraki Tomura?” Izuku asks. “Who’s that?”

“Sensei adopted him when he was six years old.” Oboro says, frowning. “He’s been grooming him to become his successor. He’s 16 years old currently.”

“And what kind of person is he?” All Might asks.

“A brat.” Oboro chuckles. “He’s a spoiled brat who loves video games and throws a tantrum whenever he doesn’t get what he wants. But despite that, he’s not a bad person. I can see in his eyes. He can still be saved.”

“Then we will save him!” Izuku, and All Might, say at the same time.

Izuku looks at the hero and smiles. His hero worship of All Might diminished a lot over the years he spent ingrained in the Underground community. But he never stopped admiring the man. It’s good to know All Might really is the kind of person he thought he was.

“Now, there’s one more thing I want to discuss.” Izuku says. “Why both of you kept your memories? All Might has been dead for two years, and…” He looks at Oboro. “Er… How do you want to be called?”

“My name was Shirakumo Oboro.” Oboro says. “But Shirakumo doesn’t seem right anymore. And I’m still partially Kurogiri, so… How about Kurogiri Oboro? You can call me Oboro, though.”

“Gotcha!” Izuku gives Oboro a thumbs up. “So, Oboro has been dead for at least 9 years. Frank only died for a few hours, and he forgot practically all of his life.”

“I actually have a theory.” Oboro says, gesturing for Izuku to come closer. “Can you hear my heart?” Izuku raises an eyebrow as he leans on Oboro’s chest.

“Zombies don’t have…” Izuku’s eyes widen as he hears a very faint heartbeat. “Your heart is beating!?!?”

“So, it’s like I thought.” Oboro nods.

“What have you thought?” Izuku asks. “How come your heart is still beating?”

“I don’t think I was really dead when you brought me back.” Oboro says. “But I wasn’t alive either. Which is why your quirk worked. The creature they made me is something between life and death. I could only follow orders, but my brain never degenerated.”

“So, since your brain was still working, you kept your memories?” Izuku summarizes. “This actually makes sense, but you are partially alive. This makes you different from all the other zombies. I don’t know if you are as durable as the others, so please, don’t pull an Eraserhead on us, okay?”

Shouta grumbles something and aggressively sips his coffee cup.

“What do you mean?” Oboro asks, tilting his head.

“Well, Shouta died about two years ago, and I brought him back.” Izuku explains. “Since then, he has lost his head at least seven times.”

“He lost both of his arms three times.” Frank says.

“A shark villain ate his leg once.” Dabi adds. “It was hilarious to watch him hopping home.”

“There was a time I saw him with about 40 knives buried in his back and guts.” Ronin says.

“It was only 37.” Shouta grumbles.

“Oh, there was that time he was carrying his heart.” Mittens says. “And if I remember correctly, he lost a lung in the sea.”

“Yup. Good thing my quirk can regrow those.” Frank says. “At this point, I simply check his apartment every day to make sure he hasn’t forgotten to come find me for healing.”

“It’s not like I died.” Shouta grumbles. “I’m fine.”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE ALREADY DEAD!!” All zombies say together.

“Got it.” Oboro nods. “I won’t pull an Eraserhead.”

“Well, this explains Oboro, but what about All Might?” Hizashi asks, trying to divert the conversation from all the times his husband has been dismembered.

“Well, maybe it could be because his body was preserved on that tube thing?” Izuku suggests.

“That could be part of the reason.” All Might says. “But I can see another reason. One for All.”

Izuku blinks a few times, then realization dawns on him.

“You said One for All is a stockpiling quirk. Could it be that it stockpiles more than just power?” Izuku says. “Maybe the quirk stockpiles a part of the users as well? Their souls, if you believe in that. Or it could be just their memory. Maybe even the previous user’s quirks!!! That’s incredible! I never heard of a quirk like this before!!! I can see why it’s such a guarded secret.”

“And I must ask all of you to keep it a secret.” All Might says. “But I feel that I can trust you.”

“Of course, All Might. We won’t tell anyone.” Izuku says, making a zipping motion in his mouth. “What do you intend to do now?” He asks. “You would be more than welcome to stay with us, But…”

“We joined Izuku because we basically have no past.” Ronin says. “Besides Chihiro and now Oboro, none of us can even remember our own name. We had nothing to lose and everything to gain. But you’re different.”

“You’re right.” All Might says. “It’s been two years already, and like you said, things become very bad without the Symbol of Peace. It’s past the time for my return.”

“People will question what happened.” Shouta points. “You’ve been missing for two years.”

“I’ll find something.” All Might says. “But for now, I need to call an old friend. Could anyone lend me a phone?”

“Sure.” Izuku reaches into his pocket and throws his phone to All Might. The phone is comically tiny in his giant hands.

“Thank you, young Izuku.” All Might nods. “Also, my name is Yagi Toshinori. And I promise to repay you for what you did for me. If you ever need my help, either as All Might, Yagi Toshinori, or someone else, I promise to help you.”

Saying that All Might moves to a more private part of the apartment to make his call.

“What about you, Oboro?” Hizashi asks. “What are you going to do now?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Oboro replies. “I’m Oboro, but I’m also Kurogiri. I’m different now. I didn’t have much before. I was a foster kid like Shouta, so it’s not like I have a family to go back to. I’d still like to see my old friends again. I wonder how Nemuri and Tensei are.”

“They are both great heroes.” Hizashi says. “Tensei took the mantle of Ingenium, and Nemuri keeps pushing all the boundaries with her persona. I’m sure they’d like to see you again as well.”

“It’ll be very hard to explain things, though.” Oboro says.

“They have an open mind.” Shouta replies. “We can explain everything.” He turns to Izuku. “They aren’t the kind of people that would judge you for it.”

“You can explain everything.” Izuku says. “Just leave my name, my real name, out of it.” Shouta nods. “And Oboro, if you don’t have a family, why don’t you join ours? We are a crazy lot, but I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

“This sounds like a nice idea.” Oboro nods, tearing up.

“Then welcome to the team, Oboro.” Izuku says.

Oboro grins and brushes a tear off his face.

“So, Necromancer, Arsonist, Fighter, Fixer, Artificer, Barbarian, Ranger, and Berserker. You all have RPG classes as codenames?” Oboro asks.

“Yup.” Dabi replies. “It was Green Bean’s idea.”

“In that case…” Oboro looks at himself, noticing the vestiges of the purple smoke his body still has. “I call dibs on Warlock!”

“Warlock?” Izuku asks. “That’s perfect! What about All Might? Even if he’s not officially part of the team, he’s still one of us.”

“Monk?” Dabi suggests.

“I mean, it works, but isn’t it too obvious?” Frank says. “I vote Paladin.”

“Paladin is a great choice.” Izuku mutters. “But I was thinking of something else. How about…”

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

It’s a good thing that Toshinori still remembers his friends’ numbers. He just hopes that they still have the same number. Otherwise, he will have to go to the police station to look for his friend, and that would be even more awkward than this call certainly will be. Well, no time like the present.

Toshinori dials the number, and the call rings twice before being answered.

“Tsukauchi speaking.”

Toshinori takes a deep breath.

“Naomasa. It’s been a long time.” Toshinori hears a gasp from the other end.

“Toshinori?” The detective asks.

“Yes, it’s me, Naomasa.” Toshinori replies.

“My quirk doesn’t work over the phone.” Naomasa grumbles. Toshinori is sure he’s narrowing his eyes. “It’s been two years, so you’ll have to forgive me for being skeptical. Prove it’s you.”

Toshinori thinks for a second.

“A side effect of your quirk is that you cannot lie. This makes you brutally sincere.” Toshinori says and chuckles. “Once Mirai showed up wearing a yellow suit just like the one I have, and you said, ‘You look like a mustard bottle.’”

This apparently is enough because Toshinori hears another gasp.

“Toshinori… It’s really you.” Naomasa says. “It’s been two years. What happened?”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t want to explain over the phone.” Toshinori replies. “I need a favor. Could you arrange a meeting with Gran and Mirai? Nedzu too.”

“Alright. I’ll set it up as soon as possible.” Naomasa says. “I’m glad you’re fine, Toshinori.”

“There’s a lot to explain, but I’m glad to be back.” Toshinori replies. “You can contact me on this number when you have everything set.”

“Okay. See you soon, Toshinori.” Naomasa says, then hangs the call.

Toshinori can’t help the smile on his face at the thought of seeing his friends again. Not even the certainty that Gran Torino will kick him in the gut for all the worry he has caused dampens his happiness.

Returning to the living room, he finds Young Izuku and Young Dabi glaring at each other.

“Yeah, I get it. He likes to punch. But still…” Dabi says. “Isn’t that too obvious?”

“Your code name is literally ‘Arsonist.’ You have no room to talk.” Izuku replies.

“You are the one who chose the name!” Dabi argues.

“And you agreed.” Izuku points.

“What are they arguing about?” Toshinori asks Ronin.

“Your code name.” Ronin points. “It is more out of tradition. We all have a codename related to RPGs, even Eraserhead, despite him not being officially part of the team.”

“Dabi says you should be called Monk.” Chihiro says, looking at the scene with an amused expression. “While Izuku wants to call you Brawler.”

“Well, both names are interesting choices.” Toshinori mutters. He never got to play RPGs, but that’s because, during his childhood, he had no friends, and after receiving One for All, he threw himself entirely into hero life. Still, in his heart, Toshinori is a nerd. “Well, if I had to choose one, I think I like Brawler more.”

“YES!” Izuku cheers, jumping from the couch and pointing a finger at Dabi. “Take that, Bone Jovi!”

Toshinori watches in amusement as they bicker. This certainly is an amusing family. Despite having no heartbeat, Toshinori never felt more alive.

Chapter Text

Being a zombie is actually quite convenient for a hero. Since Shouta died and was brought back, his job has become infinitely easier. For one thing, he no longer has to worry about dry eyes. He can keep his quirk active for several hours without any problems. He also doesn’t feel pain anymore, which is very convenient for a Hero, and even more so for an Underground Hero.

There’s only one thing he misses about being alive. Naps.

(Well, there’s also a problem related to his night activities with his husband due to Shouta not having a pulse anymore. But that’s beside the point.)

Shouta really misses taking his naps, especially in situations like this one. Even though he can’t nap anymore, he still feels like taking one. How in the world did he end up involved in the mess of the number one hero’s return again? Oh, right. Even two years after going missing, the man’s face is still probably the most recognizable face in Japan, so he can’t just walk to UA, where Nedzu set the meeting.

Honestly, Shouta wonders how they got the Rat to agree to this. It’s not like Nedzu to allow people who don’t work for him to enter his territory.

Anyway, the plan is for Shouta to go there, so Chihiro can get his coordinates and give them to Oboro, who will open a portal for All Might, or Yagi, as he insisted they call him. At least it’s a sound plan.

Shouta gets to UA and quickly goes to the meeting room, ignoring everyone he meets along the way. He’s not in the mood for small talk, and thankfully all his coworkers seem to realize it.

Entering the meeting room, Shouta finds Tsukauchi and an old man wearing a yellow costume. Tsukauchi raises an eyebrow at him upon seeing him.

“You too?” He asks.

“Unfortunately, I’m very involved with this… Symbolic situation.” Shouta replies.

“Oh, Shouta-Kun. Great timing.” Nedzu appears from… somewhere. “Looks like everyone is here.”

“Not everyone.” The old man says. “Where is the buffon? His face has a date with my boot after making me worry so much.”

“Of course. Shouta-Kun?” Nedzu says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shouta grumbles and pulls out his phone, sending a message to Chihiro. “Any second now.”

“Any second?” Tsukauchi replies. “What do you me-”

A black portal opens in the middle of the room, and the Symbol of Peace steps out.

“ I AM HERE! ” Yagi says dramatically as he steps out. “ BACK TO MY F- ”

Suddenly, the old man jumps at him with a lot more speed than one would expect, even for someone half his age, and lands a kick straight at Yagi’s gut. The man doubles back, though Shouta is sure it’s out of reflex since he’s sure he can’t feel pain anymore.

“You idiot. Where have you been?” The old man says. “Two years. Two years! And not even a single message? What the hell, Toshi?”

“I’m sorry, Gran.” Yagi replies. “It’s a long story, but I swear I would have come back or even contacted you if I could.”

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” The old man, Gran? grumbles as he jumps back to his chair. 

“Well, then we should start this meeting soon.” Nedzu chirps. “Anyone want tea? Oh, I have coffee for you, Shouta-Kun.”

Shouta nods and walks to the pot, pouring a mug for himself, and since he’s feeling generous, he also gets one for Tsukauchi. Nedzu and Gran get a cup of tea, and All Might opts to not get a drink.

“So, before starting, let me introduce you two.” Nedzu says, pointing at the old man. “Shouta-Kun. This is Sorahiko Torino. Or Gran Torino as he wasn’t known before retiring.”

So the old man was an Underground Hero. Shouta likes to keep tabs on all the Underground Heroes who came before and after him, so the fact that this old man could stay unknown to even Shouta means that he is either a very good or very bad one. Shouta looks at him and nods.

“I’m Aizawa Shouta. Not known as Eraserhead.” Shouta replies.

“Hah! We really need more good Undergrounds.” Gran Torino replies and turns to Yagi. “So, what happened that took two years for you to reach back to us? And right after that battle too. Everyone thought you were dead.”

Well, they’re not wrong. Shouta thinks.

“First, Naomasa, I’d like to make sure your quirk still works on me.” Yagi replies. “Could you test it?”

Tsukauchi raises an eyebrow at the request but still nods.

“Alright. I need you to tell me a truth, a half truth, and a blatant lie.” Tsukauchi says.

“I’m blond. I’m quirkless.” He thinks for a second. “I’m in love with All for One.”

Tsukauchi chuckles at the last part.

“Yes, my quirk is working just as intended.” Tsukauchi says. “But why did you need that?”

“To make sure you wouldn’t think I’m joking about what I’m about to say.” Yagi says, taking a deep breath. “The reason why I didn’t reach out in the last two years was, to put it bluntly, because I died.”

Tsukauchi’s eyes widen at the statement. Gran Torino’s jaw drops at it. Nedzu, though seems completely unaffected. Shouta has the feeling that the Rat already knew or at least suspected that this was the case.

“What do you mean ‘you died’ Toshi?” Gran Torino asks.

“True…” Tsukauchi says. “The statement rang true.”

“If you need proof.” Yagi gets up. “Just hear it.” He puts a hand over his chest.

Tsukauchi gets up and shakily walks to Yagi, putting his ear over the man’s chest. He stays there for a few seconds like he’s trying desperately to hear something.

“No heartbeat.” Tsukauchi says. “Toshinori, you have no heartbeat.”

Yagi nods and sits down.

“The fight two years ago was much worse than I thought. All for One was even stronger than any of us thought he would be.” Yagi sighs. “I managed to get a good hit at him. Carved the bastard’s head. I thought it was over. and dropped my guard.” He frowns at it. “Turns out that he still had a last trick. He pierced through my stomach, and due to the angle he ended up piercing my heart as well. I succumbed to my wounds before I could take ten steps, let alone get to the paramedics.” He looks down in shame. “Last thing I know, I’m floating in some kind of limbo. I could feel seven other presences with me, but I couldn’t talk, hear, or see anything. Then, before I knew it - it felt like it had been only a few minutes for me - I was waking up inside a lab. A young boy with his wrist bleeding was looking at me.”

Shouta takes this as his cue.

“Are any of you familiar with the name ‘Necromancer?’” He asks.

“We have very little on him.” Tsukauchi says. “The police only know that he’s a member of the Silver Star Guild, and Guildmaster Star is very fond of him.”

“He seems to be very young.” Gran Torino adds. “And apparently started even younger.”

“He’s a twelve years old boy.” Shouta supplies. “And anything I say here won’t leave this room, understood?” Both Tsukauchi and Gran Torino nod. Shouta turns at Nedzu, who still looks completely unfazed. “You already know most of what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” Nedzu Shrugs.

Shouta just sighs and looks back at the other two.

“Necromancer has a necromancy quirk.” Shouta explains. “He can reanimate corpses by pouring his blood into them. His blood also seems to heal any wounds the corpse has, restoring it to a functional state. But his zombies are still dead. This is why neither Yagi, nor I have a heartbeat.” He sighs. “Yes, I’m dead as well.”

“This… Is actually a lot less surprising than I expected it to be.” Tsukauchi says. “I’m more surprised it took you nearly 12 years to die.”

“10.” Shouta replies. “I died two years ago.”

“I stand corrected.” Tsukauchi shrugs. “Anyway. This Necromancer… Is his name Midoriya Izuku?”

Shouta is surprised, not about Tsukauchi figuring it out. As he said, a Necromancy quirk is pretty unique, so anyone with access to the quirk register would be able to put two and two together. He’s surprised that Tsukauchi knew about it beforehand.

“You know this name?” Shouta asks.

Tsukauchi suddenly seems to have aged 10 years as he gives the longest sigh Shouta has ever heard.

“A few months after his… ‘disappearance.’” The man frowns. “A woman claiming to be his aunt came to the station demanding that we find him. Bakugou Mitsuki. She’s the one who reported him missing, and thanks to her we managed to convict both of the parents. They will be in prison for a long time.” He looks at Shouta with a miserable expression. “The woman has been going to my precinct every week since then to demand updates on the case. She’s very loud and abrasive. The only reason the boy was not declared dead after being missing for so long was because she would have blown up the police station if I had even suggested such a thing. And I’m not exaggerating.”

“The kid never mentioned having any family besides his abusive father and neglectful mother.” Shota says.

“They’re not related by blood.” Tsukauchi replies. “But the woman really sees him as family.”

“He was only six when he was abandoned.” Shouta says. “And he has been avoiding thinking about his past. Honestly, he might not even remember them. As far as I know, his mother kept him isolated after his quirk manifested.”

“I’ll keep it a secret from her.” Tsukauchi sighs. “But at least we can close his case now.”

“Back to the subject.” Gran Torino says. “So, the boy used his quirk to bring Toshinori back. Why was he even at one of All for One’s labs?”

“The HPSC hired him.” Shouta replies. “They wanted the kid to destroy the lab. Though I suspect they either knew about All Might, or at least that there was something important there. The way they went with the job was very weird, even for them.”

“Something I’ll look into.” Nedzu says.

“Okay. This explains what happened.” Tsukauchi says. “What do you intend to do now, Toshi?”

“It’s been two years already.” Yagi says. “It’s past the time for the Symbol of Peace to return.”

“I know we won’t be able to stop you.” Gran Torino says. “Gods know you’re too hard headed to listen to others.”

“But, we’ll have to limit your time.” Nedzu says. Yagi opens his mouth to protest, but Nedzu interrupts him. “Now, Yagi, there are three reasons for that. Number one. Society is just starting to recover from losing the Symbol of Peace, we don’t want everyone to get too dependent on you again. Number two. If you start heroing 24/7 due to your now infinite stamina, you’ll set an even more unreachable standard for heroes. And number three. As much as I want to believe All for One is dead, there’s no corpse. So, on the off chance he’s alive, we want him to think you’re weakened.”

Yagi frowns at him, trying to find a way to argue, but he can’t, and Shouta knows that. Nedzu raised excellent points.

“Fine…” Yagi relents.

“Great!” Nedzu chirps. “So, for starters. You should limit your hours to eight hours a day at maximum. With time, we’ll be lowering it to create the illusion that you’re getting weaker. OH! Also, I have something that might help you keep the disguise.” Nedzu reaches into his suit and pulls out a wrist clock. “Power Loader finished this. I call it an Image Inducer.” He puts it on and presses a few buttons, then suddenly, his image flickers, and instead of the Rat, there’s a tiny human. “Hello? Am I an adult? A kid? I’m Nedzu!” He messes with the clock again and turns back to normal.

Honestly, this thing would be great for undercover operations. He’ll need to ask Power Loader for one of those later.

“This will actually be very helpful.” Yagi says, accepting the device and putting it on his wrist. He starts messing with it. “If All for One is still alive, he will expect me to at least have a hole in my stomach. And considering I would have been missing for two years…” 

Yagi’s image flickers, and in his place is a tall blonde man with hollow cheeks and a skeletal frame. The similarities are all there for those who know where to look, but no one would ever say that this man is All Might.

“Huh, neat.” Shouta mutters.

“Just remember it’s only a hologram, if someone were to touch you, they would still feel your muscles.” Nedzu replies. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem, but be careful.”

“Noted.” Yagi nods.

“Now, there’s one more thing I’d like to discuss.” Nedzu says, with his grin becoming a lot more feral. “I’ve been wanting to meet Necromancer for a while. And I’d like to enlist your help with it.”

Shouta draws in a breath out of habit. He’s worried about the Problem Child meeting the Rat, sure he is. But that’s not the thought that brings him near panic. No, Mittens is the one he absolutely can’t allow to meet Nedzu. These two together? They will overthrow the government and become the new world overlords in less than a week.

“I’ll… Talk to him. But I make no promises.” Shouta says. “If he doesn’t want to meet you, I won’t force him.”

“Good enough for me.” Nedzu shrugs. “Oh, tell him that a certain folder about a certain flaming trash can was very much appreciated.”

Oh, of course, Nedzu has hired Izuku before. And since Izuku never mentioned it, he can only assume the Rat is a VIP. Which means he knows Guildmaster Star personally. Great…

“I’ll pass the message.” Shouta nods and gets up. “Well, if there’s nothing else to discuss, I’ll be on my way.” He turns to Yagi. “Also, you have his phone, send him a message when you get a phone. Izuku will want to keep contact.”

Yagi nods at him with a smile.

“Of course. I have to admit I also feel compelled to stay in touch with the boy.” Yagi replies. “I’m really glad that such a powerful and dangerous quirk is in the hands of someone like Young Izuku.” He frowns. “I’ll keep an eye on him. If All for One is still alive, he will be interested in a quirk like that.”

“The Doctor Kurogiri mentioned is a problem.” Shouta says. “He certainly knows that Izuku brought you back. Won't he tell All for One if he's alive.”

“Not quite.” Yagi replies. “Knowing All for One, the man doesn’t like failures. So I doubt this doctor will inform him of what happened.  Doing so would be a death sentence for him. So until something else puts Izuku on All for One’s radar, he’ll be safe.” The man grins. “And of course, even if he knows, I intend to keep his focus on me.”

Shouta nods at him.

“We’ll be on alert.” He says. “But for now, my patrol starts in 20 minutes. So I need to go. See you around, Yagi.”

Having said that, Shouta leaves the meeting room. He really hopes the man is right, but even if he’s not, Shouta will make sure to keep Izuku safe. No megalomaniac villain will lay a finger on his kid.

Shouta stops for a moment. When did he start thinking of Izuku as his kid? Even more surprising is that he doesn’t mind this train of thought. Huh, interesting.

Shaking his head, Shouta heads out for his patrol. He can think more about that later.

Chapter Text

Yagi watches as Aizawa leaves the meeting room. Eraserhead wasn’t someone he ever expected to get along with. The two are polar opposites both in personality and their views on the world of heroics. Yet, both seem to be on the same page when it comes to Young Izuku.

For a moment, Yagi thought about asking the young boy to inherit One for All, but after the boy explained how his quirk works, Yagi decided it’s a bad idea. One for All is a quirk that could cause catastrophic damage to the user if used their body isn’t strong enough to handle it. And according to Young Izuku, he has a very fragile body due to his quirk.

Well, Yagi has all the time in the world to find the perfect successor now, so he shouldn’t hurry up on that. Shaking his head, he turns back to Naomasa.

“So, I expected Mirai to be here as well.” Yagi says.

“I’ll be honest, Yagi. Mirai took your disappearance pretty badly.” Naomasa replies. “He’s running the Might Tower in your absence, and he threw himself completely at work.”

“The brat is overworking himself so much.” Gran says. “We sent an email about this meeting, and his answer was. ‘I have no time for another meeting about finding All Might. We had a lot of those already and found nothing.’”

“We sent a clarifying email.” Naomasa says. “But I don’t think he checked his email since then.”

“Oh, Mirai.” Yagi sighs. “Well, I guess I should pay him a visit soon.”

“You’ll have time for that.” Nedzu says. “For now, we should start planning your comeback.”

“Alright. What do you have in mind?” All Might asks.

“Well, we have a certain villain on the run.” Nedzu says. “A very dangerous one.”

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --.

Shouta walks home with all limbs in the right places and his head on his neck. See? He can finish a patrol without losing an arm. Or a leg. Or his head. Well, he was stabbed a few times, but that’s to be expected. Honestly, it’s just something he would need a few stitches if he was still alive, nothing serious.

He was a bit distracted as he walked, so he almost missed a soft sound coming from the road. But despite how weak it was, Shouta would recognize the sound anywhere. A meow.

Shouta runs to the road, looking for the source of the sound, and his heart sinks at what he finds. A cat on the floor, gravely wounded. It seems they were run over by a car. The cat is barely alive and appears to be in immense pain. Under normal circumstances, Shouta is sure there would be nothing he could do. But to his luck, there is one person who can save the cat.

Shouta scoops the cat in his arms, carefully not to aggravate their wounds, and runs back home as fast as possible. As soon as he arrives, he starts knocking on Izuku’s door. Maybe a bit too hard. They’ll probably have noise complaints in the morning.

A few seconds later, Frank opens the door with a raised eyebrow. He sees the cat in Shouta’s arms and sighs, gesturing him to enter.

“Of course, the first time you actually come to me is because of a cat.” Frank says. “Give me the little fella. I’ll see what I can do for them.”

Shouta gently passes the cat to Frank, who walks into his Lab. As Shouta waits, the door to Mittens’ Lab opens, and the cat walks out. She notices Shouta there and runs to him.

“Shouta!” She says excitedly as she jumps in his arms. Shouta holds her and starts scratching behind her ears. “I missed you. I’m almost done with my new invention. Do you want to-” She stops for a second and starts sniffing Shouta. “I can’t believe this! You cheater! Whore!” She yells, jumping down from his arms, and runs back to her office.

“What was that?” Shouta asks, confused as he looks at the door Mittens just slammed shut.

Frank comes back a moment later with the cat in his arms, now looking perfectly healthy. The only evidence of what happened being the blood matted in the cat’s gray fur.

“There we go. The little guy is fine now.” Frank says, giving Shouta the cat back. “Now, it’s your turn.”

“I’m fine.” Shouta dismisses him.

“Yeah, sure.” Frank replies, grabbing his arm and activating his quirk. “Just because you can’t die doesn’t mean you need to try so much to test it.” He looks around. “I thought I heard Mittens. Wasn’t she there?”

“I have no idea what just happened here.” Shouta says.

“WHORE!” Mittens yells from her office.

Shouta blinks and looks at Frank, who just shrugs at him.

“No one understands her.” He says.

Shouta spares one more glance at Mittens’ door before returning to his apartment with the cat in his arms. He’s not in a position to adopt the cat, but he can foster him for a while. For now, the little guy definitely needs a good bath to get this blood off his fur. Then he can find a good home for the little guy.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. 

“ We are live from downtown Tokyo with more news from what is probably the worst villain attack in decades. ” 

The news report shows the aerial view from a helicopter. Several buildings are demolished, and others are on the verge of collapse. Even without being in the center of the chaos, you can feel the ground shaking. 

“ The villain known as Titan started this attack just a few minutes ago. This villain is known for terrorist acts in urban areas. His quirk, Tremor, allows him to make the environment vibrate, essentially causing earthquakes. Heroes were dispatched to fight the villain, but most were defeated. Currently, the number two hero, Endeavor, is engaged in a fight with Titan, but they are in a stalemate. And as Endeavor’s flames fly astray, and Titan keeps causing earthquakes, the ones suffering are the civilians. ”

Izuku watches with a frown what is happening. The news coverage shows a very serious situation that he’s unsure the heroes there can deal with. He’s particularly upset with how few heroes are helping evacuate civilians. Most of them are focused only on fighting the villains.

“Should we help?” Izuku asks, looking at Ronin. “We could help bring the civilians to safety.”

“Well…” Ronin ponders for a few seconds. “It’ll be dangerous with so many heroes present, but maybe we could-”

“ What’s that? ” The reporter asks as something is seen flying toward the area of the attack. “ It looked like a person? But not even Hawks can fly that fast. What could- ” Another thing flies from the area, this time landing in the center of a busy street. The camera zooms into it, and to everyone’s surprise, it’s the unconscious figure of Titan. “That’s Titan. Someone defeated the villain. But who? ”

“ Hey, look! ” The cameraman says, pointing ahead. A blur flies between the collapsed buildings at inhuman speeds, each time bringing more and more civilians to safety.

“ Who’s that? They already saved over 30 civilians. ” The reporter says. “ Huh. Deja Vu… This scene is so familiar. ”

“ Yeah. ” The cameraman replies. “It’s like that video. ”

“ That’s right! It’s like watching- ” Before the reporter could finish the sentence, a booming voice echoes through the streets.

“ Have no fear! ” The voice says. “ Why? Because I AM HERE! And I won’t leave again! ”

“ That line. It can’t be. ” The reporter says, and it’s evident she’s getting emotional. “ Quick, zoom in! ”

The cameraman does as said, zooming in on the figure carrying the civilians to safety with extreme speed and precision.

“ It’s him… ” The cameraman says.

“ He’s back… ” The reporter adds, tearing up. “ ALL MIGHT IS BACK! ”

The previously silent streets are now filled with cheers for the Symbol of Peace. Izuku can hear people cheering in the apartment as well. His neighbors upstairs, downstairs, and even in the building opposite. It’s like the entire Japan is cheering for the return of All Might.

“Well, I guess we don’t need to help in the end.” Ronin says.

“Well, he certainly knows how to make an entrance.” Dabi mutters as he watches. “And I’m sure Endeawhore won’t be happy.”

“Fuck Endeavor.” Izuku says and looks around. “By the way, where’s Mittens and Frank?”

“At the office.” Dabi says. “Mittens said she wanted to work on Frank’s grenade launcher today.”

“Wait…” Ronin says. “Mittens and Frank are unsupervised…”

“Working on explosives?” Izuku finishes.

Izuku and Ronin exchange a panicked look and immediately jump from the couch, running to Mittens’ Office. Unfortunately, they get there one second too late. Just as they open the door, a huge explosion echoes through the apartment, followed by a smokescreen. Once the smoke settles, there’s a huge hole in the wall that separates their apartment from Shouta’s. Hitoshi is on his bed, reading a book and wearing headphones, completely oblivious to the explosion that just happened.

The smoke gets to Hitoshi, and he coughs. He raises his eyes from his book, seeing Mittens, Frank, Izuku, and Ronin covered in soot. He eyes the hole in the wall, then the group, then Mittens. This is the exact moment that his dads enter his room as well.

“Does that mean Mittens and I are roommates now?” He asks.

Izuku sighs and looks at Ronin.

“I’ll start looking into a new place…”

“I’ll find the landlord and pay for the damages.” Ronin replies.

By the end of the day, Izuku and his zombie troupe are evicted from the apartment. Not that he blames the landlord. Maybe it’s time to look into a more permanent home. It’s not like they don’t have money. Honestly, between Frank’s healing work, and the group’s mercenary work, the truth is that they are rich.

To make things faster and easier, Izuku reaches Guildmaster Star for help. And the man, unsurprisingly, points them in the direction of an old mansion that has been abandoned for many years, as well as a construction company that can restore it.

“So, why is this place so cheap?” Izuku asks as he walks with the Star Guild Master, inspecting the mansion with the head of the construction company that is inspecting the mansion to make the budget for the restoration of the place.

“The owners were an old aristocratic family.” Star explains. “But they were all killed in this mansion. The culprit was never found. Some say it was a rival family, others that the patriarch snapped and killed his family and then himself.” He shrugs. “The whole family is buried, but the butler’s body was never found. Many believe this place is haunted. Hence no one wants to live here.”

“So, this place is cheap because people are superstitious?” Izuku asks, and Star nods. “Well, lucky me.”

The tour doesn’t take much longer, and Izuku meets with the two owners of the company. Ronin and Star go with him.

“Well, the good news is that the place is in a surprisingly good state.” The woman says.

“In short. We mainly need to change the tiles and floors, as well as a complete interior paint job. The plumbing and electrical wiring are in good condition, but just in case, I would recommend a replacement as well.” The man adds.

“Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Uraraka.” Izuku nods. “How long do you think it’ll take to finish everything?”

“I’d say we can finish everything in about 4 months.” Mr. Uraraka says. “We have a few people in the company whose quirks can accelerate the job a lot. So, as long as we have the right materials, it shouldn’t take much more than that.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to stay in the Union Hotel meanwhile.” Izuku says. “I’m counting on you guys.” He says with a smile.

“The pleasure is all ours.” Mr. Uraraka replies, extending his hand for Izuku to shake. 

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. 

Ronin is not a jealous man. He certainly is not. But there are certain things in life that he doesn’t like to share. Like his weapons, for one. Or Izuku, for that matter. Since he was revived, Ronin has taken a parental role with the boy, and he certainly doesn’t mind that. And it is exactly because he cares so much for Izuku that he knows what is the right thing to do about the boy, even if he hates this solution.

With a much heavier than necessary sigh, he knocks on Aizawa’s door. Due to last week’s explosion, Aizawa and his family are also having to stay in a hotel for the time being. Izuku plans to invite them to live with him when the renovation of the mansion is finished, and Ronin is sure that they will accept.

A few seconds later, Aizawa opens. It’s his day off. Izuku and Hitoshi went with Yamada to a park, so he’s alone, which is perfect for what Ronin wants to discuss.

“What do you want?” Aizawa asks.

“I have something to discuss about Izuku.” Ronin replies. “And I think you’ll be interested in it.”

Shouta sighs and walks back in, leaving the door open. Taking it for the invitation it is, Ronin follows him and sits down on the couch, accepting a coffee cup. No one can say Aizawa isn’t a good host.

“So, what’s about the problem child?” Aizawa asks.

“Did you know his family name is still Midoriya despite none of us calling him that?” Ronin asks.

“Is that so?” Aizawa raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he hates that name, so no one calls him that. But he doesn’t want to just change it either.” Ronin sighs. “Technically speaking, any of the adults could adopt him, but we technically don’t exist, and while Mittens could technically hack into the government and get us IDs, but we don’t want to risk people looking into him and uncovering things. So…”

Ronin can see the gears turning in Aizawa’s head.

“You want me to adopt him?” Shouta asks.

“You’re alive. Technically.” Ronin says. “You’re a hero. You have adopted before. Mittens can put Izuku under your name without raising any suspicions. Besides, something tells me that in the future, Izuku will need an actual ID.” He explains with a frown.

“Despite being your idea, you don’t seem happy about it.” Shouta points. 

“No, I’m not.” Ronin replies. “He might be getting your family name, but he’s still my son.”

“Is that so?” Aizawa gives him a smirk. “You don’t even exist. I do. He’s mine!”

“He’s been my kid for years!” Ronin replies. “Just because you have a valid, legal, authentic identity, and are about to become his legal parent, doesn’t mean you can take my kid!”

“Wanna meet me in the pit, Fighter?” Aizawa challenges.

“Bring it on, Berserker!” Ronin replies, jumping from the couch.

Ronin pulls his Tonfas at the same time Aizawa readies his capture weapon. Both are about to jump into a fight when the door opens, and Hitoshi, Hizashi, and Izuku enter. The three freeze looking at them.

“Do I want to know?” Izuku asks.

“Probably not, Little Listener.” Hizashi replies, then turns to glare at them. “If you’re gonna fight, do it outside.”

Ronin and Aizawa keep glaring at each other as they start walking out.

“How about not fighting?” Izuku suggests.

“Not a chance!” Ronin and Aizawa say at the same time.

Izuku just raises his hands in surrender. The boy is clever enough to know that he can’t stop them.

“Just don’t break anything.” Izuku says, walking out. Then he puts his head back inside. “I mean both properties and bones.”

Chapter Text

All the news reports in Japan buzz with excitement and anticipation. The headlines scream with a single name that resonates throughout the nation—All Might. After two long years of absence, the symbol of peace has returned, and the impact is palpable.

The public’s reaction is nothing short of remarkable. It’s like a wave of hope has swept through the streets, revitalizing the spirit of the people. The mere announcement of All Might’s return ripples through society, rekindling a collective faith in the heroes who protect them.

Gone is the heavy cloud of uncertainty that had settled over Japan during All Might’s absence. The public had gradually come to terms with the idea that their greatest hero might be gone forever, leaving a void in their hearts and a sense of vulnerability in their lives.

But now, with the news of All Might’s return, the atmosphere shifts. It’s like a beacon has been lit, guiding the way out of the darkness. People walk the streets with a renewed sense of confidence, and their trust in heroes reignited.

Crime rates plummet across the country. Criminals who once thrived in the shadows now find themselves facing a united front of justice. The mere presence of All Might is enough to instill fear in their hearts, dissuading them from committing acts of villainy.

Everywhere, conversations buzz with enthusiasm and gratitude. The return of All Might represents not just a powerful symbol but a tangible reminder that heroes exist to protect and serve. The public’s faith in heroes is restored, and they stand united in their support for those who dedicate their lives to safeguarding the innocent.

And in the Might Tower, a man with green and yellow hair, wearing glasses and a white suit, repeatedly watches the recording of the hero’s return. Frame by frame, he analyzes the video, trying to be sure if the man on the screen is, in fact, his great friend and mentor or if he is an impostor. It should be impossible. 

Weeks ago, Mirai used his quirk on Tsukauchi, and Foresight showed him that the police would find a clue to Toshinori’s whereabouts, but the news was that he was dead. That’s why when he received an email requesting a meeting regarding All Might, he assumed it was about this, and so he made an excuse about having too much work to avoid the meeting. He didn’t think he could handle receiving the news of his friend’s death a second time.

Foresight has never been wrong. Once seen, the future is set in stone, but this video completely contradicts the future Mirai saw. This can only mean one thing. The All Might on the videos was an impostor. And so Mirai started watching the video, again and again, to try and find proof of the impersonation. Yet, as Mirai watches the recording, he can recognize everything. His friend’s movements, mannerisms, catchphrases, and even quirk. 

And that is the undeniable point. One for All is a unique quirk and easily recognizable for those who know what to look for. Mirai has worked alongside All Might for years. He wouldn’t mistake One for All. This means only one thing. That’s really All Might. Toshinori is back, and he somehow shattered the future Mirai saw.

Mirai suddenly remembers that he has been ignoring his email since Tsukauchi and Sorahiko tried to contact him, and when he opens it, he finds a follow-up email after his last message. Opening the email, he reads exactly what he has been investigating for the last three days. Toshinori is back.

Mirai is about to pull out his phone to call them and ask about it when he hears a knock on his door.

“Sir.” He hears Bubble Girl’s voice. “You have a visitor.”

“I don’t have time for that.” Mirai replies. “If it’s not urgent, tell whoever it is to come back another day.”

“I think you’ll want to see this one, Sir.” Bubble Girl insists. Mirai sighs at her insistence.

“And who is this vis-”

Before he could finish his question, he hears heavy and familiar footsteps approaching.

“I AM HERE… ” Mirai would recognize this voice anywhere. “ TO SEE MY OLD FRIEND!!!” Toshinori opens the door and enters, standing in front of him.

“Toshi…” Mirai mutters. “It’s really you…”

“I’m sorry for taking so long to come back.” Toshinori says. “But I am back now, my friend. And I don’t intend to leave again.” He looks around the office and gives Mirai a big grin. “I always knew I could count on you. You did a great job in keeping this place going.”

Mirai gives the man, his hero, a smile and nods.

“It really is you.” He says. “It’s great to have you back.”

“We have a lot to catch up on. Are you free?” Toshinori asks.

“I am.” Mirai nods. “We can talk now.”

“I’ll bring tea for you two.” Bubble Girl, who Mirai hadn’t realized was still there, says with a warm smile.

The woman leaves, and a few minutes later, she returns with a tea set ready. She sets everything and then leaves, giving Mirai and Toshinori privacy to talk. Mirai has the feeling that he’ll hear a lot of complicated information. But no matter what he hears, it’s good to have his friend back.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. 

Izuku stands in front of UA’s huge gates. Everything in this place looks huge. But unlike Endeavor’s agency which was huge and practically empty, this place doesn’t look like an attempt by someone insecure to overcompensate for something. Every corner of this school has a purpose, even if it is only intimidation. Well, at least if the school has a giant student, they will have no problem getting in.

Next to Izuku is Shouta, who is apparently now Izuku’s legal guardian. Well, he doesn’t care much about that. He’s definitely happy to get rid of the name Midoriya. Aizawa sounds much better. However, does this mean that he should start calling the hero Dad? What about Hizashi? Not to mention Ronin. Suddenly, Izuku realizes that he has a lot of father figures in his life.

Shaking his head, he decides to leave that for future Izuku. Maybe he could ask Ronin’s opinion on the matter later. For now, Shouta doesn’t seem to mind that Izuku still uses his given name. Actually, Izuku still doesn’t know why the two were fighting the other day. Another worry for future Izuku.

At the moment, what he has to worry about is why Principal Nedzu wants to meet him. Well, he’s obviously the VIP Izuku did that job at the Endeavor agency two years ago - and Izuku wonders how Shouto is. He hasn’t seen the boy again since that day - but this doesn’t explain what he wants with Izuku.

With the visitor pass securely displayed around his neck, Izuku trails behind Shouta as they make their way toward the Principal’s office. The hallways of UA Academy are bustling with activity, with students rushing past them on their way to class or engaging in animated conversations. A few students stop to look at them, no doubt curious about their Aizawa-Sensei being with a kid.

“I’m serious, Problem Child. No world domination. Not until you’re at least 18.” The tone in Shouta’s voice shows he’s only half-joking. 

“So, the problem isn’t world domination, but my age?” Izuku raises an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips

“The problem is that I don’t trust Nedzu with a young genius he can mold.” He explains, with a sigh, his words laced with a hint of protectiveness. “Nedzu is not bad, just… Too much. And until you’re 18, you’re my responsibility. I’ll make sure to shield you from any influence he may have on you. Here we are.”

They halt in front of the office door, the moment pregnant with anticipation. Shouta’s gaze lingers on the door for a few seconds, a hint of weariness crossing his face.

“What are we waiting for?” Izuku inquires, curiosity shining in his eyes.

Shouta’s expression remains serious as he raises his hand, ready to knock. However, before his hand can make contact with the wooden surface, the door swings open of its own accord. 

“He always does this shit.” Shouta mutters in irritation. “Thinks it’s funny.”

Izuku chuckles softly. He heard of the peculiarities of the school’s enigmatic Principal. But seeing by himself is different and amusing. Despite the unconventional entrance, he feels a sense of readiness washing over him.

They step into the office, entering a space that embodies authority and intellect. The room is adorned with bookshelves filled with volumes of knowledge, and the desk at the center bears signs of meticulous organization. In the center, on an oversized office chair, is the white creature wearing a suit.

As Izuku walks deeper into the room, Principal Nedzu’s sharp eyes fixate on him, tracking his every movement. The air crackles with an unspoken challenge, but Izuku refuses to back down. He meets Nedzu’s gaze head-on, holding eye contact with unwavering determination. He knows the power of a strong stare and has had his fair share of inhuman eyes of a mad genius directed at him. Neither of them is willing to yield, locked in a silent battle of wills.

Then suddenly, after a few seconds that actually felt like hours, a forced cough snaps the creature and the kid out of the staring match.

“Nope. Not doing that. I’m out of here.” Shouta declares, his exasperation evident in his tone. “No world domination.” He points a finger at Izuku for emphasis before swiftly turning on his heels and exiting the room.

Izuku watches Shouta’s departure with an amused smile, finding his dramatic exit both predictable and entertaining.

“He’s so dramatic.” Izuku remarks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“And a spoilsport.” Principal Nedzu chuckles softly, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. “But I do think we can leave world domination for an eventual date. For now, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Necromancer.”

“Likewise, Principal Nedzu.” Izuku bows respectfully in response. 

Nedzu’s small form appears even more mischievous as he gestures toward the chair in front of his desk. 

“Please, have a seat.” He invites, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. “I must admit, you are the first person in many years who has managed to hold my gaze for more than five seconds.”

Izuku walks towards the chair and takes a seat, his posture poised and attentive. He ponders about the statement for a few seconds.

“As surprising as this might sound, this isn’t my first staring match with a super-intelligent animal.” Izuku replies with a wry smile.

“Interesting.” Nedzu’s grin widens, clearly intrigued by Izuku’s remark. “Tea?” He offers, gesturing towards a steaming teapot on his desk.

Izuku’s eyes spark in interest. He loves tea.

“Sure, do you have Jasmine?” Izuku asks.

Nedzu’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he pours the fragrant jasmine tea into a delicate cup.

“You have good taste, Necromancer.” He comments, passing the cup to Izuku. “Let’s delve into the matters at hand while we enjoy this delightful brew.”

“Of course.” Izuku replies, taking a sip of the fragrant tea. “Wow, that’s amazing.” He mutters before shaking his head. “I’m curious why the Principal of UA wanted to meet me. I don’t think you’re looking to hire me again since Guildmaster Star can handle that.”

“You’re right, Necromancer. It was simply my curiosity” Nedzu’s eyes gleam with intrigue as he leans forward. “You’ve caught my attention with your accomplishments. Joining the Silver Star guild at the tender age of six and never failing a single job. Eraserhead himself respects your skills. That’s a very hard feat to accomplish.”

"Eraserhead is much more skilled than I am." Izuku points. "I can't even land a hit on him whenever we train together."

“That’s true, and I would be very surprised if this wasn’t the case. But Eraserhead has over twice your age and almost ten years of experience on his side.” Nedzu lets the statement hang in the air for a few seconds. “However, for someone your age, you surpass most first and even second-year students in skill. Aizawa respects you because he sees your potential.”

Izuku’s cheeks flush with a hint of pink as he tries to conceal his face behind the teacup, taking a sip to compose himself. 

“Thank you, sir.” He murmurs gratefully.

“Your skills certainly speak for yourself.” Nedzu’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he acknowledges Izuku’s talents. “But I’d like to witness your intellect in action. Would you be willing to indulge me in a small test?”

Curiosity flickers in Izuku’s eyes as he tilts his head, his interest piqued. 

“A test?” He echoes, a hint of uncertainty seeping into his voice. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been in a formal school setting. But I’ll give it a try.”

“No need to worry about that.” Nedzu waves away Izuku’s concerns with a dismissive gesture. “Just do your best.”

With a nod of agreement, Izuku watches intently as Nedzu retrieves a stack of papers seemingly out of thin air, the unexpectedness of the gesture leaving him momentarily astonished. The papers are placed in front of Izuku, accompanied by a pen, signaling the start of the test.

Shrugging off his initial surprise, Izuku focuses his attention on the questions before him. The test covers a wide range of subjects, from mathematics and science to biology, chemistry, history, geography, quirk history, quirk science, logic, and analysis. It’s a diverse array of challenges that invigorate Izuku’s mind, reminding him of the joy he once found in academic pursuits.

For the next few hours, Izuku immerses himself in the test, diligently and swiftly tackling each question to the best of his abilities. The time seems to fly by as he pours his knowledge and analytical skills onto the pages, reveling in the exhilarating feeling of taking a test once again.

As he completes the final question, a sense of satisfaction fills Izuku’s being. With a contented smile, he hands the completed test back to Principal Nedzu, grateful for the opportunity to engage his mind in such an enjoyable manner.

Nedzu quickly begins grading the test papers while engaging in conversation with Izuku. His eyes scan the questions as he speaks.

“Quite interesting.” Nedzu remarks. “You mentioned that you haven’t been in a formal school environment for a long time.”

“That’s right, Sir. Since I was six.” Izuku confirms.

“And who has been teaching you during this time?” Curiosity shines in Nedzu’s eyes as he continues. 

Izuku takes a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. 

“Chihiro is my tutor. But before meeting her, I studied on my own.” he explains.

“Oh? And why’s that.” Nedzu leans forward, genuinely interested.

“Well, Dabi - you might know him as Arsonist - was thirteen when he died.” Izuku explains. “While he has street smarts, academically, he isn’t the sharpest.”

“The same can be applied to Katashi and Ronin - Barbarian and Fighter.” Izuku adds. “Ronin is a great mentor when it comes to training and weapons. But he is definitely not capable of teaching me how to solve an equation. Katashi is a good man, but it’s obvious he has never been an intellectual.”

“Frank - Fixer - is very smart, but most of his knowledge is related to medicine, and I already know how to set a bone back in place.” Izuku remembers his first-aid lessons pretty well.

“And while Mittens - or Artificer - is certainly a genius, as a teacher, she’s a great inventor.” He chuckles at the memory of the purple cat trying to teach Izuku how to build a robot. The lesson didn’t end well.

“Chihiro - or Ranger - used to tutor homeless kids in her area, and she has proven to be a patient and dedicated teacher.” He explains with a warm smile. “She’s also one of the few who retained her memories after I revived her, so this certainly helps. Of course, now there’s Shouta, Oboro, and Yagi as well, but they came into the picture later. I could have asked Shouta or Hizashi for help, but they already have 5 jobs between the two of them. I’d rather not add any more to their load.”

Nedzu nods, satisfied by his explanation, and sets the papers on the table.

“Well, Necromancer, I must say, your performance is quite remarkable,” Nedzu states as he pours another cup of tea for Izuku. “Considering the length of time you went without a formal teacher, your knowledge surpasses that of your peers by about a year and a half. Your analytical and strategic thinking abilities are particularly outstanding, although there is room for improvement in subjects like geography and mathematics.”

“I understand.” Izuku nods, acknowledging the areas he can work on. “But, sir, what was the purpose of this test?” He asks, just before taking a sip of his tea.

“It’s quite simple.” Nedzu’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he leans back in his chair. “I would like to take over your education from this point forward.”

This statement catches Izuku off guard, causing him to have a slight coughing fit as he spits out his tea. Recovering from the surprise, he stares at Nedzu with wide eyes. 

“Excuse me?” He manages to say, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“You possess a remarkable intellect, Necromancer.” Nedzu chuckles softly, savoring the moment. “As a teacher, I feel compelled to help nurture your talents. So, what do you say? Will you allow me to take on the role of your mentor and guide your education?”

Izuku ponders over the question for several moments. While Chihiro is a great teacher for him, she’s not a formal teacher. There’s a lot she can’t teach him. But Nedzu is the smartest creature in the world, and he has many years of experience in that area. The pros certainly outweigh the cons, but it’s been so long since Izuku has been in a formal school setting. He can’t help but feel a little nervous.

“What would you teach me, sir?” Izuku asks, his voice tinged with both curiosity and a touch of nervousness.

Nedzu leans forward, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Oh, where do I begin?” He replies, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I would start by building upon your existing knowledge, helping you further develop your analytical and strategic thinking skills. We would dive deeper into various subjects, exploring topics like advanced mathematics, critical thinking, problem-solving, and even quirks. I believe there’s much to learn about the fascinating world of quirks, their mechanics, and their potential applications. Additionally, I would provide guidance in areas such as leadership, teamwork, and communication, crucial skills for a hero.”

Izuku listens attentively, his apprehension gradually giving way to a growing excitement. But as he hears the last part, the smile that was creeping on his face fades away, a frown taking its place.

“I can’t be a hero, Sir.” He says wistfully.

“Oh? And why do you believe that?” Nedzu leans forward, his keen eyes studying Izuku’s face with curiosity.

Izuku takes a moment to collect his thoughts before responding.

“Sir, I’m a mercenary.” Izuku points, his words laced with a mix of resignation and acceptance. “The Silver Star Guild may offer me protection, but it doesn’t change the number of crimes I committed. Not to mention my quirk. What kind of hero has a necromancy quirk? Everyone used to call me a villain. Neither heroes nor the public would accept me, Sir. Yes, being a hero used to be my dream, but it’s just not realistic.” He gives Nedzu a smile. “Besides, I am quite happy where I am.”

Nedzu listens attentively, recognizing the weight of Izuku’s words. He takes a moment to absorb the young hero’s perspective before responding. 

“I understand your concerns, Necromancer.” He says, his voice filled with empathy. “The world can be unforgiving and quick to label individuals. But it’s important to remember that heroes are not defined solely by society’s standards or the limitations of their quirks. True heroism lies in the strength of one’s character, the choices they make, and the impact they have on others.” He gives Izuku a grin. “You a hero with necromancy quirk is not realistic. People said the same about an animal becoming a hero.”

“I understand your point, Sir. But I really don’t think I can become a hero.” Izuku states, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. He shakes his head as if trying to dismiss any lingering doubts. “But thank you for believing in me. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Nedzu’s gaze softens as he listens to Izuku’s words. He leans forward, his voice gentle yet determined. 

“You haven’t wasted my time at all, Necromancer.” He reassures. “Whether or not you choose to pursue the hero path, it doesn’t diminish your incredible potential. My offer to teach you still stands. I see a sharp mind in you, and I want to help you nurture it.”

Izuku ponders Nedzu’s words for a moment, contemplating the possibilities that lie ahead. Eventually, he reaches a decision and nods resolutely. 

“Ok, Sir.” He agrees, extending his hand towards Nedzu. “I’m in your hands.”

“And you won’t regret it.” Nedzu replies, shaking his hands. “You can call me Nedzu-Sensei from now on.”

“And you can call me, Izuku.” Izuku replies, his voice filled with determination. “I’m here as your student, not a mercenary.”

And despite his lingering doubts, Izuku can’t help but think he made the right choice.

Chapter Text

The day started relatively quietly. Well, as calm as it could be in Izuku’s chaotic family. The necromancer awoke in the morning and found Hizashi cooking breakfast. Since they will be staying here for a while, they ended up renting one of the rooms equipped with a kitchen at the Silver Star Union Hotel.

Ronin and Chihiro went off somewhere. Mittens was playing with Dabi while she was still ignoring Shouta for some reason. Frank was playing a fighting game with Katashi while Hitoshi cheered him on. And Oboro was chatting with Shouta. Again, a normal morning in this family.

With Izuku, Hizashi, and Hitoshi being the only ones who still needed to eat, breakfast didn’t take long to be ready. And frankly, it should be a crime to make such yummy French toast.

It was while he was eating that a song started playing loudly.

Spooky, scary skeletons

Send shivers down your spine

Shrieking skulls will shock your soul

Seal your doom tonight

Spooky, scary skeletons

Speak with such a screech

You’ll shake and shudder in surprise

When you hear these zombies shriek

And well, Izuku soon realizes it’s his own phone ringing. Pulling it out of his pockets, he sends a glare at the skeleton - who obviously changed Izuku’s ringtone again - on the couch, laughing his ass off as the song plays, and checks who’s calling.

“Oh, it’s Mr Uraraka.” Izuku mutters and answers the call. “Good morning.”

“Good Morning, Midoriya-Kun.” Mr. Uraraka’s voice comes through the line.

“Actually, it’s Aizawa now.” Izuku corrects him. “I was adopted a few days ago.”

“Oh, congratulations.” Mr. Uraraka warmly responds.

“Thank you.” Izuku replies. “Can I help you?”

“It’s about the mansion.” Mr. Uraraka explains. “Guildmaster Star said I should call you if anything came up. Well, something came up.”

“Define ‘something.’” Izuku asks with a frown.

“Nothing that will compromise the reform or something like that.” Mr. Uraraka replies. “While we were working on the basement… Well, we found a secret passage. It looks like something straight out of a movie, and considering the story of this place….”

“No one went in to check because it might have traps.” Izuku sums it up.

“Pretty much.” Mr. Uraraka replies. “We didn’t want to risk anyone’s safety. Guildmaster Star thought it would be best to inform you first.”

“That’s a good call.” Izuku nods. “I’ll be over in about two hours to check. Just leave the passage for now.”

“Thank you, Aizawa-san.” Mr. Uraraka replies. “We’ll wait for you to arrive before making any further moves.” Then he hangs the call.

Izuku puts the phone down and turns around to look at the others. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him. Izuku looks at Dabi and grins.

“Hey, Dabi. How would you like to come with me to explore a secret passage possibly full of traps in a sketchy mansion?” Izuku says with a grin.

The skeleton’s eyes immediately sparkle.

“Count me in!” He says.

Izuku nods and looks around.

“For safety reasons, Frank should come too.” Izuku adds. “And Mittens, in case any traps can be hacked.”

Frank nods, putting the joystick down, and Mittens meows at him.

“You seem to have a solid plan, Little Listener.” Hizashi says with a smile. “But be careful.”

“I know. That’s why I’m bringing Frank.” Izuku replies with a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine.”

“Your party is a little unbalanced.” Shouta points. “Necromancer, Fixer, Arsonist, and Artificer. You don’t have a Tank.”

“That’s…. Actually fair.” Izuku mutters, looking down. “Katashi, can you come too?”

“Sure thing!” Katashi replies, setting down his joystick with a grin. “Let’s put this show on the road.”

“Finish breakfast first.” Hizashi points at the half-eaten toast on Izuku’s plate.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Izuku blushes and goes back to his food.

Izuku quickly finishes his breakfast and then goes to prepare everything he needs. About one hour later, everyone is suited up and ready to go. Oboro opens a portal for them, and they get to the mansion in less than a minute.

As soon as they get there, Mrs. Uraraka is waiting to guide them to the basement. The passage they found is very well hidden behind a bookshelf. How cliche. Had the Urarakas not tried to remove the bookshelf during the reform, they probably would have missed it. Izuku opens it and looks at the corridor, but it’s too dark to see anything.

“Let me go first.” Katashi says. “I’ll call you to follow me.”

“Hold on.” Dabi says and lights a flame in his right hand. “Take this with you.” Then he detaches the whole arm and gives Katashi so he can use it as a torch.

Izuku is sure he’s just being a show-off. He brought a lantern, after all. Katashi just takes the arm with a chuckle and starts walking in. He takes a few steps ahead, then calls the others.

“Okay. I think you can come in.” He says. “But be careful.”

With this, they start this dungeon crawl. The group has Katashi and Dabi in the front, with Katashi about five steps ahead of everyone. Izuku walks behind them, with Mittens on his shoulder, trying to sense any traps that might be there. And behind them is Frank, ready to heal anyone if necessary but especially focused on Izuku.

Dabi’s flame provides a small amount of light, casting eerie shadows on the spiderwebs and dust-filled corridors, hinting at the long years that these secret tunnels have been abandoned. 

“Wow, I really feel like I’m playing an RPG.” Dabi remarks, taking in the atmospheric surroundings.

“Yeah, I’m sure at any moment now we’ll find a—” Katashi suddenly steps on a pressure plate, activating a trap. “Trap…”

He reacts quickly, hardening his hands to grasp the swinging blade that lunges toward him, stopping it just inches from his face. The group all hold their breath, witnessing the close call.

“That’s very primitive.” Mittens comments. “Which means I can’t detect the traps here since there’s no electrical signal.”

“Alright, guys, watch your step.” Izuku advises with a sigh.

As they continue their exploration, it becomes apparent that the passageways are like a maze, leading them in circles. Dabi inadvertently triggers another trap as he trips over a tripwire, setting off an arrow trap.

“Oops.” Dabi says sheepishly, plucking out the arrow stuck in his skull.

Izuku can’t help but smile despite the situation. 

“Well, at least we’re learning as we go.” He says, trying to keep the mood light. Then clears his throat, taking a deeper voice. “Let’s proceed cautiously and stay focused. The secrets of this mansion won’t reveal themselves so easily.” He can’t help the giggle that escapes his mouth after he says that.

“Understood, wise leader.” Dabi replies with a chuckle.

Despite all their care, they end up setting off many more traps. Katashi falls into a pitfall trap. Dabi is rammed by a giant log. It takes a log to reassemble all his bones. Even Frank ends up being caught in a fire trap. It makes Izuku wonder just what the hell were the owners of this mansion trying to hide here.

They find many rooms that make the place look even more like an RPG dungeon. They literally find a room full of treasure chests filled with gold coins. Yes, gold coins, not yen. Perhaps the owners were simply medieval fantasy fanatics with too much money on their hands? Who knows?

Continuing on, they eventually find a round room filled with armor holding swords, axes, maces, and other heavy weapons. In the center is a pedestal with some sort of goblet on top. Katashi immediately goes to check while Dabi and Frank curiously look at the armors.

“Guys, I’m sensing something.” Mittens says. “There’s a trap in this room, an electric one.”

“Hey, the armors aren’t empty.” Frank says, peeking inside the helmet of one of them.

“I think there’s something inside the goblet.” Katashi adds, grabbing it.

“Wait, Katashi!” Mittens says, but it’s too late.

Katashi grabs the goblet to look inside, but as soon as he lifts it, a pressure plate goes off, and all the entrances to the room abruptly close, sealing them inside. The sudden activation of a mechanism causes the armors to come to life, startling everyone. The metal clanking fills the room as the armors start moving toward them, their weapons poised to attack.

“Now what?” Frank asks, readying his gun.

“Now we fight.” Izuku declares with determination as he grips his scythe and nods to Dabi. “Dabi, let’s turn up the heat!”

Dabi grins wickedly, rubbing his bony hands together before pointing them at the approaching armors. His blue flames engulf the armors, melting them with ease and exposing the mechanism hidden inside.

Mittens jumps on another one and activates her quirk, easily hacking it and using it to attack the other armors. Katashi hardens his fists and starts punching any armor he comes across. Frank shoots at the joints and folds, trying to aim for the most vulnerable parts of the armor since he doesn’t have his grenade launcher. And Izuku swings his scythe around, also aiming for the joints where he knows it will be easiest to tear off limbs.

The room becomes a flurry of motion and chaos as the group works together, their individual skills complementing each other. The armors’ attacks are met with skillful defense and counterattacks, each member of the group fighting with everything they’ve got.

Despite the initial surprise, the team’s coordination and determination begin to pay off. One by one, the armors are taken down, their mechanical bodies falling apart under the relentless assault.

After a fierce battle, the room finally falls silent as the last armor crumbles to the ground. The group stands victorious, catching their breath and assessing their surroundings. The room, once filled with animated threats, now returns to its lifeless, abandoned state.

“Well, that was something.” Izuku mutters turning to Katashi. “What was inside the goblet?”

“A key.” Katashi replies, holding up a huge golden key. “Who knows where to?”

They hear another mechanism go off, and the exits open again.

“Only one way to find out.” Izuku shrugs, and they continue.

Thankfully, this place seems to have been the last line of defense because after passing it, they find no more traps in the corridors. Actually, they only find a very long corridor and a huge door with a golden keyhole at the end.

“I’ll hazard a guess and say the key is for that door.” Dabi says.

“Well, whatever is inside here, the owner of the mansion really tried to hide.” Mittens adds.

“Then let’s stop wasting time and check out.” Frank says.

Katashi nods and uses the key they found to unlock the door. Then after giving Izuku a nod, he opens it slowly, and they enter carefully.

The room is dark, even darker than the corridors, and the first thing Izuku notices is a putrid smell along with a coppery one. Two smells that he’s unfortunately very familiar with.

“There’s light in this room.” Mittens says. “I can activate them.”

“Do it.” Izuku replies.

Mittens nods, and a second later, Izuku has to shield his eyes from the sudden burst of light in the room. Once his eyes are used to the light, he looks around, and to his dread, it seems like they are inside a torture room.

This definitely answers the question. Whoever made this place and the traps was a psychopath. The walls are marred with blood, and many torture devices are scattered throughout the room. Who knows how many people died here?

They find a bookshelf filled with many journals detailing the gruesome things the owner did to the people they trapped here in the past. Apparently, this whole underground dungeon belonged to the family’s patriarch, while the rest of the family didn’t have any idea what he did there.

As Izuku looks over the journals, Mittens finds the control panel for the secret passageway traps and quickly deactivates them all. She then downloads all the blueprints and maps she can find.

“Hey! Izuku! I found something!” Dabi calls from another part of the room.

Izuku follows him, and to his surprise, he finds a body pinned to the wall by the wrists, or what used to be their wrists. Only bones are left of this body. From the uniform he is wearing, Izuku can only assume that they just found the missing butler.

“Well, after everything we learned, I don’t feel the least bad for what happened to the owner of this place. He was a bastard.” Izuku grumbles.

He does feel bad about the rest of the family since they are apparently innocent. Shaking his head, he looks at the bones on the floor, then back at Dabi.

“Well, we have a mansion now.” Dabi points. “A butler would help a lot.”

“Let’s see if he’ll even want to work for us.” Izuku replies as he puts his wrists above the bones.

Carefully holding his scythe, Izuku slashes his wrist and lets his blood fall on the bones. As his quirk works its magic, the bones of the dead butler react as expected, coming together to form a complete skeleton. Soon after, tendons, organs, muscles, and skin begin to regenerate until a fully restored body of an old man with long white hair and beard stands before them.

Unlike previous experiences, where the resurrected individuals often jolted awake, gasping for breath in the sudden return to life, this old man calmly opens his blue eyes and takes in his surroundings. His gaze sweeps the room before settling on Izuku.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” He says. “Who are you, young one?”

“Well, technically, this mansion is mine.” Izuku replies. “I’m Aizawa Izuku, and I’m the one who brought you back. Do you remember anything, Mister?”

The old man thinks for a few moments, then shakes his head.

“Nothing. But this place gives me an eerie feeling.” The old man replies. “I feel in my bones that no one should be here.”

“That makes sense.” Izuku replies, nodding in understanding. “My quirk is Necromancy. I can bring corpses back to life, but the longer they’ve been dead, the less they remember. You are probably the person who has been dead the longest before I brought you back.”

The old man absorbs this information with a thoughtful expression. The realization of his own death and revival appears to settle in.

“So this means I owe you my life.” The old man says with a deep bow, showing gratitude for the second chance he has been given.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Izuku says, waving a hand in front of his face. “If you want to come with me, we would be glad to have you. Otherwise, you are free to do whatever you want.”

“In this case, allow me to serve you.” The old man replies. “Judging by my attire, I assume I was once the butler of this mansion. I would like to resume my duties.”

“Then welcome aboard.” Izuku says with a smile. “This is a very weird family, but I think you’ll fit right in.”

“Hey, Izuku!” Mittens runs to him. “I think I got the whole layout. And all the traps are now disabled. We can move out.” She turns to the old man. “Who’s the new one?”

“He doesn’t have a name yet.” Izuku replies. “Do you have something you’d like to be called?”

“Nothing in particular.” The old man shakes his head as they start following Mittens.

Dabi stares at the man as they walk until something seems to click in his head.

“Sebastian!” Dabi says, snapping his fingers. “Pennyworth Sebastian!”

“Did you just take two famous fictional butlers and mash their names together?” Izuku asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up. Do you have any better ideas?” Dabi grumbles.

The old man looks amused at the exchange between Dabi and Izuku. 

“Pennyworth Sebastian, you say?” He muses. “Well, it has a certain ring to it. I don’t mind being called that.”

“Sounds good to me.” Izuku agrees with a smile. “Pennyworth Sebastian it is then. Welcome to the family, Pennyworth.”

“Well, Young Master. If we are going to work together, I insist you use my first name. Just Sebastian will do.” Sebastian replies.

“Fine, then call me Izuku.” Izuku says with a smile.

“As you wish, Young Master Izuku.” Sebastian replies with an amused smile.

Izuku can see for sure that he won’t be dropping the “Young Master” thing anytime soon.

Despite not having his memories, Sebastian’s body seems to still remember exactly how to maneuver through these dark halls. He seems to know exactly where each passage and each switch is hidden. With his help, they don’t take long to find the exit, which opens right in the main living room of the mansion, behind the fireplace. Izuku quickly takes note of everything.

They find Mr. and Mrs. Uraraka outside, and to Izuku’s surprise, Ronin and Chihiro are also there. After Ronin frets over Izuku for ten minutes straight, then is introduced to Sebastian, Izuku gives them a shortened version of what happened inside.

“All traps have been disabled.” Izuku explains to the Urarakas. “So it should be safe. I’ll ask Guildmaster Star for help hiring a team specialized in traps to remove them.”

“Understood.” Mrs. Uraraka replies. “This ended up being a bigger project than we thought.”

“And we’ll cover the extra cost.” Izuku says. “You don’t have to worry about that, Mrs Uraraka.”

“From what you told us, everything in the secret tunnels seems functional.” Mr. Uraraka says. “So after removing all the traps so they can’t be activated again, we’ll only have to clean it. Despite the surprise, it shouldn’t set us back more than one week.”

“That’s okay.” Izuku nods. “I’ll call Guildmaster Star as soon as possible. Meanwhile, you can just carry on with the reform.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mr. Uraraka nods.

Chapter Text

After the excitement of the underground dungeon, the mansion’s renovation progresses pretty smoothly. Guildmaster Star promptly organizes a skilled team to disable the traps, and their efficiency shines as they complete the task within a surprisingly short span of less than a week.

The Urarakas prove to have been the right choice for the job. Despite the setback with the hidden dungeon, they still manage to finish all the renovations and even start working in the underground tunnels within the initially established time frame.

Days pass in a blur of focused work and diligent effort. Rooms are restored, and corners cleaned. Once everything is done, there’s no sign that this place once held such deadly traps. Izuku is more than impressed by the Urarakas’ work. Recognizing their remarkable abilities, Izuku decides to give them a bonus as a token of his gratitude.

A few days after the renovations are finished, Izuku and his family set foot inside the mansion, and chaos immediately unfolds.

The entrance is a flurry of motion as Izuku, Hitoshi, Dabi, Frank, Katashi, and Oboro all rush in a hurry to choose the best rooms for themselves. Their footsteps echo through the spacious foyer, each member of the group darting towards their desired rooms with an energy that’s almost palpable.

Mittens, however, has her own agenda. Uninterested in the trappings of the human world, she gracefully takes to the specially designed platforms adorning the walls and ceiling. With an air of regal disdain, she navigates these elevated pathways, not wanting to be on the floor with the “peasants.”

In the midst of the chaos, Izuku quickly finds the room that he wants for himself. He had chosen it weeks ago, since the first time he saw the mansion. It’s far from the spacious bedroom in the mansion, but Izuku actually prefers it that way. What he really likes is the balcony that offers a perfect view of the giant garden. 

As he looks at the garden, a thought comes to his mind. He’ll need to hire a gardener. He’s sure Sebastian is one hell of a butler, but he’s only one person.

A smile tugs at his lips as he envisions the possibilities. And then, a thought strikes him. He actually has a butler now. Sebastian is undoubtedly better suited to overseeing such matters than Izuku and his band of misfits. It’s a very comforting thought.

With a smile on his lips, Izuku starts unpacking his things. It’s nice to finally have a space that’s definitely his. The commotion eventually starts subsiding as everyone settles in their own rooms. Izuku soon finds that Hitoshi chose the room right beside him. It’s a coincidence, but a really happy one.

The mansion’s occupants each find their own spaces, creating a mosaic of personalities and preferences that meld together seamlessly. Hizashi and Shouta opt for a room on the first floor, a strategic choice that offers easy access for Shouta, who always gets home late due to his patrols. Ronin and Chihiro pick rooms nearby Izuku’s, which is quite comforting.

Dabi and Frank, always the duo, claim rooms in close proximity. Izuku has no doubt that Frank will set up a perfect gamer room pretty soon, and Dabi will be there much more than in his own room. Katashi’s choice situates him conveniently close to the gym. Izuku isn’t sure yet if the zombies can even gain muscle by working out, but he’s sure he’ll find it pretty soon.

Oboro chooses a room at the farthest end of the east wing, pretty close to the library. Izuku wonders the reason for that. Sebastian’s room, selected with precision, situates him near the janitor’s closet, a reflection of his role as both a butler and an efficient helper.

And then there’s Mittens, who subverts expectations in her own feline manner. She decides to turn the torture room in the underground into a workshop where she can make and test her inventions without worrying about destroying anything or bothering anyone.

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm golden hue over the mansion’s facade, the bustling activity of moving gradually gives way to a sense of accomplishment. The members of the eclectic family find themselves settled in their chosen rooms, belongings neatly arranged, and a palpable feeling of contentment settling over the once-quiet halls.

Evening arrives, drawing a tranquil curtain over the day’s events. In quiet unison, the group reconvenes in the mansion’s inviting living room, the heart of their shared space. As expected, they soon sat in smaller groups, talking about the moving and what they found.

Without even needing prompting, Sebastian takes charge of starting dinner for the living members of the family, a gesture that brings an air of comfort and anticipation to the room. As the delightful smell of the food begins to waft through the air, Izuku already feels his mouth watering and his belly growling.

Then the butler prepares the dining room, setting the plates in a neat arrangement and calling everyone in. As the meal is served, the room is momentarily filled with hushed murmurs of gratitude and anticipation. Hizashi, Hitoshi, and Izuku are the only ones who actually need to eat, but even so, this time, everyone decides to try it. After all, not needing to eat doesn’t mean they can’t.

And then, as Izuku takes the first bite, he almost begins to cry. The food is delicious! Sebastian is a great cook. They finally have someone who can cook! Not that Hizashi is a bad cook, but his skills obviously lean much more towards baked goods. Sebastian is just on a whole different level.

As he looks around the dining room and sees everyone enjoying the delicious meal, Izuku is sure everyone agrees. The dinner goes with a lot of silence because everyone is too busy enjoying the food to worry about starting a conversation.

As Izuku finishes his food, memories start flooding his mind. Memories of his past. Of a cold house. A mother who didn’t love him. A father that hated him just for existing. Friends who betrayed him. Abandoned in a forest to die.

Then he remembers reanimating Dabi and being saved by him. Finding Frank and trying to figure out where his apartment is. Finding Ronin’s body in a trash dump. Meeting Mittens in the same forest, he found Dabi’s bones. Doing missions for the Guild and finding Katashi. Meeting Shouta that same night. Reviving Chihiro on the same night, he did his first assassination mission. Meeting Hitoshi and then Hizashi. Almost losing Shouta. Finding Oboro and All Might. And now Sebastian.

So much happened. His family grew so much. Once, Izuku thought he’d be alone forever. But now, he never felt more loved. Suddenly, Izuku realizes that everyone is looking at him.

“W-What’s the problem?” He asks, surprising himself by how shaky his voice sounds. He notices his vision looking hazy and brings a hand to his face, finding his cheeks wet with tears. “What? I’m crying?” He lets out a watery laugh. “Heh, this looks familiar, right? Dabi? Frank?”

Dabi and Frank share a single glance before immediately moving. His first companions are the first ones to get up and rush to his side, wrapping him into a hug. It doesn’t take long for all the others to follow suit, though, and soon Izuku is being embraced by all sides.

“I love you guys.” Izuku says with a teary smile. “I love you guys so much. Thank you for being there for me.”

Izuku isn’t sure what he’s feeling. He wants to smile. He wants to cry. He wants to laugh. He wants to sob. So, in the end, he does it all. As his emotions run wild, he can feel all the strong arms of his family holding him together. 

Izuku never felt safer.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. 

Being a zombie is a strange experience, to say the least. He doesn’t know who he once was. All he has left are some feelings and muscle memory.

For example, even without knowing the reason, he knew that no one should be in the mansion’s underground. He knew the place was dangerous, and just being there brought him a sense of dread. He also knew how to move through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground.

He wondered if he had any involvement with what actually happened there. Honestly, he hopes not, but that’s something he’ll probably never find out.

Still, he was saved. He was given a second chance at life - or maybe unlife - thanks to a kid. A kid who just fell asleep from exhaustion after spilling out all the emotions he’s undoubtedly been bottling up for a long time.

This little boy, Aizawa Izuku, gave him life. A purpose. A name. He is Pennyworth Sebastian now. And he vowed to serve this kid for the rest of eternity if necessary. If he hadn’t made this vow before, witnessing this scene would have done it for him. And as Sebastian’s eyes scan the room, he knows that a feeling everyone here shares.

Sebastian fixes the glasses on his face - he doesn’t need them, but having glasses just feels right for him - and watches as Ronin carries Izuku to his room. The purple-haired kid, Hitoshi, follows them. Ronin is sure they’ll be sleeping in the same room tonight.

“He needs therapy.”  Chihiro’s voice breaks the silence, her words hanging heavily in the air.

“I agree.” Shouta replies with a nod, sharing the same look of concern as everyone else. “But if only it were that easy.”

“Quirk discrimination is a problem so ingrained in society that not even therapists are safe from it.” Hizashi’s voice carries a heavy undertone as he explains it. “I remember how many of my therapists when I was younger would treat me as a villain in rehabilitation. And I’m far from having the most ‘villainous’ quirk in the world. That’s the only reason we didn’t put Hitoshi in therapy yet, either.”

“He’d have worse than both of you combined.” Dabi says bitterly.

“We are looking for a good therapist for them.” Shouta says. “But it’s slow going.”

“Meanwhile, all we can do is offer our support.” Sebastian replies, holding an arm out and summoning a tray with a tea set. He glances at Dabi and Frank, who are both looking worriedly at the empty space where Izuku was standing a few moments ago. “You two seem familiar with what happened.”

“We saw it once.” Frank says with a frown. “It was right after Izuku reanimated me. He cried over a plate of toast. After hearing about how abusive his parents were. Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Honestly, if I ever meet his biological parents...” Dabi holds up his hand with his flames dancing in a clear message.

Sebastian’s nod conveys understanding as he sets about preparing tea. For the ones who can drink it, at least.

“I see.” He says with a frown. “It really is revolting.”

“Yes, but unless Izuku asks us to do something, it’s better to leave the past in the past.” Ronin says as he walks back into the room. 

“How is he?” Chihiro asks with a worried expression.

“Sleeping in Hitoshi’s room.” Ronin replies in a soft tone. The fondness is evident on his face. “I don’t think he’ll wake up before morning. He looked dead. Even more than usual.”

“Well, he deserves the rest.” Frank adds. “Between work and studies, the kid’s been running on fumes.”

“A vacation.” Hizashi suggests. “Something to take his mind off things. Just something fun, you know?”

“That’s actually a great idea.” Ronin nods. “I think Hitoshi would like it as well.”

“This could work.” Shouta muses. “Summer break is right on the corner. There’s the summer camp at UA, but it only lasts for one week. We can work around it.”

“It sounds like a wonderful plan.” Chihiro agrees.

“All in favor of the plan, raise your hands.” Ronin takes the lead.

In a harmonious display of unity, hands rise in unison. Not a single member of their unconventional family dissents from the plan. With unanimous agreement, a sense of determination fills the room, setting the stage for what lies ahead. As the decision settles, Sebastian takes the initiative, his measured movements evoking a sense of calm.

With tea cups gently clinking against saucers, they settle in, a sense of purpose binding them together. Plans take shape amidst the intimate atmosphere, and even though Sebastian is the most recent addition to this weird family, they still ask for his opinion.

Sebastian sure never expected this kind of life, much less an afterlife. But he’s certainly not complaining. He might not remember what his life once was, but that’s okay. He’s sure his unlife won’t ever be annoying.

Chapter Text

Izuku is in Nedzu’s office for another one of his lessons with the Chimera Principal. He has been studying with him for a few weeks already, and thankfully, the Principal has yet to try to persuade Izuku about becoming a hero again.

Izuku is working on an analysis of a new hero that debuted recently, while Nedzu works on something else Izuku isn’t sure what. Both have cups of steaming Jasmine tea in front of them.

Izuku mutters to himself as his pen slides through the notebook, adding everything he currently knows about Kamui Woods, which isn’t as much as Izuku would like. The hero is still a newcomer, but Izuku just knows he’s going to go far. Not only is his quirk extremely versatile, but the hero seems to have his heart in the right place. If only he toned down on the dramatics a little, though.

Suddenly, Izuku feels a gaze on himself and glances up, seeing Nedzu observing him intently. Not in the mood for another staring match, Izuku raises an eyebrow.

“Do you need something, Nedzu-Sensei?” Izuku asks.

“Oh, sorry.” Nedzu replies, not sounding sorry at all. “I couldn’t help but overhear your comments on Young Kamui Woods. Despite how adamant you’ve been against becoming a hero, you seem to hold him in high regard.”

“I have nothing against heroes, Sensei.” Izuku says. “And I like heroes who actually do their work instead of being simple show ponies.”

“I see.” Nedzu nods, a glint in his eyes as he smiles at Izuku. “Could I ask you to share your views on heroics, Izuku?”

Nedzu’s request catches Izuku off guard, but he considers his words for a moment before responding.

“Well, Sensei.” Izuku pauses and takes a sip of his tea to gather his thoughts. “My views on heroics are quite... Gray, to say the least.”

Nedzu leans forward, his eyes curious, waiting for Izuku to continue.

“As you know, I’ve been ingrained in the Underground community since I was six.” Izuku explains. “I’ve been basically raised by a bunch of zombies who would kill for me in a heartbeat. My quirk makes me completely desensitized to death. And I’ve been in the Silver Star Guild for many years. I admire Shouta and Hizashi and everything they do as heroes, Sir,” he says, taking another sip of his tea. “But I also could see the worst part of heroics. I’ve met so many corrupt heroes, heroes so much worse than villains. Once upon a time, I used to worship the ground where heroes walked on. But after learning everything I did, I can’t do that anymore. The world isn’t black and white. Neither are heroes. Heroes are still important for society, but they shouldn’t be worshiped like they are currently.”

“That’s an interesting way to view things, Izuku.” Nedzu nods. “And something I make sure to teach all students that pass through my school. Or at least the ones who survive Shouta-Kun’s purge.”

Izuku chuckles at the reminder of how many students Shouta expels every year.

“Can I ask why you asked me something like that?” Izuku asks. “I already said I can’t become a hero, Sensei.”

“And I still believe you would be one of the best.” Nedzu replies.

“Sensei, I look like a corpse.” Izuku points out. “My quirk literally raises the dead. No civilian would ever feel safe with me.”

“Maybe not a hero like Hizashi or Yagi.” Nedzu nods. “I don’t see you as the type to go Limelight in the first place. But there are other types of heroes. Can you imagine Shouta as the type of kind-hearted hero who smiles at children?”

Izuku can’t help but smile at the mental image of Eraserhead trying to smile like All Might or even Hizashi. Shouta’s grins are nightmare-inducing.

“No, that would be something to see.” Izuku laughs. “I’m not sure he’d survive a day in that role.”

“Exactly, Izuku.” Nedzu nods. “Heroes come in all shapes and sizes, figuratively and literally. Not all heroes are the type who look comforting and approachable. There are also the ones who, pardon for the crude words, make the villains piss their pants just by thinking about them.”

Izuku ponders Nedzu’s words for several moments. He raises his cup to take another sip, only to find it empty already. Nedzu chuckles and pours him another cup.

“I gave up on my dream a long time ago, Sensei.” Izuku says, shaking his head. “I’m happy where I am, being a mercenary with my team.”

“Are you now?” Nedzu asks. “Or are you just settling for it?”

Izuku sighs and sips his tea.

“I don’t want to continue this conversation, Sensei.” Izuku says.

“Alright, let’s put a pin on this conversation for now.” Nedzu nods.

Izuku would rather they never go back to this conversation again, but he knows Nedzu will continue trying to convince him. However, Izuku made up his mind a long time ago. He can’t become a hero. He won’t become a hero.

But, His traitorous mind begins to wonder. What if I could?

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. 

Hitoshi unceremoniously enters Izuku’s room and plops down on his bed, his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. His fingers clutch the notebook in his hand as he lets out a groan.

“Hey.” Izuku calls, not looking up from his notebook that he’s working on at his desk. “Long day?”

“Math.” Hitoshi groans again. “Why is math so complicated?”

Izuku winces and turns his chair to glance at Hitoshi.

“Yeah, math can be a pain in the ass.” Izuku nods. “What are you working on?”

“Algebra.” Hitoshi cries, passing the notebook to Izuku. “Who was the criminal who decided to mix the alphabet with numbers? I promise I just want to talk.”

“I’m pretty sure whoever it is, they’re long dead.” Izuku replies, and Hitoshi raises a finger.

“Unless you know where their body is, I can’t bring them back.” Hitoshi lowers his finger.

Izuku skims through the equations, trying to make sense of them. The pages are filled with scratch marks and messy notes.

“Well, the best advice I can give you is to treat it like a puzzle.” Izuku says. “For example, this one: X times 4 = 32. What number times 4 equals 32?”

“How am I supposed to know!?” Hitoshi groans.

“You do the inverse operation. If a number times 4 equals 32, then 32 divided by 4 equals the number you’re looking for.” Izuku explains.

“You make it sound so easy.” Hitoshi says, grabbing the notebook back to look at the problems. “The next one is even worse!!!”

“I wish I could help you more, but I’m not the best teacher.” Izuku admits with a sigh. “But you could try asking Chihiro for help. She’s one of the best teachers I ever had.”

Hitoshi looks at him and raises an eyebrow.

“How many teachers did you have again?” He asks.

“Not the point.” Izuku waves him off. “She must be in the range practicing with her bow. She won’t mind you asking her for help.”

“Fine, can’t hurt to try.” Hitoshi sighs and gets up. “Thanks anyway, Izu.”

“No problem. I wish I could help more.” Izuku replies with a sheepish smile.

“Don’t worry about it.” Hitoshi responds with an encouraging smile of his own. “Everyone has weaknesses. Looks like math is mine.”

“You’ll get the hang of it.” Izuku reassures him.

“Sure hope so.” Hitoshi mumbles before waving to Izuku. 

With that, he leaves Izuku’s room and softly closes the door behind him. He heads towards the archery range, which isn’t thankfully isn’t that far away. The mansion is huge, and sometimes traversing can be such a pain in the ass.

Hitoshi contemplates the idea of talking to Mittens later about creating teleportation devices to make moving around this colossal mansion more convenient. Inventing teleportation for the sake of laziness seems silly, but he knows that many human inventions were born from the same desire. If not for people being too lazy to walk everywhere, things like cars might never have existed.

Shaking off the amusing thought, he enters the archery range. Inside, he immediately spots the person he was seeking.

Chihiro stands with a long bow in her hands, dressed in traditional archery attire, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, and her piercing red eyes locked onto her targets.

Hitoshi watches with fascination as Chihiro pulls three arrows simultaneously and places them on her bowstring. She gracefully draws the string and releases it, sending all three arrows flying simultaneously. Each arrow finds its mark with pinpoint accuracy, hitting the bullseye of their respective targets.

Ronin, whom Hitoshi hadn’t realized was also there, approaches her and says something that has her lowering the bow and giggling. Hitoshi considers he might be interrupting something and wonders if he should leave, but before he can, Chihiro turns to him and waves.

“Hello, Hitoshi.” She greets with a friendly smile. “Do you need something?”

Hitoshi glances briefly at Ronin, not wanting to disrupt their exchange. He hopes he isn’t cockblocking the man. Can zombies even be “cockblocked"? That’s a thought for another time. Regardless, he gathers his courage and approaches Chihiro with his notebook in hand.

“Er... Izuku said you could help me.” Hitoshi says, his voice tinged with nervousness. “But I can come back later if I’m interrupting something.”

Chihiro glances at Ronin, who nonchalantly shrugs before turning his attention back to the targets. Hitoshi is sure he catches a disappointed look on his face. He’ll have to apologize later.

“No, you’re not interrupting anything.” Chihiro assures Hitoshi with a friendly grin. “I’m always here to help. What do you need assistance with?”

Hitoshi sighs in relief.

“Math, actually.” He hands her the notebook. “I’ve been struggling with these algebra problems, and Izuku mentioned that you’re a teacher or something?”

“Yes, I used to tutor the children where I lived.” Chihiro nods, taking the notebook and flipping through the pages. “And I did tutor Izuku before Nedzu ‘stole’ him.” She adds with a teasing smirk. She examines the equations with a thoughtful expression. “I can help you with that, but let’s find a more comfortable place first. Would you prefer the living room or your bedroom?”

Hitoshi considers for a moment.

“Living room sounds good.” He replies.

“Alright.” Chihiro says. “Let me change, and I’ll meet you there in 20 minutes. Bring your notebook and some pencils. We’ll get this math sorted out.”

With a nod, Hitoshi watches Chihiro head to the changing area. He gathers his things and goes to the living room to prepare for the tutoring session.

About 20 minutes later, Chihiro arrives, wearing casual clothes and with her hair down this time. They set down their materials on the coffee table and settle down on the couch.

“Okay, let’s see what you’re having trouble with.” Chihiro says with a friendly smile. “Show me the problems, and we’ll work through them together.”

Hitoshi shows her the notebook, pointing out the problems he’s struggling with, which include Algebra, Statistics, and Probability. They start with Algebra, with Chihiro breaking down the problems into simpler steps to make them easier to follow.

A few minutes into their study session, Sebastian arrives, bearing a tray of tea and snacks. They take a short break to enjoy the refreshments before continuing their math lessons. 

As they delve deeper into the algebra problems, Hitoshi finds himself gaining a better understanding. Chihiro’s teaching method is effective, and she ensures he comprehends each step before moving on to the next. 

Sebastian hovers nearby, occasionally refilling their teacups as they study. The atmosphere in the living room is cozy and relaxed, making the learning experience much more pleasant.

After they finish with the algebra problems, they move on to the statistics and probability questions. Chihiro patiently guides Hitoshi through each step to the point that it stops looking like rocket science for him.

By the end of the study session, Hitoshi is pleasantly surprised by how much progress he’s made.

“Thank you so much, Chihiro.” Hitoshi says as he gathers his things. “I don’t know what I’d do without your help.”

“Don’t mention it, Hitoshi.” Chihiro replies with a smile as she stretches up. “If you need help with anything else, come find me. I miss teaching.”

Sebastian steps in and gathers the teacups and snacks, quickly taking everything back to the kitchen sparing a quick nod at both of them.

“Thank you, Sebastian.” Hitoshi says with a smile before turning back to Chihiro. “I don’t think I can ever live without a butler again.” He jokes. Or, well, half-jokes.

“Guess Sebastian spoiled all of us, huh?” Chihiro chuckles.

“Well, he’s one hell of a butler. That’s for sure.” Hitoshi replies. “Thank you again, Chihiro. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t mention it.” Chihiro smiles and then leaves.

Feeling somewhat drained from the study session, Hitoshi decides it’s time to indulge a little. He makes his way to Frank’s “Lab,” ready to spend the rest of his afternoon playing video games and unwinding after the mental workout with Chihiro. It’s a well-deserved break, and he looks forward to it.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Shouto sits on his bed with his notebook open in front of him as he works on his homework. As usual, he’s locked into a deadly battle with English, and he’s losing. Why did English have to be such a tough language to learn? Well, at least the day is peaceful. A rare occurrence in the Todoroki household.

However, the peace is suddenly shattered by a familiar and unwelcome booming voice accompanied by a door slamming. Like always, “inside voice” seems to be a concept that his father just doesn’t know. Shouto can’t help but let out a sigh. Peace was too good to last with Endeavor around.

A few minutes later, Fuyumi knocks on Shouto’s door. It’s an unspoken rule between Shouto and his siblings. They don’t enter each other’s room without permission.

“Come in.” Shouto says, and Fuyumi pokes her head into the room.

“Dad wants us to pack our bags.” She explains her expression a mix of confusion and mild excitement. “He said we’re going on a vacation.”

“Vacation?” Shouto can’t help but chuckle. “Endeavor is taking a vacation? The workaholic Endeavor?”

“Well…” Fuyumi trails. “He was grumbling something about his PR team as he went to his room.”

“That makes more sense.” Shouto replies with a nod. “They’re probably forcing him to take a vacation, a PR stunt to boost his popularity. Having him take a vacation with his family should make him a lot more ‘relatable.’” He adds, using finger quotes for emphasis.

“As long as he doesn’t intend to train you during the trip, I’m in.” Fuyumi says with a shrug.

“Natsuo will be a tougher sell.” Shouto points out.

“Leave him to me.” Fuyumi says with a smirk. “You can start packing.”

“Any idea where we’re going?” Shouto asks.

“Nope.” Fuyumi replies. “He didn’t say.”

“It’s probably some resort for people with too much money and free time.” Shouto says with a shrug.

Shouto doubts it will be a beach resort. He has a few too many scars under his shirt that his father wants to keep hidden. The scar on his face was already hard enough to explain.

“Well. You should pack your swimwear just in case.” Fuyumi suggests. “But bring some warm clothes too. We never know.”

Shouto smiles faintly. The cold never bothered him anyway.

“Alright.” He nods and gets up. 

As Fuyumi leaves his room, Shouto goes to his closet to begin packing. Whatever the reason behind this vacation, Shouto is grateful for the break. At least his father won’t be able to put him through “training” in a public place where people might see him. Sometimes, small victories are all one can hope for.

Chapter Text

The grand hotel’s opulence is lost on Shouto as he executes his escape plan with military precision the moment they step through the ornate entrance. A crowd of fans wanting to see Endeavor swarm his family as soon as they see the hero there, creating the perfect smokescreen for Shouto’s escape

Shouto observes, a faint smile playing on his lips, as his father becomes the epicenter of the frenzy. He knew Endeavor hated dealing with fans more than anything in the world, and it wouldn’t take long for him to send all of them packing, but it would still take him at least a few minutes for him to manage that.

He doesn’t really get it. Endeavor is rude and brash; he never gives his fans the time of his day, his casualty and collateral damage rates are off the charts, and despite all that, he’s still the number two hero. Just how in the world is Endeavor so popular? It’s infuriating how much the man can get away with just because of that, but unfortunately, there’s nothing Shouto can do about it.

At the very least, he can be grateful to the crowd for allowing him to escape undetected. In the bustling lobby, Shouto moves with the ease of a shadow, imperceptibly gliding through the crowd. 

Stepping into the snow-laden world beyond the hotel’s threshold, a genuine smile breaks across his face. The biting cold doesn’t bother him; his quirk makes sure of that. The chilly air is invigorating and perfectly comfortable for him despite how underdressed he is. Anyone else would be freezing in this cold.

Unexpectedly, his solitude is interrupted by the sight of a boy even less prepared for the cold than he is. The green-haired kid, pulling a sled behind him, wears only a black hoodie, jeans, and red sneakers — no scarf or gloves in sight. 

Despite his introverted nature, Shouto finds his curiosity getting the better of him, and he approaches the boy. With remarkable situational awareness, the kid senses Shouto’s approach and turns, revealing eyes that send a chill down Shouto’s spine. The eyes, dead and pale, make him briefly question if he’s encountered a zombie. Yet, a nagging sense of familiarity tugs at him. Have they met before?

“Hey.” The kid waves, smiling. “I’m Izuku. Nice to meet you.”

Shouto, momentarily taken aback by the friendly greeting from someone who looks, well, undead, gathers his composure.

“I’m Shouto.” Shouto replies with a shy wave of his own. “Have we met before?” He finds himself blurting the question before he can think better.

“I wonder if we did.” The kid says with a grin. “Has your dear father been tripping recently?”

Well, this is more than enough to jolt Shouto’s memory. Of course, he remembers that day. The video of Endeavor tripping still ends up trending every few weeks. Not even the HPSC is capable of silencing the whole internet. Shouto himself has the video saved on his phone and seven different backups on the cloud.

“Necrom-” Shouto almost yells, but the kid covers his mouth. 

Shouto instantly feels just how cold his hand is, which makes him wonder if it’s because he’s playing in the snow without gloves or if his hands are really cold like that. He feels like it could be either or even both.

“I’m Izuku. Just a kid with a cold resistance quirk out on vacation, okay?” Izuku says hushedly. Shouto nods softly, and the boy takes the hand out of his mouth. “Sorry about that. That name isn’t public, but I’m pretty famous among heroes. And there’s a lot of them around here.”

“I get it.” Shouto nods. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.” Izuku waves him off. “Anyway. I didn’t expect to find you here. Endeavor doesn’t seem to be the type to take family vacations.”

“He’s not.” Shouto shrugs. “But every once in a lifetime, his PR team manages to force him into taking one. It helps that things have been a lot calmer since All Might returned. He isn’t happy about it.”

“I can imagine that.” Izuku laughs and shakes his head. “Have you ever been sledding?”

“No. The most I did was ice skating.” Shouto shakes his head.

“Well, wanna try?” Izuku asks with a grin.

Who’s Shouto to deny a chance like that? With a smile, he nods.

Izuku leads Shouto to a nearby hill where a group of kids is already enjoying the snowy slopes. Shouto can’t help but feel a twinge of envy at the carefree laughter and joyous shouts that echo around them. Once more, he finds himself cursing his father for all the things he never got to taste in his childhood.

“Here we are.” Izuku says, pointing to his sturdy-looking sled. “It’s a bit beaten up, but it works perfectly fine.”

Shouto takes a moment to inspect the sled. It might not be the latest model, but it seems sturdy enough to withstand whatever they’re about to do. He nods, ready to give it a try.

Izuku plops himself onto the sled, patting the space in front of him. “Hop on. I promise this is going to be fun.”

Shouto sits down in front of Izuku, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He’s not entirely sure what to expect, but he trusts Izuku’s judgment. With a swift push, they glide down the hill, the wind rushing against their faces.

The initial descent feels like a rush, and Shouto can’t help but let out a genuine laugh. The simple joy of the moment washes over him, and for a brief instant, he forgets everything about his father, the expectations, the abuse, and just laughs, feeling like a child.

As they reach the bottom of the hill, Shouto finds himself grinning. He turns to Izuku, who’s wearing a wide smile himself.

“See? Wasn’t that fun?” Izuku asks, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm.

“It was.” Shouto nods. “Can we do it again?” 

“As many times as you want to.” Izuku replies with a wink that makes Shouto’s heart skip a beat. 

Shouto decides to ignore the weird feeling for now and follows Izuku back up the hill. They spend the next several hours playing in the snow together. Shouto doesn’t think he has ever had this much fun in a single day.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

“This tea is great.” Hizashi says with a smile as he sips his cup.

“Ugh. Tea.” Shouta grumbles as he downs his third cup of black sludge. “How can you like that hot water?”

“Better than this ‘heart attack in a cup’ you call coffee.” Hizashi replies, sticking out his tongue.

Shouta narrows his eyes at Hizashi’s playful jab. “Coffee is a work of art. It’s rich, bold, and gets the job done. Tea is just... hot leaf juice. Also, I don’t have to worry anymore about ‘heart attacks.’”

“Isn’t an excuse to drink that much.” Hizashi replies. “You practically live on caffeine.”

“Says the man who lives on Sugar.” Shouta retorts, glancing pointedly at the cake Hizashi is snacking on.

“Says the man with the permanent scowl.” Hizashi raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you need a bit more sweetness in your life.” He takes a bite of the cake and eats it, chewing slowly while maintaining eye contact with Shouta.

“I have plenty of sweetness.” Shouta replies with a smirk. “Wasn’t that what you said last night when we-”

“Shouta! We are in public.” Hizashi hisses.

“I was talking about when we were watching that movie.” Shouta replies with the most innocent tone he’s ever capable of mustering, aka, none at all. “Take your mind off the gutter, love.”

Hizashi blushes, flustered by Shouta’s suggestive remarks. He clears his throat, trying to regain composure.

“Anyway, you can’t deny the fact that I add a little flavor to your life.” Hizashi says, feigning innocence while taking another bite of the cake.

“I suppose my unlife would be very dull without you.” Shouta replies with a grin. “I suppose you add a different kind of chaos.”

“And admit it, you secretly love it.” Hizashi grins triumphantly.

“Secretly?” Shouta tilts his head. “It’s a secret for who?”

“All the people who don’t know we are married.” Hizashi replies, raising his cup.

“Fair enough.” Shouta raises his own cup and clinks them together.

“Anyway, where’s everybody?” Hizashi asks. 

“Hitoshi is hanging out with Dabi and Frank. I think they said they found an Arcade.” Shouta says. “Ronin and Chihiro went somewhere together.” 

“I wonder if these two will ever confess to each other. They’ve been dancing around each other for months.” Hizashi mutters.

“It would be easier if they didn’t get interrupted every time they are alone.” Shouta replies with a shrug. “Anyway, Mittens went somewhere on her. Probably plotting the next step on her world domination plan or something. Katashi said he was going to look for a gym. Izuku went to play outside. Sebastian is keeping an eye on him from afar. Yagi will arrive tomorrow. He said he had a last-minute mission to take care of. I have no idea where Oboro went, but you know how he is. Ever since Guildmaster Star got him that quirk use license, he just pops up whenever he feels like it.”

“Well, it’s certainly convenient.” Hizashi points out. “Just what we’ve saved on gas since he showed up is enough to pay for half of this vacation. Not that money is a problem.” He laughs. I’m almost jealous of how loaded Izuku is.”

“Didn’t he give you his credit card and say something like ‘don’t worry about the limit?’” Shouta asks.

“Yes, I have it right here.” Hizashi replies. “But I feel bad using his money, ya dig? I am the adult. Shouldn’t I be the one giving him an allowance?”

“Things don’t follow the common sense with Izuku. Don’t overthink.” Shouta says with a shrug. “Besides, you know he doesn’t care about money.” 

“Fine, I’ll try not to overthink.” Hizashi sighs. “Doesn’t mean I’ll start using his money as well. I have my own money. Working three jobs pays a lot.”

“Fair. I can’t even spend my own money, let alone someone else’s.” Shouta nods. I guess we need a hobby.”

“Aizawa Shouta getting a hobby?” Hizashi chuckles.

“I have hobbies, you know?” Shouta grumbles.

“Terrorizing your class doesn’t count.” Hizashi teases.

He laughs as Shouta turns away, trying to hide his pout in his scarf. He’s so easy to tease sometimes.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Oboro sighs as he walks through the portal.

“Nothing there either?” He looks up and sees Guildmaster Star approaching. 

“Nope.” Oboro shakes his head. “He wasn’t there either.

“That was the last one.” Guildmaster Star says. “We have no traces of any other facilities related to All for One.”

“Which means Tomura is either very well hidden or dead.” Oboro replies as he slumps on a chair in the office. “Considering how much resources All for One poured on raising him, I doubt he’d want to discard him so easily.”

“Unfortunately, even with the Guild’s resources, it’s hard to investigate All for One’s businesses. Very few mercenaries would risk angering him. The ones who do are usually the newbies who think they are invincible.” Star explains. “I’ll personally keep an eye on any information related to him, but I can’t make any promises.”

“That’s all I can ask.” Oboro replies as he gets up. “Anyway, thanks for the help, Guildmaster. I should go back now. I was supposed to be on vacation right now. You have my number whenever you want to cash this favor.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Have a good rest, Warlock.” Guildmaster Star gives him a very exaggerated bow. “Send my regards to Necromancer.”

“Sure, sure.” Oboro waves and opens a portal inside his hotel room.

“Chihiro, I-” He hears Ronin’s voice as soon as he steps out.

“Oh, hey, Oboro.” Chihiro waves at him, and Ronin jumps.

“Hello, Ronin, Chihiro.” Oboro says with a smile.

“Hi, Oboro.” Ronin greets with a lot less enthusiasm. “Done with your business.”

“Yep. I think I’ll just relax for a while now.” Oboro says as he drops on the couch.

“I… See…” Ronin sighs and sits down.

“Something the matter?” Oboro asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, nothing.” Ronin shakes his head.

“How about a movie, then?” Chihiro offers with a smile.

After a bit of back and forth, they set on watching Encanto. It’s a great movie, but Ronin doesn’t seem to be enjoying it very much for some reason. Oboro almost feels like Ronin doesn’t want him there.

Oh well, he just ignores the feeling and watches the movie.

Chapter Text

Shouto couldn’t help but find the whole situation amusing. It all started with a casual conversation about quirks during their sledding excursion the day before. When Shouto mentioned his curiosity about Izuku’s supposed immunity to the cold, Izuku took it as a challenge, leading them back to the snowy landscape they now found themselves in.

Watching Izuku, who seemed more suited for a day at the beach than a snowy mountainside, Shouto shook his head in disbelief. Izuku wore nothing more than a tank top, shorts, and bare feet, with his shoes abandoned near Shouto.

“Alright, I’m convinced. The cold doesn’t bother you at all.” Shouto said, a hint of incredulity in his voice as he eyed Izuku. “But could you at least put on your shoes? I’m starting to feel frostbite just from watching you.”

Izuku flashed a mischievous grin in response. “Nah, I think I’m good like this.”

“Your call.” Shouto replied, a faint smile playing on his lips. “But don’t say I didn’t warn your toes turn into icicles.”

Izuku chuckled, brushing off Shouto’s concern. “I’ll take my chances.” He said nonchalantly, wiggling his toes as if to prove his point. “If you’re that worried, how about helping me finish this snowman before we head back to the hotel?”

“I’ll help.” Shouto agreed. “If you promise to put your shoes back on.”

“Deal.” Izuku agreed with a grin, settling down on the cold snow next to Shouto and slipping his shoes back on, all the while forgoing socks. He shot Shouto a mischievous grin that practically screamed, “What are you going to do about it?”

Shouto sighed, shaking his head at Izuku’s antics. “Guess it’s my fault for not being more specific.” He mumbled, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

With a resigned shrug, Shouto joined Izuku in shaping the snow into a snowman. The cold from the snow seeped through his gloves, but it was pretty comfortable for him. His right side felt right at home in this temperature, while his left side kept him warm enough that it wasn’t a problem. Of course, if he tried to go around dressed like Izuku, the story would be very different.

Together, they started rolling two giant snowballs for the body, then a smaller one for the head. They worked in comfortable silence, Izuku more than filling the quiet with his chatter. Shouto occasionally chipped in with a comment here and there, but he was content to let Izuku talk. His voice was pleasant to Shouto’s ears, and the conversation flowed easily between them as they worked on their snowy creation.

Once the body was ready, they started adding details. Dry branches worked perfectly as arms, a few stones on the belly to look like buttons, some more for the mouth and eyes, a carrot for the nose - Shouto had no idea why there was a carrot randomly lying on the floor - Izuku found a cap lying around, probably lost by a careless sledder on the way down the hill. When Izuku suggested using his own shirt as a scarf, Shouto quickly shot down the idea and took off his own scarf, wrapping it around the snowman’s neck.

As Shouto secured his scarf around the snowman’s neck, he stepped back to admire their handiwork. The snowman stood tall and proud, its makeshift features giving it a quirky personality.

“Looks good.” Shouto remarked, a small smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at Izuku.

“Yeah, not bad for a couple of amateurs.” Izuku replied with a grin, brushing snow off his hands. “I’m naming you, Frosty!”

Shouto chuckled, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over him. It was a simple moment but one he found himself cherishing.

“I don’t think I ever made a snowman before.” Shouto said softly as he admired their creation.

He noticed Izuku frowning nearby, looking lost in thought for a moment.

“I can’t remember having done it before, either.” Izuku muttered. “If I did, it was before I was four…” He shook his head as if trying to chase away a bad memory. Which he probably was. 

He had the same expression Shouto saw on his own face several times when he looked in a mirror. The difference being that Shouto usually hid his sadness behind a facade of anger instead of outward cheerfulness like Izuku. 

Shouto couldn’t help but wonder about the kind of life Izuku had lived. It was evident that Izuku couldn’t have had a happy childhood. Not with his deep involvement in the Underground at such a young age.

Of course, he wouldn’t try to pry. Just like Izuku wasn’t trying to pry on his life despite having more than enough reasons to suspect there was something wrong. Heck, Shouto asked the mercenary to kill his father the first time they met. Even if Izuku thought he was joking, it must have still been a weird request. Yet, Izuku didn’t seem like he was going to ask him questions. 

They had this unspoken agreement about respecting each other’s boundaries, and Shouto was happy with that.

“How about we go back to the hotel before we both become Frosty’s brothers?” Shouto suggested, breaking the thoughtful silence.

Izuku’s eyes brightened with amusement at Shouto’s suggestion, the shadow of sadness dissipating from his expression. 

“Sounds like a plan.” He agreed, a playful smile on his face. “I don’t think I’m ready to join the snowman brigade just yet.”

“Really?” Shouto raised a teasing eyebrow. “I thought cold didn’t bother you.”

“Well… It doesn’t!” Izuku replied quickly. “Of course I could like this the whole day! I could even take off my shirt. Look!”

“NO!” Shoto held Izuku’s arms before the boy could take off his shirt just to prove a point. Izuku’s arms were freezing. “I believe you. No need to do that. Let’s just go back.”

“Fine…” Izuku replied with a shrug, and the two returned to the hotel.

Upon entering the lobby, they were greeted by a tall, distinguished man sporting a pair of glasses and a crisp butler uniform. He held out two steaming cups of tea with a polite smile, clearly the designated caretaker for Izuku.

“Welcome back, Young Master Izuku.” He intoned in a respectful tone, though there was a teasing edge in his voice. Izuku responded with a slight groan, clearly used to this routine.

“Just Izuku, Sebastian. How many times do I have to say?” He grumbled, accepting the cup of tea and taking a sip.

Sebastian chuckled softly, his demeanor unruffled by Izuku’s protest. “As you wish, Young Master Izuku.” He said with a graceful bow, amusement still evident in his tone.

Izuku groaned once more, resigned to Sebastian’s unyielding formality. Shouto observed the exchange silently, taking the other offered cup of tea and savoring the comforting taste of peppermint.

“So, Young Master Izuku, I’ve prepared a bath for you.” Sebastian continued, his tone carrying a blend of reprimand and amusement. “And Frank is awaiting your return in the room, given your impromptu snow adventure in those attire.”

Izuku rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but crack a sheepish smile. 

“Thanks, Sebastian. I’ll go freshen up right away.” He said, setting down his tea cup on the tray Sebastian held before turning to Shouto. “Wanna come?”

“Are you suggesting we take a bath together?” Shouto asked, his tone carrying a hint of surprise. The last time he shared a bath with someone else was when Toya was still alive, a memory that felt both distant and bittersweet.

Izuku’s cheeks flushed crimson, realization dawning on him as he scrambled to clarify his intentions.

“Oh, no, no! I mean, not together, together. Just... you know, we could both use the bath, separately, of course!” He stammered, waving his hands in a flustered manner.

Shouto couldn’t help but chuckle at Izuku’s embarrassment, finding the situation oddly amusing. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer. A hot bath sounds perfect right now.” He replied, his amusement evident in his voice. “Plus, it’s another excuse to avoid my own hotel room and my father.” He added with a mumble, the last part almost an afterthought.

If Izuku heard Shouto’s muttered comment, he didn’t acknowledge it, instead offering a sheepish smile as they made their way toward the elevator.

Both walked to the elevator, and Izuku pressed the button on his floor. Shouto absently noticed it was just one floor above his own, and it was also a VIP room. Shouto knew that the VIP rooms in this hotel were almost impossible to reserve. Endeavor had to use a lot of contacts to secure their own room, so how did Izuku get one? Another mystery to add to the big pile of mysteries regarding Shouto’s new friend.

The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival on Izuku’s floor. The doors slid open to reveal a corridor adorned with elegant furnishings and subdued lighting. Izuku led the way, striding confidently down the corridor, with Shouto following close behind.

Upon reaching Izuku’s room, he swiped a keycard and held the door open for Shouto with a courteous gesture.

What a gentleman . Shouto thought as he rolled his eyes and entered, Izuku following right behind.

Inside the room, Shouto saw a man with long white hair who was wearing a lab coat... For some reason. As soon as he saw Izuku, he rushed to him and grabbed him, sitting him down on the couch and tugging off his shoes as he started scolding him.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Just because you can’t feel the cold doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you.” The man chided as he laid his right hand, emitting a green glow, on Izuku’s feet.

Despite the scolding, Izuku just gave the man a cheeky, unrepentant smile.

“C’mon, you know I’m fine with the cold, Frank.” Izuku replied.

“Your toes are frozen! How is that being ‘fine?’” Frank exclaimed.

Izuku chuckled sheepishly, wiggling his toes as if to prove his point. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Frank. Besides, I had too much fun out there to worry about a little cold.”

Frank sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. “You’re lucky you’re so cute; otherwise, you’d be in a lot of trouble, young man.”

Izuku giggled at Frank’s words as the older man continued to fuss over his frozen toes. Shouto couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy over such a familial dynamic. Something he never got to taste in his life.

Once the glow on Frank’s hand dimmed, the man got up and finally seemed to notice Shouto there.

“Oh, didn’t know you had a visitor.” He muttered. “Hello, I’m Frank N. Stein. You can call me Frank.”

Frank N. Stein? Shouto couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the unusual name. It sounded like something out of a fantasy novel. He glanced at Izuku, who merely shrugged as if to say, “Don’t ask.”

“I’m Shouto.” He replied, bowing politely in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Frank.”

Frank chuckled at Shouto’s gesture. “The pleasure’s all mine, Shouto.” He said with a warm smile. “Izuku talks a lot about you.”

Shouto’s surprise was evident. They’d only met yesterday – if you discounted their brief encounter at Endeavor’s agency.

“Oh, indeed.” Frank replied with a smirk. “Ever since he met you, he’s been going on about the boy who paid him with a packet of Oreos to trip his father. It’s quite endearing.”

Before Frank could finish his sentence, Izuku leaped onto his back, muffling his words with a hand and blushing furiously.

“That’s enough, Frank.” Izuku interjected, his cheeks tinged with pink. “We have a bath waiting for us. Separately!” He quickly added as a teasing smirk spread on Frank’s face. “I doubt we’d even fit in the tub together anyway.”

“Yeah. Right. This place’s tub is the size of a pool.” Frank laughed as Izuku dismounted from his back. “Find a better excuse.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Izuku muttered, looking away before shaking his head. “Anyway, Shouto, why don’t yo-”

“Nope. You’re going first, young man.” Frank interjected, cutting Izuku off. “You’re still cold as an ice cube.”

Izuku glared at him for a few seconds before turning to Shouto, his expression asking for help.

“Don’t look at me like that, I agree with him.” Shouto said, raising his hands.

“Ugh. Fine.” Izuku let out a resigned grumble before trudging off toward the bathroom, leaving Shouto and Frank alone in the room. 

Chuckling at the exchange, Frank extended his hand towards Shouto, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Shouto eyed the gesture warily, recalling seeing it on television before. It was called a high-five, he remembered. He tentatively raised his hand with a hesitant smile, meeting Frank’s in a gentle clap.

“Welcome to the chaotic world of Izuku.” Frank remarked with a grin, withdrawing his hand. “Never a dull moment around here.”

Shouto nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“I can see that.” He replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “He’s certainly... unique.”

“That’s one way to put it.” He agreed, a hearty chuckle leaving his throat as he shook his head fondly. “But I guess we are all unique. Just wait until you meet Dabi.”

With that cryptic remark, Frank strolled away, leaving Shouto to ponder the mysterious figure named Dabi. But Shouto very much doubted there was anything that could still surprise him.

Hours later, after a long, warm bath, Shouto found himself engrossed in a game of cards with Izuku. That was the exact moment the world decided it was time for him to eat his words.

As he concentrated on his hand, Shouto froze in disbelief as a literal skeleton waltzed into the room. All bones, except for the missing jawbone. But still! 

1. Fucking. Skeleton!

“Do you have a four?” Izuku asked, completely unfazed by the skeleton in the room. “Shouto? A four?”

“Yeah, he does.” The skeleton replied, reaching for Shouto’s cards, pulling his four of hearts, and then passing them to Izuku.

“Oh, hi, Dabi.” Izuku smiled and took the card. “Wanna play?”

“No, thanks. I’m gonna meet Hito in the Arcade. Gotta beat his ass today.” Dabi replied as he walked to the closet.

“Huh. Didn’t know the hotel had an arcade.” Izuku muttered as he checked his cards. “Got any Jacks?”

“No, Jacks.” Shouto shook his head before focusing back on his game. “That skeleton… Have I met him before?”

“Well, he was there when I stole those files at Endeavor’s agency. Maybe you saw him there?” Izuku shrugged.

“Maybe. Got any sixes?” Izuku sighed and passed him a six of spades. 

Maybe Shouto saw him there and just didn’t pay attention at the time. But he had a feeling that was not it. For some reason, that skeleton felt really familiar to him.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Yoshida Kenjiro was a simple medic. Albeit a clandestine one.

Working for the Silver Star Union was never something he minded. After all, Guildmaster Star always paid well for his quirk. He received a great sum of money based on the people he healed. Kenjiro had a minor healing quirk, which was nothing impressive compared to people like Recovery Girl. However, healers were very rare in the Underground, and due to that, the few that existed were much better paid than they could dream of earning working through official means.

He always made a great earn simply through the sheer volume of mercenaries he would end up patching every day. Things were great for a long time. Until that fucking brat, Necromancer appeared. A boy with a quirk that went against the very rules of nature itself and could bring the dead back. A literal kid with the power of a fucking god!

Somehow, that kid managed to put his hands on a healer with the most powerful quirk any healer ever heard of, and he could use it with seemingly no drawback. Fixer, the zombie - and isn’t that another craziness? An actual zombie! - was called.

Calling Fixer’s quirk a miracle wouldn’t be an exaggeration. The guy could heal even the worst of the injuries in a matter of seconds and without leaving so much as a scar behind. That’s where the problems started for Kenjiro.

Why would anyone want to be treated for him when a much more powerful healer existed? In just a few weeks, Kenjiro went from indispensable to worthless.

Nowadays, the only ones who still would request Kenjiro’s services were the newcomers who barely had any money and thus were trying to save any penny they could, thus preferring the cheaper treatments Kenjiro could offer. 

This was far from enough for him, though.

Where did that brat even come from, anyway? Why was a literal child working so engrained with the Underground? More importantly, how could Kenjiro get rid of him when he had even Guildmaster Star wrapped around his little finger?

Kenjiro wasn’t the only person who disliked the brat. Someone coming out of nowhere and climbing through the rankings of the Guild, earning the favor of Guildmaster Star in the process? The brat had several enemies, though he seemed to be aware of that.

Necromancer was never seen in the Guild without at least two of his zombies nearby. They always took a sip of anything that was served to the kid to check for poison.

No one was dumb enough to try to start anything inside the Guild, but a few tried to ambush him outside. Lucky were the ones who managed to escape with only a missing limb.

Acting directly against Necromancer, whether inside or outside the boundaries of the Guild, was basically a death sentence. So, a few people decided to go through another route. Someone managed to discover that Necromancer’s quirk worked through his blood, which was an interesting finding considering that Kenjiro came across someone willing to pay generously for a vial of Necromancer’s blood. 

Contracting people through the Internet was much riskier than through the Guild. The only ones who still did that were people who were banned from the Union for any reason.

Kenjiro himself had been interested in Necromancer’s blood for a while. Seizing an opportunity, he approached the boy under the pretext of conducting a routine checkup, claiming to be acting on Guildmaster Star’s behalf.

He knew it was a risky move. If Star ever found out what he did, Kenjiro was absolutely fucked. But in the end, it worked. Necromancer was, after all, still a child. He seemed to trust Guildmaster Star almost blindly, and thus, Kenjiro managed to acquire a vial of his blood.

Which brought him to his current situation as he walked nervously through the dark alleys in search of his contact. His heart pounded in his chest as he clutched the vial containing Necromancer’s blood concealed within the folds of his hoodie.

Finally, he reached the designated meeting spot—a secluded corner where the faint glow of a solitary street lamp cast eerie shadows. Kenjiro’s footsteps echoed softly against the pavement as he approached the figure in the alley. The man’s silhouette stood out against the backdrop of darkness, illuminated only by the feeble glow of the nearby street lamp. His stout frame and diminutive stature made him easily recognizable, even in the dim light. He had a black briefcase in his right hand.

The man wore a pristine white lab coat that seemed oddly out of place in the gritty surroundings of the alley. Thick goggles adorned with intricate gear-shaped designs concealed his eyes, lending an air of enigma to his appearance. However, it was the combination of his bald head and bushy mustache that made him truly memorable, giving him a peculiar yet somewhat imposing presence.

The man’s gaze bore into Kenjiro as he approached, scrutinizing him with an intensity that sent a shiver down Kenjiro’s spine. There was something unsettling about the way the man studied him as if he could see through Kenjiro’s very soul.

“First-Aid, I presume?” The man’s voice was gruff yet tinged with a hint of curiosity as he used Kenjiro’s underground moniker.

Kenjiro nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple despite the chilly air. “Yes, that’s me.” He replied, his voice tight and nervous. “And you must be my contact.”

The man’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, revealing a glimpse of yellowed teeth beneath his bushy mustache. “Indeed I am.” He confirmed, his tone betraying a note of amusement. “You have something for me?”

Kenjiro hesitated for a moment, his hand tightening around the vial concealed within his pocket. 

“Yes, I do.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. With trembling fingers, he withdrew the vial, holding it out to the man with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation.

The man’s gaze sharpened as he accepted the vial, his gloved fingers closing around it with deliberate care. He examined the contents for a moment, holding it up to the faint light to inspect it closely. Satisfied with what he saw, he tucked the vial into the inner pocket of his lab coat.

“Excellent.” He murmured, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Everything seems to be in order. It’s pretty rare to see someone willing to cross Star. You certainly have courage.”

Kenjiro forced a tight-lipped smile, his nerves still on edge despite the man’s seemingly approving words. “It’s all about survival in the Underground.” He replied, his voice strained with tension. “Sometimes you have to take risks to get ahead.”

“Paying a dead man sounds like a waste. But a deal is a deal.” The man muttered with a shrug and handed Kenjiro the briefcase. “Good luck with Star. If I were you, I’d start looking into leaving the country.” He said with a wave. “Not that I think it’ll help.”

With a nod of acknowledgment, Kenjiro accepted the briefcase, feeling the weight of it in his hands. He resisted the urge to glance inside, knowing that it was better not to draw any unnecessary attention to their transaction.

“Thank you.” Kenjiro said, his voice tight with a mixture of relief and apprehension. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The man offered him a curt nod before turning on his heel and disappearing into the shadows of the alley, leaving Kenjiro alone with his thoughts. As he watched the man’s retreating figure, Kenjiro couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the pit of his stomach.

Stuffing the briefcase securely under his arm, Kenjiro hurriedly made his way out of the alley, eager to put some distance between himself and the clandestine meeting spot. His mind raced with thoughts of what he would do next. 

But he had hidden all his traces pretty well. There was no way Guildmaster Star would find out what he did… Right?

Chapter Text

Hitoshi let out a frustrated sigh, his brows knit together in consternation as he tried to decipher the cryptic symbols adorning the unfamiliar thermostat. He flipped through the instruction booklet, hoping for some semblance of comprehension, but his efforts only yielded further confusion. The Cyrillic letters mocked him, their meaning as elusive as ever.

He was far from technologically illiterate, but the problem wasn't his proficiency—it was the fact that the damn book was in Russian. It made sense. The resort they were visiting was in Russia, after all. But he was hoping the book would at least be in English. He might not be fluent, but he could usually read basic instructions. 

But Russian? Yeah, Hitoshi didn't speak Enchantment Table.

As he tossed the booklet onto the bed in defeat, Hitoshi felt a presence looming behind him. Turning, he found himself face to face with Katashi, the towering figure casting a shadow over him.

“Having trouble?” Katashi's deep voice rumbled with amusement as he regarded Hitoshi with a knowing smile.

Hitoshi's frustration only deepened at the question. “Do you speak Russian?” he asked, gesturing helplessly at the thermostat. “I have no idea how this thing works, and I’m about to become a popsicle here.” He sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. “You know, sometimes I really envy you zombies. I'd love to never feel cold. Or need sleep.”

Katashi chuckled, the sound reverberating through the room. “Unfortunately, I don't speak Russian either,” he admitted, his tone laced with amusement. “And while not needing to sleep is convenient, I miss being able to dream.”

“You do?” Hitoshi asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you had no memories from before Izuku reanimated you. How can you miss something you don’t remember?”

Katashi chuckled again, a nostalgic glint in his eye. “It's true that I don't have any memories from before being reanimated,” he explained. “But my body still remembers many things. It's hard to explain.” He shrugged and approached the thermostat. “Anyway, let me take a look.”

“Are you sure this is safe? Shouldn't we call Mittens?” Hitoshi asked worriedly. While Katashi wasn't as bad with technology as Ronin, he wasn't that much better.

“Don't worry. I know exactly the trick to make this work,” Katashi grinned. “It's super manly and has never failed me before.”

Hitoshi had a bad feeling about that.

Ignoring Hitoshi's apprehension, Katashi leaned closer to the thermostat, inspecting the array of buttons and dials.

“I got this,” Katashi said with a grin, his voice tinged with confidence. Then, with a swift motion, he pulled his arm back and... punched the thermostat.

As expected, as soon as Katashi's fist connected with the thermostat, sparks started flying. Hitoshi heard a loud bang from above as he looked up to see the heater smoking, then grinding to a halt.

“Manly as hell,” Hitoshi said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Katashi laughed awkwardly, the sheepishness evident in his expression. “Whoops?” he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, looks like we won't be needing that thermostat anymore,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Hitoshi rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help but smirk. “Yeah, now we can enjoy the freezing temperatures without any distractions,” he replied dryly.

“Okay, fair. Not my brightest moment,” Katashi sighed, acknowledging his blunder.

Just then, the door creaked open, and both Katashi and Hitoshi turned to see Mittens sauntering into the room, her tail flickering in annoyance as she had the most unimpressed expression Hitoshi had ever seen a cat make.

Hitoshi and Katashi exchanged a quick glance before pointing a finger at each other, their voices overlapping as they placed blame. 

“His fault!” they said in unison.

…

“That's the last time I ever trust Katashi near any electronic device,” Hitoshi grumbled, shooting a pointed look at the red-haired zombie.

“Yeah, yeah, my bad,” Katashi admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with a guilty expression.

As they kneeled in front of the bed, the atmosphere in the room was tense, punctuated only by Mittens' disapproving stare. Her green eyes glinted with both irritation and amusement, silently scolding them for their reckless behavior.

“So…” Hitoshi scratched the back of his head as he looked at the technopath cat. “Can you fix it?”

“Well... I could. But I didn't bring my Back-Arms, you know?” Mittens said, her amused voice echoing from her voice box. “So you two will have to be my hands for this.”

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. Didn't bring her hands? They had Oboro. He could just open a portal back home, and she could grab whatever she needed. Hitoshi had the distinct feeling she just wanted to mess with them, but well. They didn't have any choice.

So, five minutes later, Hitoshi was perched on Katashi's shoulders, who was standing on a stool, trying to reach the heater to unscrew it and find out how to fix it. Mittens was perched on Hitoshi's other shoulder with a too-pleased expression as she watched the two struggling. 

“A little to the left,” Hitoshi directed, and Katashi carefully leaned to the left. “There. Hold on.”

Balancing carefully, Hitoshi reached out, his fingers deftly maneuvering around the heater's screws. Katashi was tall, but even with the stool, he wasn’t tall enough, so Hitoshi was barely able to reach it, which put them in quite a precarious and unbalanced position. 

Still, with a lot of effort, he managed to unscrew the panel, only to find a mess of wires he had no idea how to start fixing. He glanced at Mittens, waiting for instructions when the door opened again. All three of them turned around, seeing Chihiro at the door, looking at them with a raised eyebrow.

“The heater broke,” Katashi explained.

“Yeah, 'it broke,' right?” Hitoshi said sarcastically.

“Not my job,” Chihiro shook her head and left, closing the door behind her. Hitoshi was about to go back to work when she opened it again. “You know you just had to call the reception, and they'd send someone to fix it, right?”

Hitoshi and Katashi glanced at each other, blinking. “We could do that?”

“Yeah, I know,” Mittens said, making both Katashi and Hitoshi snap their eyes at her. “I just wanted to see them trying to fix it. It’s funny.”

“Fair,” Chihiro shrugged, pulling out her phone and snapping a photo of the scene.

“Wait, Chihiro!” Hitoshi called as she turned around and started to leave.

His sudden movement made Katashi lose balance, and they all tumbled to the floor, with Mittens gracefully jumping from Hitoshi's shoulder and landing on her feet.

“Well, that was fun. Now you can call the reception,” Mittens said before leaving the room as well, leaving Hitoshi and Katashi on the floor.

Hitoshi and Katashi groaned as they picked themselves up, though Katashi's movements were more out of habit than discomfort, given his lack of sensation. They exchanged a glance, sharing a mutual sigh of resignation.

“What are our chances of convincing Chihiro not to share that picture?” Hitoshi asked, already anticipating the answer.

A buzz in Hitoshi’s pocket is all the answer they needed. Hitoshi pulls up his phone and sees a message in their group chat.

Hollywood Undead

TryToHide: 

Photo sent

“Zero,” Katashi replied, his tone resigned but amused.

“Goodbye, my dignity. I’ll miss you,” Hitoshi said dramatically as he walked to the phone, dialing the reception and requesting someone to come fix the heater.

Hitoshi definitely won’t be forgetting this vacation anytime soon.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

As much as Izuku enjoyed his time on vacation, soaking in every moment of fun and relaxation, he knew that all good things come to an end eventually. He packed all his belongings into his suitcase and sighed as he looked around the hotel room. He certainly would be remembering this place, though maybe next time, they should choose a warmer destination.

With the suitcase packed, Izuku unceremoniously spun on his heels and threw the suitcase into the open portal Oboro left in the room. The suitcase dropped right into the mansion living room with a loud thud, and a second later, Sebastian appeared seemingly out of nowhere to collect it.

Izuku could have just stepped out himself, but he had something he wanted to do first. He left the room and headed to the lobby where he had arranged to meet Shouto. The boy and his family were also leaving today, so this was probably Izuku's last chance to talk with him without Endeavor breathing down their necks.

In the lobby, Izuku scanned the area until he spotted Shouto and his family gathering their belongings near the reception desk. Shouto's expression seemed calm, but Izuku couldn't help but notice a hint of tension in his demeanor.

Taking a moment to ensure no one was watching, Izuku discreetly gestured for Shouto to come over. He caught Shouto's eye and gave a subtle nod towards a quieter corner of the lobby, indicating where he wanted to talk.

Shouto easily slipped away from his family without anyone noticing, or perhaps the older girl noticed and chose not to comment on it and walked over to the spot Izuku had indicated.

“Hey, Shouto. You're leaving today as well?” Izuku asked softly, smiling at his friend.

“Yeah,” Shouto sighed. “It was a nice vacation, but I'm sure as soon as we get back home, father's training will be even worse.” He grimaced at the thought.

“I wish I could help more…” Izuku sighed as he reached into his pocket. “Say, how safe are you in your room?”

“Father never enters my room, but he has a bug on my phone that lets him read all my messages and record any calls.” Shouto shrugged. “I'm pretty sure he wants to make sure I don't try to report him.”

“Bastard,” Izuku growled before pulling a phone - suspiciously shaped like a cat head - from his pocket. “Here. This is Mittenphone. Made by our favorite Overlord, Mittens Destroyer of Worlds.” He said with a giggle. “Completely untraceable, you can connect to any Wi-Fi without needing a password or being detected. It has all of our numbers here. Emergency Exit is on speed dial if you ever need it. Just call it, and your location will be sent to us. Oboro will open a portal to your location. No matter where you are.” He carefully placed the phone in Shouto's hand and closed his fingers around it. “I can't do anything to get you away from him yet, but if you ever need to escape, I'll be there for you, Shouto. That's a promise.”

Shouto held the phone in his hand, his fingers tracing over its sleek surface as surprise and gratitude washed over him. He hadn't expected Izuku to offer such a lifeline, especially considering they had only known each other for a short while.

“Thank you, Izuku,” Shouto said sincerely, his voice soft but filled with genuine appreciation. “I don't know what to say…”

“You don't have to say anything,” Izuku replied with a warm smile. “Just keep it safe, okay?”

Before Shouto could respond, they heard Endeavor’s voice, making Shouto flinch. As much as Shouto wanted to stay like this a little longer, he had to leave before his father came to look for him.

“I have to go. But…” Shouto stepped forward, impulsively wrapping his arms around Izuku’s shoulders. “Thank you so much, Izuku. I’ll be in contact.”

With a brief squeeze, Shouto released Izuku and turned to face his family, bracing himself for the return to reality.

Izuku watched with a heavy heart as Shouto rejoined his family, a sense of helplessness gnawing at him. Despite his influence within the Underground, there was little he could do against the Number Two hero. Not without starting a war.

Touching any of the top 50 heroes was akin to inviting the wrath of the HPSC, who would undoubtedly mobilize every top hero to hunt down the perpetrator. This meant basically a full-scale war between the Underground and the Daywalkers. The delicate balance between the two sides of society was something neither side wanted to risk.

It was an unspoken rule within the Silver Star Union: you don’t go after the top 50 heroes. If you do, you're on your own. Only one person ever managed to kill a top hero and escape consequences, and soon after, All Might almost ended the entire Yakuza. Singlehandedly.

So, as much as Izuku wanted to save Shouto, his hands were tied. Underground problems were solved by the Underground. Daywalkers' problems were solved by the Daywalkers. He knew he couldn't dwell on this situation forever, but damn it hurt.

Returning to the hotel room, Izuku wasted no time in sending a message to Oboro. Within seconds, a shimmering portal opened before him, beckoning him back to the familiar surroundings of his home.

Stepping through the portal, Izuku found himself back in his room. Flopping down onto his bed, he let out a heavy sigh. It didn't take long for exhaustion to overtake him, and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

A few hours later, he woke to a faint buzzing sound from his phone. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Izuku reached for the device, curious about the message waiting for him.

Todoroki Shouto:

Is that Izuku?

Am I doing this right?

Izuku smiled at the message and quickly typed his response.

RiseFromYourGrave:

Yep, that's Izuku

Hold on

RiseFromYourGrave changed Todoroki Shouto's name to: CandyCane

CandyCane:

CandyCane? 

Why is that my name?

RiseFromYourGrave:

Image sent (an image of a candy cane)

That's why

CandyCane: 

... 

Fair enough.

Izuku giggled.

RiseFromYourGrave:

Are you already back home?

CandyCane:

Yes.

Fortunately, Father was too tired from the trip to train today.

But he said we’ll be starting at earliest tomorrow.

RiseFromYourGrave:

If he ever takes it too far

Just send me a message

I can have Frank heal you

No strings attached, no matter what

CandyCane:

I’ll keep that in mind.

Thank you, Izuku.

I’m going to try to sleep now.

I’ll need all the energy tomorrow.

Good Night.

RiseFromYourGrave:

Good Night, Shouto

Sweet dreams

🖤🖤🖤

Izuku smiled and put down his phone. At least he knew Shouto was fine for now, and he had a way to ask for help if needed. It was too little, but it would have to be enough for the time being.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Guildmaster Star sighed heavily as he watched the portal materialize within his office, signaling the arrival of Fighter, Warlock, Ranger, and Barbarian. Their expressions spoke volumes of the situation—disappointment, irritation, and a hint of anger.

“Good evening, Gentlemen. Lady,” Star greeted them with a nod, gesturing toward the seats. “I won't keep you waiting with pleasantries. Let's get straight to the point.”

Fighter wasted no time. “How did this happen, Star?” he demanded, his voice edged with frustration.

Star's expression darkened as he weighed his words carefully. “I won't sugarcoat it. Someone I trusted betrayed me,” he confessed, his tone regretful and with a hint of anger. “They used Necromancer's trust in me to approach him. I never requested a health check on him. If I needed, I would have approached him personally.” His resolve hardened. “However, rest assured. I won't let this betrayal go unpunished. Crossing the guild is tantamount to challenging the entire Union.”

Barbarian's grip tightened on the armrest as he leaned forward. “Do you know who it was?”

Star nodded firmly. “Yes, I do. And they will face consequences. However, as the Guild rules state, in cases like this one, the punishment will be chosen by the affected party.”

A silent agreement passed between the four mercenaries as they exchanged glances.

“Putting Necromancer in danger is unforgivable,” Ranger stated, her voice steady.

“Those who cross him must face the consequences,” Warlock added, his tone resolute.

“Death,” they all echoed in unison.

Star nodded in acknowledgment. That was the response he expected from them since the beginning. Their loyalty to Necromancer has always been unwavering.

“It will be done,” he affirmed. “In the name of the Silver Star Guild, I apologize for the oversight that led to this situation. As a gesture of goodwill, I owe Necromancer a favor.”

Favors were rare and valuable commodities in the underground, and having the Guildmaster Star himself owe them one carried immense weight. There were very few things Star, as the Guildmaster of the Silver Star Guild, was incapable of achieving.

Star didn't give out favors lightly, but in this instance, he deemed it necessary. Maintaining Necromancer's trust was paramount, outweighing any potential cost this favor might incur in the future. The kid was indispensable to the guild, both in terms of skill and loyalty, a rare combination in the cutthroat world of the Underground.

Furthermore, on a personal level, Star valued the trust he shared with Necromancer. Individuals like him were a rare find in their line of work.

“Very well. We accept those terms,” Fighter agreed solemnly. “See that something like this never happens again, Guildmaster Star.”

“You have my word,” Star affirmed firmly. “Rest assured, I'll see to it.”

With a nod of understanding, the group left as Warlock conjured another portal for their departure. Once they were gone, Star exhaled a heavy sigh of relief and sank back into his chair.

First-Aid. Yoshida Kenjiro. What a disappointment.

Yoshida had once shone brightly, a diamond in the rough waiting to be polished. Star had taken him under his wing for a good reason. But over the years, greed had clouded his judgment. He grew covetous, always wanting more, his brilliance dimming with each passing day. Still, Star kept him around, recognizing his value to the guild.

However, with Necromancer's arrival, Yoshida started to grow jealous, and such jealousy began to overshadow his worth. Despite having fewer clients since Fixer joined their ranks, First-Aid still commanded a significant share of the business. Yes, it was less than he used to get, but Star never paid him any less than what was fair for his services. 

Yet, it was never enough for him. He started demanding more from Star, saying he wasn’t making enough to survive. Star always saw the truth. The man simply had no self-control. No amount of money would ever be enough for him, not as long as he kept squandering every penny he earned.

To think that his greed would lead him to betray Star himself. To bit the hand that fed him. It seemed Star had been too lenient with him. But it was a mistake he wouldn't repeat.

Betraying Star was an offense much worse than Yoshida could ever hope to understand, one that warranted severe consequences. Left unpunished, it would tarnish the reputation of the entire Union—an outcome Star couldn't afford.

Approaching his desk, Star pressed a concealed button underneath.

“Send in the hounds,” he ordered tersely. “I want him captured within two days, maximum.”

At this point, feelings didn't matter anymore. Yoshida Kenjiro had betrayed him, and he would be dealt with accordingly.

Chapter Text

Izuku took a deep breath as he stood before the heavy steel doors, each adorned with oversized cat sculptures, perfectly matching Mittens’ eccentric style. He was sure they hadn’t been there last week. How had Mittens managed to set this up so quickly?

(He didn’t need to ask why. The answer was obvious: because she could.)

Shaking his head, he moved to the small device in the corner of the door and placed his palm on the scanner. The fingerprint scanner buzzed and then beeped positively. As it confirmed his identity, a retina scanner slid into place. Izuku leaned forward, letting the device read his eye. A second beep sounded, and a keyboard appeared next.

"Really, Mittens? Paranoid, aren’t we?" Izuku muttered as he moved to the keyboard and typed in the code. "Shi ni shi ni go ro shi," he hummed, entering the numbers 4242564.

As soon as he hit the final key, the heavy steel doors began to slide open with a low, mechanical hum. Izuku stepped inside, the doors closing behind him with a resounding thud, leaving him in a dark corridor.

"Lights, please?" Izuku called aloud.

The corridor remained dark for a few seconds before a soft, purring voice echoed through hidden speakers, "Welcome, Izuku. Lights activating."

Rows of L.E.D. lights embedded in the ceiling flickered to life, casting a warm glow that revealed a sleek, high-tech hallway. The walls were adorned with various screens displaying live feeds, status reports, and schematics. The overall design was both futuristic and whimsical, and Izuku couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at all that.

Izuku walked down the corridor, his footsteps echoing softly. As he neared the end, a large, ornate door stood before him, engraved with intricate patterns and more cat motifs. He couldn’t help but smile at the attention to detail.

The door slid open silently, revealing Mittens’ control room. The space was filled with an array of monitors, gadgets, and what appeared to be an entire section dedicated to cat toys. Mittens herself sat perched on a plush, throne-like chair, her tail flicking lazily as she observed Izuku’s entrance.

"Good to see you, Izuku," Mittens purred, her voice box giving her words an almost musical quality. "How do you like the place?"

"Wasn’t this place a medieval-looking dungeon just last week?" Izuku asked as he looked around. "How did you do all this so fast?"

Mittens stretched luxuriously, her tail curling around her as she regarded Izuku with a far too smug expression. "Let’s just say I have my ways," she replied enigmatically. "Anyway, as much as I’d love to brag about my workshop, that’s not why I called you here."

"I figured out." Izuku shrugged and stepped closer. "You said you were testing a few things?"

"Yep!" Mittens cheered. "I’ve been working on some new tech that could be a game-changer for our operations."

Izuku’s curiosity was piqued, and he leaned forward. "What kind of tech are we talking about?"

Mittens’ eyes glowed with excitement as she leaped down from her throne, leading Izuku to a large table in the center of the room. There were several gadgets and devices spread out on it. She unceremoniously shoved everything to the floor before picking up a small device resembling a Rubik’s cube.

"Do you remember how I asked Oboro to let me analyze his mist?" Mittens asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Of course, I remember," Izuku replied, his curiosity growing even more. He recalled the request well; Mittens had been fascinated by Oboro’s mist for some time now.

"Well, I managed to synthesize its essence into this little beauty," Mittens said proudly, holding up the Rubik’s cube-like device. "I call it the Pocket-Giri!"

Izuku’s eyes widened with surprise. "You mean... this device can create portals like Oboro’s mist?"

"Exactly!" Mittens purred, her tail swishing back and forth excitedly. "This is still a prototype, though. This version can only take us to a set location and back, but once I perfect it, I intend for it to be capable of opening a portal anywhere as long as we have the coordinates. For now…" She tapped the table twice, and two other cubes fell down. One was green. The other was purple. "The green one can take you straight to your room. The purple one is for Hitoshi."

"Why Hitoshi?" Izuku asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He’s the one who gave me the idea, so I promised I’d get him one," Mittens replied with a shrug.

"Makes sense, I guess," Izuku muttered before picking up the green cube. "Has it been tested?"

"Yep! Katashi helped me test it," Mittens replied excitedly. "It only took three prototypes for us to get a working one!"

Izuku blinked at the phrasing. "And... What happened with the failures?"

"Oh, nothing much," Mittens waved him off. "The first one simply teleported his arm while the rest stayed behind."

"You call that ’nothing much’!?" Izuku asked, horrified.

"Frank fixed it rather quickly, so no harm done." Mittens replied. "The second one sent him to the wrong place. I had to ask Chihiro and Oboro to bring him back."

"Where did he end up?" Izuku asked, sounding quite worried.

"Somewhere in Siberia, I think," Mittens replied with a nonchalant flick of her tail.

"Siberia... That’s over 5 thousand miles away, Mittens," Izuku sighed, shaking his head.

Mittens blinked innocently, her ears twitching. ’Yeah, but at least his whole body went with him."

"So, the third one worked?" Izuku asked, not wanting to dwell too much on the previous experiments.

"Yep!" Mittens grinned. That was a rather scary expression on a cat. "He tested it over 300 times just to be sure. It’s 100% safe. You can try it now."

Izuku hesitantly glanced at the cube in his hand and back at Mittens. "How do I use this?"

"Just twist the upper row," Mittens explained. "Once you do it, put it on the floor and wait for the portal to open. It takes about ten seconds, and the portal will stay open for about two minutes. Don’t forget to pick up the cube before entering."

Izuku nodded, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He carefully twisted the upper row of the cube, feeling a slight resistance before it clicked into place. Placing it gently on the ground, he took a step back and watched intently.

True to Mittens’ words, after about ten seconds, mist started coming out of the cube, forming a shimmering portal above it. It rippled like a mirage, swirling with faint colors of blue and purple. Izuku glanced at Mittens, who nodded encouragingly.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku stepped through the portal, feeling a tingling sensation as he passed through the threshold. On the other side, he found himself in his own room, exactly as Mittens had promised. Turning back, he saw the portal still open and stepped back into Mittens’ workshop.

"That was amazing!" Izuku exclaimed, filled with awe.

Mittens beamed proudly. "I told you it would work perfectly. Now, you can have instant access to your room from anywhere in the world!"

"Guess Oboro is fired, then," Izuku joked, a big grin on his face.

"Machines are so much better than humans," Mittens replied. "It was bound to happen sooner or later."

Izuku chuckled at Mittens’ comment, shaking his head before looking back at the cube. "How many uses does it have? And how does it recharge?"

Mittens tilted her head thoughtfully, her whiskers twitching as she considered Izuku’s questions. "Great questions, Izuku! Each cube can create portals for up to twenty uses before it needs to recharge. As for recharging, it’s quite simple. You just need to connect it to a power source using a standard USB-C cable," she explained, pointing to a small port on the side of the cube.

"Just like that?" Izuku blinked as he saw the port and turned to her. "No special fuel or anything?"

Mittens nodded, her ears perking up. "Exactly! No special fuel required. The Pocket-Giri runs on a rechargeable internal power source, just like your smartphone or any other electronic device." She gestured towards the USB-C port again. "You can plug it into any standard power outlet or even use a portable power bank to recharge it on the go."

Izuku looked impressed. "That’s really convenient. So, we don’t have to worry about finding rare materials or anything like that?"

Mittens shook her head. "Nope! Just keep it charged, and it’ll be ready to create portals whenever you need."

"That’s amazing," Izuku murmured, marveling at the simplicity of Mittens’ invention. "You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Mittens."

Mittens purred with satisfaction, her tail flicking happily. "Of course. I’m amazing like that!"

Izuku chuckled and reached to scratch behind Mittens’ ear. "Yeah, you are! It certainly was worth coming down here to see this."

"Oh, you think this is all?" Mittens laughed mischievously, her eyes glinting with excitement. She hopped off her chair and trotted over to a nearby workbench cluttered with more gadgets. "Let me show you what else I’ve been cooking up." She pulled something and tossed it to Izuku. "Take a look at this."

Izuku turned the pen-shaped tube over in his hand, inspecting it curiously. It had a sleek, metallic exterior and felt surprisingly light. 

"It’s... a pen?" he ventured, raising an eyebrow at Mittens.

"Nope. Not a pen. Watch this!" Mittens giggled and pressed a small button on the side of the device.

Izuku’s eyes widened as the tube expanded, transforming into a staff handle. Then, from its tip, a curved blade made of shimmering light materialized. It was purple, with the blade’s tip emitting a radiant white glow.

"You made a lightsaber scythe!?" Izuku exclaimed, awe and excitement dancing in his voice.

Mittens grinned proudly, her whiskers twitching with excitement. "Almost! I call it the ’Mittens Blade Mark I’. Cool, right?"

Izuku’s eyes widened with awe as he accepted the weapon into his hands, handling it with careful reverence. The hilt felt smooth and ergonomic, fitting perfectly into his grip. He gave it a tentative twirl, marveling at how effortlessly it spun through the air.

"It’s so much lighter than my scythe," Izuku muttered in amazement, his voice tinged with genuine surprise. He inspected the blade, noting its fine craftsmanship and the shimmering purple hue. Despite its appearance resembling light, it wasn’t plasma like the lightsabers from the movies. "What is it made of?" Izuku asked, his curiosity piqued as he continued to examine the weapon.

Mittens nodded enthusiastically, her tail flicking with satisfaction. "The blade is made of a special composite material. It combines obsidian, titanium, and tungsten, infused with quirks to achieve two main effects. One reduces the weight to nearly negligible levels, making it exceptionally light and easy to wield. The other allows the blade and handle to compress into the pen shape with a simple click of a button. The result is what you have in your hands now."

"How sharp is it?" Izuku asked next, gently touching the blade with his index finger but being careful not to cut himself. He knew by now how to safely handle blades.

Mittens grinned mischievously. "The only thing sharper than that blade is my wits." She winked playfully, her tone teasing. "But seriously, it can easily cut through steel like a hot knife through butter. I’m working on a model that’s a little less lethal, though. Not all of our missions are assassinations, after all."

Izuku nodded, impressed by Mittens’ craftsmanship. He carefully sheathed the blade back into its compact form with another click of the button, marveling at the innovation.

"This is incredible, Mittens," Izuku said earnestly, returning the weapon to her. "Dabi will love this."

Mittens accepted the blade with a pleased expression, her eyes glowing with pride. "I’m sure that skeleton will love it," she laughed. "I’ll work on something for him later. I’ll also be making a few new weapons for Ronin with the same technology."

"Like he needs to be any more of a menace in a fight." Izuku chuckled. With a weapon like that, Ronin might as well be unstoppable. "What else are you working on?"

"A few ideas here and there," Mittens replied with a nonchalant shrug, her eyes gleaming excitedly. "New dimensional speakers for Zashi. A new material for Shouta’s scarf. Gauntlets for Katashi. A new grenade launcher for Frank. Special arrows for Chihiro. A directional device for Dabi’s flames. Remote drones for myself. A better image inductor for Yagi."

"It’s quite the list you have here," Izuku chuckled. If he knew Mittens well, and he did, she would have everything ready before the end of the year. Which was saying something, considering it was already September.

"I have even more planned!" Mittens exclaimed, her grin widening almost manically. "Oh, right. Before I forget, there’s one more thing I wanted you to have." With a flourish, Mittens retrieved a seemingly ordinary pouch from her cluttered workbench. It looked identical to the one Izuku carried in his mercenary garb, down to the smallest detail.

Intrigued, Izuku accepted the pouch, turning it over in his hands. "What’s this?" he asked, studying it closely.

Mittens’ mischievous smirk widened as she opened the pouch, revealing its seemingly magical contents. With dramatic flair, she first pulled out an oversized umbrella that appeared far too large to fit inside the small bag. Izuku’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Next, she extracted an entire hat stand, complete with various hats neatly perched on its hooks. Izuku’s jaw dropped, utterly bewildered yet amused by Mittens’ incredible invention. The pouch defied all logic and spatial constraints.

"What in the world?" Izuku muttered, still trying to wrap his head around the impossibility of the items emerging from the pouch.

Mittens laughed mischievously, clearly enjoying Izuku’s reaction. She reached back into the bag once more, this time retrieving a small diamond-shaped device. Holding it in her paw, she activated it with a touch, and a soft light emanated from the device, coalescing into the shape of a kitchen sink that fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"This is the Mittens’ Infinite Storage Device—name subject to future change," Mittens explained, her voice filled with pride. "It converts any inanimate object it touches into data and stores it inside an internal storage device. You can retrieve the stored items at any moment." She motioned towards Izuku’s phone. "I’ve already downloaded the control app onto your phone. It should function like an inventory system in an RPG game. In the future, I aim to create a controller that you can operate mentally."

Izuku blinked in astonishment, taking in the implications of Mittens’ invention. "So, this can store practically anything?"

"Well… I said ’infinite,’ but it actually has a limit," Mittens admitted with a shrug. "It only has about 2 zettabytes of storage space."

"Which means?" Izuku asked, raising an eyebrow.

"According to my calculations, storing the whole mansion inside it would take about 3 gigabytes of storage," Mittens replied with a smirk.

"Okay... So, unlimited space. Got it," Izuku replied with a laugh, shaking his head at Mittens.

Mittens chuckled, her tail flicking happily behind her. "Exactly! You can use it to store mission gear, spare weapons, emergency supplies, or even your notebooks and snacks. As long as it isn’t alive, not even the sky is the limit."

"I’ll keep that in mind." Izuku laughed as he took the device and turned around in his hands. The shape made it quite easy to carry; he could easily keep it in his pockets or a bag. He could certainly see the potential for chaos with such a device.

He could also see that any and all of the products Mittens showed him today could revolutionize the world. Izuku always knew Mittens was much more than a normal cat, but not even he had predicted just how much. He wondered where she would be today had she not died so young.

Maybe ruling the world alongside Nedzu after overthrowing all governments in the world. As shuddering as the thought was, Izuku had a feeling she could have pulled it off.

It’s a good thing she’s on Izuku’s side. She’s certainly the best cat a kid could ever hope for.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Loud, echoing footsteps reverberated through the deserted streets, each stride ringing ominously against the silent buildings. The night itself seemed to hold its breath, disrupted only by Kenjiro’s ragged gasps and the relentless thudding of his heart in his chest.

Dark alleys blurred as he sprinted, adrenaline pushing him forward despite the futility of escape. No matter how swiftly he raced, his pursuer effortlessly matched his pace. The figure cloaked in darkness chased with an eerie determination, their masked visage revealing only glowing eyes in the gloom.

Kenjiro knew he had made a grave mistake by crossing Guildmaster Star. In all his years under Star’s wing, he had never seen the hounds being deployed. Like the Boogeyman of the Underground, they were spoken of in hushed tones and regarded as legends among those in the Underground. Kenjiro himself didn’t believe they existed before today. Now, their unyielding pursuit made those myths chillingly real.

He darted down narrow passages and turned sharp corners. He grew up in those parts of the city and knew them like the back of his hand. Yet, whenever he glanced back, the figure was right behind him, following at a calm pace, like a monster from a horror movie. Always walking and yet keeping pace easily with Kenjiro’s sprinting.

After what felt like an eternity of desperate flight, Kenjiro stumbled into a secluded, dim alley. Gasping for air, he pressed against the cold brick wall, straining to hear any sign of pursuit amidst the pounding in his ears. To his surprise, no footsteps echoed behind him. Silence enveloped the alley, pierced only by the distant hum of the city.

Taking shaky, deep breaths, Kenjiro tried to steady his racing thoughts. He was safe. For now.

He remembered the words from the man he had sold Necromancer’s blood and found himself regretting the fact he didn’t listen to his warning. Maybe it wasn’t too late? Could he still leave the country without being caught by Star? He had more than enough money for that.

As he looked around, his trembling hands searched for his cigarettes. Eventually finding them, he patted his pockets for a lighter, only to realize it was missing. He was about to give up when a small flame appeared before him.

"Thank you," he murmured, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag.

Then, realization dawned upon him. He was supposed to be alone. Slowly, fear turned his blood cold as he turned to find a figure draped in black, their face concealed by a mask, only piercing red eyes visible in the alley’s dimness.

Kenjiro froze, the cigarette forgotten as it dangled from his lips, staring into the abyss of those chilling eyes.

"Go on," the figure rasped, their voice distorted and eerie. "Finish it."

Kenjiro’s mind raced, his heart thundering in his chest. He understood the figure’s meaning. They were letting him finish his last cigarette. There was no escape, no negotiation.

With trembling hands, Kenjiro raised the cigarette to his lips once more. His gaze locked with the figure’s chilling eyes as he took one final, long drag. The ember glowed brightly in the darkness. 

With a sigh, he dropped the cigarette, and before it hit the ground, the figure stepped forward.

Everything went black for Kenjiro.

End of the line.

Chapter Text

As he slowly regained consciousness, the first sensation that swept over Kenjiro was the enveloping darkness. He felt disoriented, the weight in his head and the dryness of his mouth heightening his discomfort. His body felt stiff and uncomfortable, and as he attempted to move, he realized his hands were tightly bound.

A moment later, he became aware that the room wasn’t actually dark; his face was covered with a bag, making breathing difficult. Panic began to rise within him as he struggled against his restraints. His whole body ached as if he had endured a severe beating. Where was he? Why was everything so foggy? Who was he again?

As he tried to focus, things slowly came back to him. His last memories were of a dark alley, a shadowy figure chasing him. A last cigarette and…

“Fuck,” Kenjiro muttered as he realized where he was.

A moment later, the bag was ripped from his face, and he winced as the light suddenly hit his eyes. With growing horror, he took in his surroundings. The room had an eerie blend of a church and a tribunal, the kind of dramatic setting Guildmaster Star favored. The walls were adorned with ancient tapestries depicting scenes of battle and conquest, and the room was dimly lit by torches flickering in sconces. At the far end, elevated on a dais, sat Guildmaster Star in a high-backed chair, his expression bored as he polished his monocle with a cloth.

“It pains me a lot to see you like this, Kenjiro-kun,” Guildmaster Star said, his cold and detached voice not matching his words at all. “You used to have such a beautiful shine, like a diamond.”

“Star, I—” Kenjiro started to speak.

“But now,” Star cut him off sharply. “This shine is practically extinguished. You are barely a firefly now. This is your last chance to be useful.”

Behind Star, a light lit up, and Kenjiro’s eyes widened as he saw a high chair where a boy with green hair and green robes sat. The boy’s eyes were devoid of any light as he stared Kenjiro down, his cheeks lazily resting on his right hand.

“Necromancer…” Kenjiro whispered in horror.

“Hello, Kenjiro-san. I never got the results of that exam you told me Guildmaster Star requested,” Necromancer said in a cold tone, tilting his head to the side. “I wonder what happened.”

“I really wonder that as well,” Guildmaster nodded. “After all, I never requested any exam. So, tell me, Kenjiro. What happened to the vial with Necromancer’s blood you took?”

“I… I… Star, I…” Kenjiro stammered, his voice cracking with fear and regret. His mind raced, scrambling for any semblance of an excuse that could placate the looming consequences.

“Your shine keeps dimming, Kenjiro,” Star interjected coldly, his tone cutting through the air like a blade. “If you have nothing to say, I guess you have no more use to us.”

“No, wait!” Kenjiro pleaded, desperation tainting his words. “I sold it! I sold it for a hundred million yen!”

“A hundred million?” Star’s chuckle was devoid of warmth, laden with disdain. “You betrayed me for so little? Did you hear that, Necromancer?”

“Wow, is that how much my blood is worth, Star?” Necromancer’s voice was flat, unimpressed.

“If I were to sell it, I wouldn’t accept less than a billion yen, my dear,” Star replied with a humorless chuckle. “But I guess expecting a man overtaken by greed to be rational wouldn’t be logical.”

“I had to do it!” Kenjiro shouted, his voice strained with desperation. “I needed the money. I was in debt. I wasn’t making enough. I haven’t been making enough since this brat came in with his miraculous ‘Fixer’ and took all my clients!”

“As far as I remember, I still paid you, Kenjiro-kun,” Star retorted coldly, his eyes narrowing into a glare. “Even though you didn’t have as many particular clients as Fixer, I continued paying you the same.”

“It wasn’t enough!” Kenjiro protested frantically. “I needed more so—”

“So you could keep squandering every last penny you got?” Star interrupted sharply, raising an eyebrow at him. “You made more in a month than several of the guild’s mercenaries, yet it was never enough for you.”

“I… I…” Kenjiro faltered, his excuses crumbling under Star’s relentless scrutiny.

“Doesn’t matter,” Star dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I’m not here to talk about your excuses. I’m here to talk about the person you sold the blood to.”

“I don’t know…” Kenjiro clenched his teeth, his heart sinking with dread.

“Lying to me won’t gain you any favors, Kenjiro-kun.” Star’s voice was frigid and devoid of mercy.

“I never got his name! I swear!” Kenjiro pleaded desperately. “He was a short, fat, bald man with a bushy, gray mustache and weird goggles. They were shaped like gears. That’s all I know. I didn’t ask any questions. I don’t know why he needed the brat’s blood.”

Kenjiro’s pulse quickened as he saw Star’s expression darken, a storm brewing in the depths of the guildmaster’s eyes.

“You don’t know what you did, Kenjiro,” Star’s tone was laced with anger. “You don’t know the person you just gave access to, possibly the strongest quirk that ever passed by the Union.”

“Star, please, I—” Kenjiro started to plead, desperation etched into every word.

“It doesn’t matter,” Star’s voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and final. His anger dissipated into an eerie calmness. “Your shine is gone for good. Looks like you have served all your use, Kenjiro. Necromancer, your sentence?”

Kenjiro’s gaze shifted to the child-like figure seated high above, exuding an eerie calmness that sent shivers down his spine. With deliberate languor, he raised his arm, thumb pointed to the side. Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, he turned his thumb downwards, his gaze locking onto Kenjiro’s with chilling intensity.

“No!” Kenjiro’s voice cracked with despair, his whole body trembling against the unforgiving restraints. “Please, Guildmaster, Necromancer, I beg you!”

“Yoshida Kenjiro,” Star’s authoritative voice cut through his plea, silencing him immediately. “Your membership to the Silver Star Union has now been revoked.”

With those words, Star turned abruptly and departed, leaving behind a lingering silence that was broken only by the echo of Necromancer’s boots as he descended from his elevated seat and followed the Guildmaster.

For a few tense seconds, the room was consumed by silence. Then, Kenjiro heard footsteps approaching from multiple entrances. He turned his head slowly, dread gripping his heart as he saw figures emerging from the shadows:

Arsonist, draped in a tattered blue overcoat, his skeletal fingers wrapped tightly around a handgun.

Fixer, with white hair and a spotless lab coat, his eyes cold and calculating as he aimed a pistol at Kenjiro.

Fighter, raven-haired and clad in black, his expression unreadable as he held a gun with unwavering precision.

Ranger, a woman with jet-black hair and piercing red eyes, her gaze sharp and unforgiving as she aimed her firearm.

Barbarian, muscular and red-haired with a dragon tattoo coiling around his chest, muscles taut as he gripped a gun.

Warlock, wavy-haired in a bartender-like suit, his gun held lazily in his hand.

“Please, I’m sorry,” Kenjiro pleaded, tears streaming down his face as he struggled futilely against his bindings.

The six figures stopped, surrounding Kenjiro on all sides. Each held their weapon with a steady hand, their expressions resolute.

“For threatening Necromancer…” Fighter began, his voice grave.

“Death is your punishment,” they intoned in unison.

Kenjiro could do nothing but close his eyes and await the inevitable…

Six gunshots rang through the room…

Then, nothing but silence…

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Izuku slouched in the chair, accepting the cup of tea that Guildmaster Star handed him with a nod of thanks. The brew’s aroma filled the air, momentarily soothing the tension lingering in the room.

“I hope I never have to do this again,” Izuku muttered wearily, taking a small sip of the tea to soothe his parched throat.

“I apologize for the dramatics, Necromancer, but it was necessary,” Star began, his voice carrying a weight of experience. He handed Izuku a small plate of biscuits before continuing. “Betrayals are rare within the Union. Those who dare to betray us know the consequences.”

“And yet, occasionally, someone will still try their luck,” Izuku replied, his weariness palpable. He set down the tea and leaned back, his gaze drifting to the tapestries casting flickering shadows on the walls.

Star’s expression turned grave, his eyes reflecting the seriousness of their discussion. “Indeed. When such incidents occur, we must act swiftly to protect the Union’s integrity. Trust is our foundation. If left unpunished, any breach could jeopardize not just the Guild but the entire Union.”

Izuku nodded in understanding. What happened just now didn’t really bother him. Death never bothered Izuku. He had a very close relationship with death. It wouldn’t have bothered him even if he had pulled the trigger himself. 

It didn’t mean he liked taking lives, though. Even if he could do it without blinking. Izuku might be indifferent towards death, but he still valued life.

“The way you reacted when he mentioned the buyer…” Izuku’s eyes narrowed slightly as they met Star’s, who was setting up a chessboard with practiced ease. “You know who it is, don’t you?”

Star sighed softly, his focus now on the chess pieces as he made the first move with a pawn. 

“I believe I do,” he admitted quietly, inviting Izuku to make his move.

Considering his strategy for a moment, Izuku moved a pawn forward. 

“Who?” he pressed gently, his crew entering the room in the aftermath of the execution.

Star observed the crew for a moment longer before making another move on the chessboard. “Do you know the story of the Silver Star Union?” he asked, his tone shifting to one of introspection.

Izuku shook his head as he contemplated his next move on the chessboard, Mittens perched on his shoulder with curious eyes. The rest of the crew settled into seats around them, their attention now focused on Star’s narrative.

“The Silver Star Union,” Star began, his voice tinged with nostalgia as he considered his next move. “Was founded during the Dawn of Quirks, a chaotic era of lawlessness and uncertainty. Villains and vigilantes roamed unchecked, and crime lords sought dominance with ruthless ambition. It was a time of constant upheaval.”

“The Hero Public Safety Commission emerged during that era,” Izuku added thoughtfully. He had studied it with Nedzu. “Initially, their aim was to regulate and oversee vigilantes. Over time, they monopolized hero licensing, effectively controlling the entire industry.”

“Indeed,” Star nodded solemnly. “But as often happens, noble intentions can be corrupted by greed.” He sighed as he moved a rook. “There were other factions as well. The Yakuza, long before quirks, were already a powerful criminal organization. The advent of quirks provided an opportunity for them to expand their influence. Ten powerful Yakuza families united, swallowing rivals to dominate the criminal underworld. And then there was the Meta Liberation Army, led by Destro, advocating for the unrestricted use of quirks.”

“The first Underground Union also emerged,” Star continued, his voice tinged with respect. “Comprising vigilantes disillusioned who, for one reason or another, didn’t want to be controlled by the Hero Public Safety Commission. They preferred the freedom of unregulated vigilantism. And of course, the West Mercenary Corps, known for its readiness to undertake any job for the right price.”

Izuku absorbed Star’s words with keen interest. Other than the HPSC and the MLA, these groups were unfamiliar to him. There wasn’t mention of them in the history books, as if their histories had been deliberately erased from the public record.

“Among these factions,” Star continued, his tone growing more somber, “there arose one force that soon became far too powerful for anyone’s liking. His name became a legend, spoken of in fear, admiration, and sometimes both. He was known as the Boogeyman of the Underground.”

Star continued in a hushed tone, his words laden with the weight of history. “He operated in the shadows, his influence extending like tendrils through every corner of the Underground. No one knew his origins, but with his ability to grant and take quirks, he was revered like a deity. His power and reach grew unchecked, threatening to engulf Japan.”

“All for One…” Izuku muttered softly, the name resonating with ominous significance.

Star nodded gravely. “Indeed, All for One. A name that struck fear into those who dared to oppose him. He built a legion of devoted followers, each bound to him by fear or admiration. It didn’t matter in the end. The Underground, however, was not one to submit without a fight.”

“During that tumultuous time,” Star continued, his gaze distant as he recounted the past, “the ten heads of the Yakuza, Destro, Shigaraki Yoichi of the Underground Union, Captain Arashi of the West Mercenary Corps, and even the first president of the HPSC convened to discuss the threat.”

Izuku couldn’t help but envision the tension in that room, the clash of egos and ideologies among all those leaders. “I can’t imagine that meeting went smoothly,” he remarked with a hint of humor.

Star chuckled softly. “I can only speculate as well. Sadly, no records of that meeting have survived to this day. What I do know is that in the face of a common enemy greater than any of them, they set aside their differences and formed an alliance.”

Standing up, Star gestured towards the symbol of their Union on the wall. “That alliance became known as the Silver Star Union.”

“As the years passed,” Star continued, his voice steady, “the Union evolved into a bastion of stability and order within the chaotic landscape of the Underground. Our mission has always been to uphold that balance on the Underground.”

He paused, his gaze drifting momentarily to the symbol of the Silver Star Union on the wall before returning to meet Izuku’s eyes. “Yet, even with all our combined strength and influence, we never managed to fully subjugate All for One. That man was truly a monster among monsters.”

“Until All Might.” Izuku pointed out.

“Interesting that you know about that,” Star said with a smirk. “But I shouldn’t be surprised. I do believe you have something to do with the return Symbol of Peace. I won’t pry, though.” he chuckled. “You are right. After All Might triumphed over All for One, we thought he was finally gone. The remnants of the Yakuza and the Meta Liberation Army already started preparing their moves to fill the power gap the Boogeyman left behind.”

“For you to tell us this story now…” Izuku frowned as the implications hit me. “The man that bought my blood. He wants to bring All for One back, doesn’t he?”

“It’s my theory,” Star nodded solemnly. “This doctor is a well-known figure in the Underground. He used to be All for One’s right-hand man, but no one has heard of him since the fight between All for One and All Might.”

“My blood…” Izuku felt his hands tightening in fists. “If All for One becomes a zombie, he’ll be even more powerful. My zombies never grow tired. They don’t need to eat, drink, or rest. They only die if they are completely decimated. All for One would be unstoppable.”

Star nodded. “I am doing everything I can to locate the doctor. However, we need to be ready for the possibility that All for One will return. If he does…”

“He will want my quirk,” Izuku said grimly.

“Stay vigilant, Necromancer,” Star advised. “The guild has your back, but All for One is powerful.”

Izuku knew he had to tell Shouta, Nedzu, and All Might. This was much bigger than anyone could understand, and he had no idea how long it would take for All for One to return. They had to be ready.

Izuku nodded as he got up from his seat. “Warlock, let’s go home.” 

Oboro got up, as did the others who listened to the whole story in silence. No one knew what to say about what they just heard.

As everyone went through Oboro’s portal, there was only one thought going through every single one of Izuku’s friends.

If that freak wants Izuku, he’ll have to go through us.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Inside a dimly lit, shadowy laboratory, rows upon rows of cylindrical tubes filled with murky, greenish fluid lined the cold, steel walls. Each chamber housed a grotesque creature with mottled purple skin, its eyes closed, an exposed brain glistening eerily under the faint, greenish glow. The dim illumination cast unsettling shadows on the still forms suspended within the viscous liquid.

Dr. Garaki stood before one of the tubes, his bespectacled eyes fixed intently on the flickering scans displayed on the monitor beside him. Inside the tube, the creature twitched violently, a brief, frantic spasm of life before falling still once more. The cacophony of beeps and alarms from the monitor confirmed what he already suspected.

“Another failure,” Dr. Garaki muttered, frustration and resignation clear in his voice as he marked his clipboard with a sharp, decisive stroke. “Doing this without Master is so complicated.”

With a weary sigh, he walked to the center of the room, where a larger, more ominous tube stood. Inside it floated the mutilated figure of his Master, All For One. The villain’s head was caved in during his climactic battle with All Might, leaving the body almost unrecognizable.

All For One’s body drifted in the viscous fluid, tubes and wires protruding from his pallid skin at all angles, pumping it with an array of medicines and quirks. Despite all the doctor’s efforts, he could only preserve the body; his Master had been dead for years.

But not for long, Garaki vowed.

Resurrecting the dead was supposed to be impossible, yet there was one person who showed to be capable of defying that law, and Garaki had the key right in his hands. He approached a transparent container, carefully stored to preserve its contents: a vial of crimson liquid—Necromancer’s blood. He stroked his mustache thoughtfully, his gaze fixated on the vial.

The doctor knew he had to be cautious. He had been lucky to acquire this blood, but Guildmaster Star wasn’t someone to be fooled twice. This was his only chance, and he needed to use it wisely. He had spent days meticulously analyzing the blood, striving to comprehend the intricacies of Necromancer’s quirk and how he could harness it to resurrect his Master.

Under a microscope, he observed a single drop of the blood, isolating the quirk factor to understand its mechanics. By now, Garaki was confident he knew more about this quirk than even its owner did. It was the most beautiful quirk he had ever seen. If only Master were here to see it. Garaki had no doubt All For One would have stopped at nothing to acquire such a quirk. It was the missing piece they needed. With it, they could perfect the Nomus once and for all.

An army of immortal Nomu, possessing boundless power, loyal only to All For One. The mere thought brought tears of joy to Garaki’s eyes.

But he was getting ahead of himself. These grand dreams would remain nothing but fantasies until he succeeded in bringing All For One back. And for that, he first needed to find a way to bypass the most problematic aspect of Necromancer’s quirk.

The reanimated zombies were ingrained with familial instincts toward their user, and the user could force them into obedience if necessary. Garaki couldn’t risk using the blood on All For One until he found a way to circumvent that control. All For One was the Master; no one could ever control him.

“Hey, Doctor!” Garaki felt his eye twitch as the brat suddenly barged into his room. “When will the new Kurogiri be ready?”

“He’ll be ready when he’s ready!” Garaki snapped back.

How he wished he could just get rid of this brat, but Master wanted him for some reason. Garaki never understood why Master wanted to keep him around. Tomura was nothing but a spoiled child who threw tantrums and broke things whenever he didn’t get what he wanted. He had been particularly enraged when he discovered that Kurogiri had been stolen and only stopped his tantrum when Garaki promised him a new Kurogiri.

“It’s been months already! How long does it take to make a warp gate Nomu?” Tomura’s voice grated with impatience and frustration.

Garaki gritted his teeth, steadying himself before turning to face Shigaraki. His expression was carefully controlled, though a hint of irritation lingered in his eyes.

“These things take time, Tomura,” Garaki replied evenly, his voice measured. “Creating a new Kurogiri isn’t as simple as snapping my fingers. Especially now that Master is indisposed, and I no longer have the base quirk. Until I can bring Master back, our supplies are limited.”

Tomura’s face twisted with frustration, his gloved fingers twitching dangerously close to the delicate equipment on a nearby table.

“You better get something done soon!” Tomura snapped, his tone sharp with impatience, before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Garaki sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion and annoyance. He watched as several of his precious test tubes rattled and fell to the floor, shattering upon impact.

“Fucking brat,” Garaki muttered under his breath, his frustration evident. “If Master didn’t have some use for you, I’d have turned you into a Nomu by now.”

With a shake of his head, Dr. Garaki assessed the damage. Fortunately, nothing of irreplaceable value was lost in Tomura’s outburst. If the brat had ruined the only chance Garaki had of bringing back Master, he would have seriously considered turning him into a Nomu without a second thought.

Once he finished cleaning the mess, Garaki turned back to his notes on Necromancer’s quirk. Perfecting it would take more time, but he was confident he could synthesize a serum from the quirk that might revive Master. Perhaps in a year or two, with diligent effort.

For now, he needed to focus on Kurogiri 2.0. Tomura’s tantrums were becoming increasingly destructive, and Garaki couldn’t risk another setback.

Chapter Text

Despite the looming threat of All for One's potential return, life within the Silver Star Union continued with an almost unsettling normalcy. The days were quiet, and the Underground seemed content, the usual ebb and flow of power struggles and clandestine dealings taking precedence. It was as if the specter of All for One’s resurrection was merely a distant nightmare, one that could be easily forgotten in the light of day.

Yet, beneath this veneer of calm, the Silver Star Guild was anything but idle. Every resource, every connection, and every ounce of influence was marshaled in the search for the elusive doctor who had purchased Izuku’s blood. Star, driven by a sense of urgency that few could comprehend, led the charge personally. He refused to delegate the task to others, knowing that if anyone could evade even the most meticulous pursuit, it was All for One.

The days stretched into weeks, and then into months. The leads grew scarcer, and the trail colder, but Star’s resolve did not waver. The hunt for All for One became a game of shadows, a test of patience and will. Still, life couldn’t halt for legends and whispers. The Guild had to keep operating, and to most of its members, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

The news of All for One’s possible return was kept tightly under wraps, known only to the highest echelons of power within the Union. After all, the organizations that once formed the backbone of the Silver Star Union had evolved or disappeared entirely.

The West Mercenary Corps had been fully absorbed into the Silver Star Guild, losing its separate identity but gaining a stronger, unified force. The Underground Union had forged a tentative alliance with the Hero Public Safety Commission, merging yet maintaining a degree of independence that allowed them to operate in the shadows. Few knew that the Meta Liberation Army was still very much alive, led by Re-Destro, biding its time, waiting for the right moment to strike. As for the Yakuza, only the Shie Hassaikai remained, a shadow of their former glory, yet still a force to be reckoned with.

In this delicate balance, the leaders agreed to keep the possible return of All for One a closely guarded secret. The public knew nothing of the danger that lurked in the background. Panic had to be avoided at all costs, and so the facade of normalcy continued.

Star, ever vigilant, carried on his investigation in silence, sharing his findings only with his most trusted inner circle. To the rest of the Guild, it was business as usual. Deals were made, missions were executed, and life moved on, blissfully unaware of the storm that might one day descend upon them all.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Izuku sat at the bar counter within the guild, his small frame barely reaching the polished surface. His emerald eyes stared down at the cup of purple liquid in front of him, watching as it shimmered under the dim lights. The rich, vibrant color was almost mesmerizing, though he knew it was nothing more than simple grape juice. Still, he could pretend.

No matter how many times he asked—or even attempted to bribe the bartenders—they steadfastly refused to serve him alcohol. It was absurd. He was the Necromancer, one of the most feared and respected figures in the Underground, yet here he was, being treated like a child when it came to something as trivial as a drink. It was almost comical, really—almost.

So what if he was just 14? He had taken lives, navigated the dangerous and treacherous world of the Underground, and commanded a level of power that would make grown men tremble. And yet, when it came to something as simple as a sip of wine, everyone turned into a bunch of worrywarts.

Izuku let out a small, frustrated sigh as he picked up the cup, swirling the juice around before taking a sip. It wasn't like he wanted to get drunk—it was a matter of principle! Everyone treated him like an adult in every other aspect of his life. A sip of wine wouldn’t hurt anyone, certainly not him.

But no, apparently, on this matter, he was still very much a child.

“You know, sulking like this isn't helping your case, right?” Frank’s voice interrupted Izuku’s thoughts. The older man slid onto the stool next to him, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he nursed a glass of actual wine.

“Shut up, Fixer,” Izuku grumbled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He wasn’t pouting. Definitely not.

Frank chuckled, the sound low and amused, as he took another sip from his glass. “I'm just saying, kid. You’re not exactly making it easier for them to see you as the mature, responsible adult you want to be.”

“I'm already 14,” Izuku muttered as he downed his drink and slammed the cup on the counter. “What difference do six more years make?”

“If it's so little, then waiting will be no problem,” the bartender interjected as he filled Izuku's cup with more juice. “But rules are rules.”

Izuku huffed, glaring at the freshly filled cup of juice. “Why do you even have this rule? Do you usually serve children here?”

“You'd be surprised,” the bartender chuckled as he wiped down the counter. “Most of the children who end up here are either lost kids who find the place by chance or are related to someone.”

“Yeah, right,” Izuku sighed as he took another sip from the cup. It was good juice, but still! “The people here are surprisingly fine with having their families known.”

“They feel safe since the rules protect them,” the bartender shrugged. “It's not like most mercenaries have personal enemies. Most people know to point their weapons at the employers, not the employees.”

“Still, sounds a little too careless,” Izuku mumbled. “Guess we’re a little too paranoid.”

“Well, to be fair, we do have a few enemies,” Frank pointed out, leaning back in his seat.

Izuku rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, the door opened. Not the secret door that the mercenaries used, but the public entrance—the one that first-timers and those with less discretion preferred. A sudden hush fell over the room as the newcomer stepped inside. Conversations trailed off, and more than a few glares were shot in her direction, though no one made a move.

The newcomer was a woman with striking brown eyes and red hair, neatly styled into three distinct bangs that framed her face. She was dressed conservatively, with a knee-length skirt, dark leggings, high-heeled shoes, and a turtleneck sweater with a loose collar. Her appearance was unassuming, almost out of place amidst the more rugged and eclectic crowd of the Guild.

But despite her reserved demeanor, there wasn’t a single person here who didn’t immediately recognize her for what she was—a Limelight Hero. The very sight of her set many on edge. The Guild had never had a particularly favorable opinion of Limelight Heroes, those who basked in the public eye, playing the role of saviors for the adoring masses. This one, in particular, was known more for her work as a rescue hero than for combat, but the sentiment was the same.

The woman moved with a controlled grace, trying to project an air of calm. However, her tense posture and keen eyes betrayed her heightened alertness, as though she was prepared for any sign of hostility. Her lack of a hero costume indicated that she wasn’t there to fight, and according to guild rules, no one was permitted to act against her unless she provoked them first.

The guild's principles were simple: everyone was welcome as long as they respected the rules. This included Limelight Heroes, much to the chagrin of some of the more militant members.

As Mandalay approached the bar counter, her gaze briefly settled on Izuku, a flicker of surprise evident in her eyes at seeing a child in such an establishment. She quickly masked her reaction, turning her attention to the bartender. Izuku noted her skill in concealing her emotions—something not all Limelight heroes managed with such finesse.

“Can I help you?” the bartender asked, his tone shifting to one of professional reserve. The friendliness he had shown to Izuku and Frank was absent, replaced by a curt, impersonal demeanor.

“I'm looking for someone,” Mandalay replied, her voice carefully controlled. “I heard I might find him here.”

“Order something,” the bartender retorted, his tone flat and dismissive as he wiped down a cup with practiced motions. He seemed to be testing her patience, but Mandalay maintained her composure, a notable feat given that usually, a Limelight hero would start throwing a tantrum as soon as things didn’t go exactly as they wanted to.

Impressed, Izuku observed as Mandalay took a steadying breath, her eyes scanning the bottles and glasses behind the bar. “I'll have an iced tea, please,” she said with calm resolve.

The bartender nodded and began to prepare the drink with a deliberate slowness, casting occasional glances at Mandalay. “As for the person you're looking for, he might be here, or he might not. Who exactly are you searching for?”

“I heard he goes by ‘Necromancer,’” Mandalay stated.

At the mention of the name, a hush fell over the room. Conversations that had tentatively resumed came to an abrupt halt, and all eyes refocused on the Limelight hero. Izuku took a sip of his grape juice, deliberately remaining neutral despite the sudden surge of attention.

“I see…” The bartender placed the iced tea on the counter and leaned in slightly, his interest piqued. “And what do you want with him?”

Mandalay took the iced tea from the bartender with a polite nod, savoring a careful sip as if the act itself was a means to gather her thoughts and steady her composure. The room's sudden silence was palpable, and she was acutely aware of the eyes fixed on her. It was impossible to ignore the weight of their scrutiny.

Izuku was strong and capable, his reputation preceded him and everyone knew that. But despite that, he was still a child, and a lot of people in the guild had a soft spot for him, Guildmaster Star included. So, it was to be expected that a lot of people would feel uncomfortable about a Limelight Hero asking about him.

“That's between me and him,” Mandalay said firmly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

“If you've managed to find this place, you must understand our rules,” the bartender replied with a frosty edge to his voice. “No exceptions. Definitely not for a Limelight.”

“I assure you, I'm not looking for trouble,” Mandalay responded, raising her hands in a gesture of peace. “My reasons for seeking him out are entirely professional.”

Frank, catching the underlying tension, exchanged a discreet glance with Izuku.  Izuku nodded subtly, indicating his willingness to hear her out.

Frank placed his glass down with a decisive clink and leaned forward, adopting a tone that was markedly more accommodating. “Well, if you're looking for the boss, I might be able to assist,” he offered, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice. He glanced at the bartender. “Could we arrange for one of the private rooms?”

The bartender’s eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation but ultimately gave a reluctant nod. “You can use the usual room.”

“Thanks, chef,” Frank said with a casual salute as he rose from his seat. “Put the drinks on my tab.”

Izuku watched as Frank and Mandalay departed for the private room, his gaze lingering on the closed door before he sprang from his seat. With a fluid stretch, he turned his attention to the bartender, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Looks like I’m getting another job,” he said, brushing off any lingering tension with a casual air.

The bartender eyed him with a mix of concern and skepticism. “Be careful, kid. It could be a trap.”

Izuku shook his head, his confidence evident. “Maybe, but I don’t think it is. Her eyes seemed sincere.” His smile widened. “I’ll at least hear her out.” He fished out his wallet, carefully pulling his guild card and paying for the drinks. After leaving a generous tip, he offered a final nod to the bartender. “See you later, chef.”

With that he left as well, pulling his Mittenphone and sending a message to the rest of the group. A few were busy right now, but he was sure that at least Ronin and Oboro would be free.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

To say Sosaki Shino was having second thoughts about this would be an understatement. She was a hero, a rescue hero at that. Her entire existence revolved around saving lives and ensuring safety. Yet, here she was in one of the most dubious corners of the Underground, about to negotiate with one of the most infamous and fearsome mercenaries.

Shino had known about the Silver Star Union for some time. After all, she was friends with Aizawa, and while they weren’t particularly close, she was aware enough to recognize the significance of this place. Finding it had been surprisingly easy, to the point that she questioned whether they even made an effort to conceal it.

The thought made the place seem even more ominous.

Despite her second thoughts, Shino wasn’t ready to back down. Her reasons for being here were personal, not heroic at all, but she was here as Sosaki Shino, not as Mandalay from the Wild Wild Pussycats. She was here as a grieving sister.

As she entered the private room behind Fixer, she glanced around, her apprehension evident. Fixer gestured to a chair and told her to make herself comfortable while he contacted his boss. Shino expected to wait for a few hours at least, but to her surprise, it was less than five minutes before a swirling black portal materialized in the room.

Three figures emerged: a pale man with black hair, a second man with hair that resembled swirling purple clouds, and finally, the child she had noticed at the bar earlier.

Shino's eyes widened in shock as she recognized the child. What was a kid even doing in a place like this.

“So, I heard you're looking for Necromancer,” the black-haired man said, stepping into the room with a calm, measured tone.

“I am,” Shino replied, her gaze still lingering on the child. “Is that you?”

The man chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, no. You may call me Fighter,” he said, gesturing to himself with a confident air. “This is Warlock,” he added, indicating the purple-haired man. “And this,” he said with a smirk, pointing to the child, “is Necromancer.”

Shino's eyes widened even further as she took in the sight of the child sitting regally in an expensive-looking chair, crossing one leg over the other with an air of effortless authority.

“Is that a joke?” Shino couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice as the question slipped out.

The child, who seemed far too composed for his age, giggled softly at Shino's reaction. His green eyes, devoid of warmth, met hers with an unsettling calm.

“Hardly,” Necromancer replied, his voice carrying a level of maturity that belied his youthful appearance. “I am Necromancer.”

Shino raised an eyebrow. “Necromancer has been active for about eight years. You don’t look older than twelve.”

“I'm fourteen,” Necromancer said with a hint of irritation. “I've been at this since I was six. It may be surprising, but age is just a number in the Underground.” He waved off her concern with a flick of his wrist. “But let’s not dwell on that. I understand you want to hire my team.”

Despite her lingering doubts, Shino knew she was desperate enough to seek help wherever she could, even if it meant turning to someone with a reputation as formidable as Necromancer’s. If anything, knowing Necromancer’s true age only made his reputation even scarier.

“I heard you’re the best,” she said, her voice steady but cautious. “There’s someone I… Someone I need dead.”

For a brief moment, Shino saw a flicker of surprise cross Necromancer’s face, but it quickly vanished as he regained his composure. His gaze remained fixed on her, unflinching.

“Mandalay from the Wild Wild Pussycats wants to hire me to kill someone?” Necromancer asked, a note of incredulity in his tone.

Shino took a deep breath, trying to steady her trembling hands. “Yes. I need someone dead, and I was informed that you and your team could handle it.”

Necromancer’s expression remained unchanged, but a flicker of intrigue shone in his eyes. “And who is this person you want gone?” he asked, his tone shifting to a more businesslike cadence.

“The Carnal Murderer: Muscular,” Shino responded.

At the mention of the name, Necromancer's eyes momentarily widened, reflecting recognition. “Muscular,” he repeated thoughtfully, rolling the name over his tongue. “One of the few who managed to get completely banned from the Silver Star Union, yet still manages to evade capture.” He leaned back in his chair, his demeanor suggesting contemplation rather than immediate dismissal.

“Interesting indeed,” Fighter interjected, his curiosity evident. “Why would a hero seek out the death of an A-Rank villain?”

Shino's fist clenched, her knuckles whitening. “Muscular... He’s the reason my nephew lost his parents. They fought him to protect civilians. Though they managed to drive him off, it cost them their lives.”

Necromancer's gaze turned contemplative as he began mumbling almost too quickly for Shino to follow. “Muscular has killed many heroes. However, he’s been off the radar for a while. The urgency in your voice suggests this was recent. Few hero duos are open about their relationships, but those who are and have recently died... Oh, I see. The Water Hose Duo, right?”

“Y-Yes,” Shino said, astonished at his swift deduction. “They died fighting him. Their son... He lost everything. I’m the only family he has left. Yet, the HPSC refuses to act, claiming he’s too dangerous to handle lightly. How many more lives will this monster claim before they do something? I can’t let this continue. He needs to be stopped!”

“I understand,” Necromancer said, his voice steady. He fixed Shino with his piercing green eyes. “Tell me, Mandalay, what is it that you truly seek? Justice?” His gaze bore into her. “Or revenge?”

Shino’s gaze wavered under Necromancer’s intense scrutiny. His question cut to the core, and she found herself grappling with the truth of her feelings. For a moment, words eluded her.

“I... I want justice,” she finally said, though her voice trembled slightly, betraying her uncertainty. It felt more like a self-affirmation than a declaration. “I need to see Muscular pay for what he’s done. For all the lives he’s destroyed. But the HPSC... they refuse to act.”

Necromancer continued to watch her, his expression unreadable. After a few tense moments, he let out a resigned sigh.

“I see,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of disappointment. “Well, assassinations aren’t cheap;”

Shino's heart sank at his words, but she steeled herself, determined to maintain her composure. “I’m aware of that. I’m prepared to pay whatever it costs. This is too important to me.”

“Understood,” Necromancer replied, nodding. “In that case, I will accept the job. We can discuss the payment details later. Be prepared to pay the full amount.”

Shino felt a heavy weight settle on her shoulders, as if she were bargaining with a devil for her soul. Despite the unease, her resolve did not falter. 

“I will,” she said firmly, her voice steady even as her heart raced.

Chapter Text

Tracking down Muscular turned out to be laughably simple. His real name, Imasuji Gōto, wasn’t exactly a secret. While most knew him by his villain name, a quick search online provided a mountain of information—public records, photos, and even old interviews. His massive build and notorious grin had long made him a headline fixture, earning him a reputation as one of the most infamous criminals around.

His brutal fight with the Water Hose Duo left Muscular with a permanent mark. A deep scar stretched over his left eye, which had been replaced by a prosthetic that Izuku couldn’t tell for sure if it worked or just a decoration. Not that it really mattered anyway. The scar paired with the crazed grin on his face —a picture that a brave (or perhaps stupid) reporter had taken right before being brutally murdered— gave the villain an even more crazed look than before. Though if anyone asked Izuku, it made the psycho’s ugly mug a little less ugly.

With his name and photo in hand, locating him was a breeze. Chihiro’s tracking quirk was perfect for the job. In just a few seconds they had pinpointed Muscular’s hideout—and, shockingly, it was far closer to their base than expected.

Izuku sent Ronin, Chihiro, and Oboro to scout out the location. What they discovered was unnerving. Muscular had holed up in an abandoned house, but not just any decrepit property—this was the site of one of his most heinous crimes. The house once belonged to a family Muscular had brutally slaughtered, an event that had been made headlines on the news due to how brutal it was.

Izuku remembered watching the incident the day it was noticed: Muscular had taken the family hostage, killing the parents in front of their child when the police took too long to meet his demands. Even after receiving what he wanted, Muscular simply threw the child’s dead body from a window before leaping out to attack the police, killing seven officers and three heroes, and leaving many others, permanently injured. The current most famoust picture of Muscular was taken during this incident by a reporter that did not survive the encounter.

The horror of that day had left everyone terrified and the house had stood vacant ever since, abandoned in a neighborhood that had become a ghost town. Muscular’s decision to live in the very place where he had committed such atrocities spoke volumes about his twisted psyche. The audacity of this bitch was honestly shocking. 

Much less shocking was the fact that he lived alone. Any housemates would have undoubtedly met the same fate as his victims.

Still, for Izuku and his team, Muscular’s isolation made their mission simpler. There were no innocents to protect. Just a monster waiting to be taken down.

.. / .... .- - . / -- ..- ... -.-. ..- .-.. .- .-.

A swirling portal shimmered into existence on the rooftop across from Muscular's hideout. Necromancer was the first to step through, his dark green cloak flowing in the wind, his piercing green eyes scanning the area. Perched on his shoulder was Artificer, her eyes closed in deep concentration as she controlled the scouting drones she'd sent out minutes earlier. Next came Ranger, moving silently and with precision, her sharp gaze sweeping the surroundings while she nocked an arrow to her longbow, each step as quiet as a whisper.

At the back of the hideout, another portal opened. Arsonist stepped out, his hollow eye sockets locked on the house, a chilling stillness in his posture. Behind him, Fixer followed, casually slinging his grenade launcher over his shoulder, his eyes flicking from side to side, ready for whatever came next.

To the left flank, Barbarian and Fighter took their positions. Fighter had his new tonfas at the ready, while Barbarian continuously activated and deactivated his quirk, hardening his hair and hands in preparation for the fight.

Above the hideout, Warlock hovered on a dark, swirling cloud, silently surveying the area with a commanding presence. His view from the sky gave the team an additional advantage.

On the opposite flank, Rogue—as Sebastian had recently chosen to name himself—crept into position, his semi-transparent knives glinting faintly as he materialized near the house, his movements barely perceptible.

“Everyone in position?” Necromancer’s voice was low but clear as he spoke into the communicator, his sharp green eyes sweeping across the battlefield, ensuring his team was ready. 

Necromancer's question barely lingered before the team’s responses echoed through the comms, crisp and confident.

“All clear from above,” Warlock reported, his dark cloud drifting silently as he watched over the area from his aerial perch.

“Backside secure,” Arsonist chimed in, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Left flank ready,” Fighter muttered, tightening his grip on the tonfas, while Barbarian flexed his fists, his quirk hardening his hair in anticipation of the brawl to come.

“Right flank set,” came Rogue’s voice, barely more than a whisper. His glowing, translucent knives shimmered as he crouched low, his gaze locked on the hideout.

Necromancer narrowed his eyes, studying the rundown house. Muscular was inside, oblivious to the trap closing in around him. Typical—arrogance had always been what he was known for the most, behind his violence. It would also be his downfall.

“Artificer, any movement?” Necromancer asked, his voice calm, steady.

Artificer opened her eyes, her connection to the drones unwavering. “One heat signature. Muscular is alone, just like we thought. No other movement for miles. We’ve got the place to ourselves.”

Necromancer’s grin widened as he reached up to scratch behind Artificer’s ears, eliciting a faint purr from her. “Perfect,” he muttered. “Time to smoke him out. Fixer, fire a warning shot!”

A snort of laughter crackled over the comms, and Necromancer couldn’t suppress the smirk spreading across his face.

“Sir, this is an M32 Grenade Launche-” Fixer drawled, playing along with the meme.

“Ah, potato, potato. Just fire it, Fixer,” Necromancer replied with a chuckle, the smirk widening into a full grin.

Fixer didn’t need to be told twice. Moments later, the unmistakable thoomp of a grenade launcher firing echoed through the quiet air, signaling the beginning of the operation.

The grenade sailed cleanly through a closed window, the sharp crack of breaking glass piercing the stillness. An instant later, the explosion erupted within the house, a deafening boom that rattled the street and sent dust and debris spiraling into the air. The shockwave jolted the ground beneath their feet, and fragments of the decrepit structure crumbled and scattered in every direction.

For a moment, silence enveloped the scene, broken only by the settling of debris and the acrid scent of smoke. Then, from the depths of the burning house, a low, guttural growl rumbled forth—a clear sign that Muscular had taken the bait.

“Arsonist, act naturally,” Necromancer commanded, his voice calm and measured.

“Right on, Bossu,” Arsonist replied, a smirk evident in his voice. Without hesitation, he raised his skeletal fingers, blue flames flickering to life around his bony hands. With a flick of his wrist, the flames shot forward, licking hungrily at the walls of the house, quickly consuming it in a furious blaze of heat and smoke.

Within seconds, the hideout was engulfed, flames roaring as thick, black smoke billowed into the sky. The intense heat radiated outward, casting flickering shadows across the street, where the team stood poised for action.

“He's coming,” Ranger's voice cut through the chaos as she nocked an arrow, her keen eyes fixed on the inferno. 

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the fire and smoke, growing louder with each passing moment. Through the haze, Muscular emerged, stumbling slightly as he coughed and waved his hands to clear the acrid air. His body was charred, muscle fibers singed, yet he seemed barely fazed by the onslaught.

With a roar of defiance, Muscular straightened, eyes gleaming with rage, ready to retaliate against the attackers who dared to disrupt his sanctuary.

As Muscular staggered from the smoke, flames danced ominously around him, illuminating his furious expression. His eyes burned with rage as he inhaled deeply, the acrid air only stoking his wrath. 

“So, a few heroes think they can catch me,” he growled, scanning the area until his gaze landed on Fixer and Arsonist.

“Bold of you to assume we’re heroes,” Fixer shot back, a confident grin spreading across his face. Fighter, Barbarian, and Rogue quickly closed in, sensing Muscular had no intention of retreating.

“You have a lot of enemies, Muscular,” Fighter declared, stepping forward with his tonfas ready. “Someone wants you dead.”

Muscular’s grin widened, revealing a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Mercenaries, then? Even better. Please, try not to break too easily.”

Before anyone could react, Muscular enveloped himself in new muscle fibers and charged forward, moving with an alarming speed for someone of his size. In an instant, he landed a devastating punch squarely on Fighter's face. The impact sent Fighter flying several meters back, crashing into a tree in the backyard. 

The sickening crack of a skull breaking echoed through the chaos as the force caved in the side of his head.

“One down. Who’s next?” Muscular taunted, a triumphant grin plastered on his face.

Yet, to his astonishment, Fighter picked himself up as if nothing had happened, despite the fact his head was caved in. Muscular’s grin faltered, replaced by disbelief. 

“Wow, that was quite the punch.” Fighter said as he casually walked to Fixer’s side. “What do you think Barbarian? Would your hardening lose to this?”

“Nah, I’d win,” Barbarian replied, bumping his hardened fists together, undeterred by the brutal display. 

Muscular's expression shifted from surprise to irritation at the what was happening. He clenched his fists, new muscle fibers rippling across his torso. 

“Looks like I've underestimated you,” he growled, his glare boring into Fighter. “Let’s see if you can handle this!”

With a roar, Muscular charged forward, his powerful limbs propelling him like a freight train. He barreled toward Fighter and Fixer, but just before his punch could connect, Barbarian stepped in front of them, his hardened arms absorbing the blow. Muscular’s punch barely budged Barbarian back.

Before Muscular could swing again, Ranger released her arrow, targeting the exposed muscle fibers on his shoulder. The arrow struck true, but Muscular barely flinched. He glanced at the arrow embedded in his flesh and erupted in laughter.

“You think an arrow will stop me?” he mocked, his voice booming.

“Not really,” Barbarian replied, turning around and hardening his body once more as Fighter and Fixer leaped out of the way. Arsonist had already distanced himself, a sly grin on his face.

Beep beep!

Muscular's eyes widened at the sound emanating from the arrow lodged in his shoulder. He instinctively reached to grab it, trying to pull it out, but all he succeeded in doing was snapping the arrow shaft in frustration. 

“What the—?” His words were cut off as the arrow detonated, unleashing a cloud of smoke and a powerful shockwave that sent him staggering back. Muscular struggled to regain his balance, a mix of anger and confusion flashing across his face as the smoke enveloped him.

“You bastards! I’ll murder every single one of you! I’ll break every single one of your bones. I’ll make you scream in pain. I’ll torture you until you beg for death!” Muscular bellowed, fury igniting within him as he swiftly replaced his torn and singed muscle fibers with fresh ones.

He charged at Barbarian, muscles rippling with power, but just as he surged forward, a small projectile whizzed over Barbarian’s shoulder and slammed into Muscular’s chest before detonating. The blast wasn't devastating, but it sent him sprawling backward, momentarily disoriented.

Before he could regain his footing, Rogue seized the opportunity. He flung his translucent knives, aiming for Muscular’s knees where the muscle fibers were thinner and less protected. Muscular screamed in agony as one knife embedded itself deep into the vulnerable joint, sending shockwaves of pain radiating through his body.

Before he could fully process the attack, Fighter surged forward. With swift precision, he jabbed the tip of his tonfa at Muscular’s forehead, the strike perfectly timed to coincide with Barbarian’s powerful punch, which connected squarely with Muscular’s nose.

The combined force of the blows sent Muscular reeling, his head snapping back in shock. For a brief moment, his expression turned to disbelief as the pain overwhelmed his senses, leaving him momentarily stunned amidst the chaos of the attack.

“Warlock, Arsonist!” Necromancer called, urgency threading his voice.

“Roger,” Warlock responded with a determined nod.

“On it,” Arsonist added, striking a T-pose, just because he could —“It’s to assert dominance, Boss!”— and letting flames erupt freely from his palms.

Simultaneously, Warlock opened two portals above Arsonist's hands. The portals expanded, multiplying into several more that surrounded Muscular as Arsonist unleashed a torrent of fire. The flames engulfed the villain, and his screams of pain echoed through the air, merging with the chaos of battle. 

Muscular thrashed against the flames, rage and desperation mixing in his eyes. The searing heat scorched his skin, and he fought frantically to douse the fire consuming him. “You think this will stop me?!” he roared, but his voice strained under the pressure, a tremor of fear creeping into his tone.

Arsonist reveled in the chaos, directing the flames with a flourish of his hands, his laughter echoing like a bell amidst the inferno. “Just getting started!” he taunted, the fire swirling around Muscular as if it were a living entity.

From above, Warlock scanned the battlefield, searching for an opening. “Necromancer, he's getting up,” he warned, his voice steady.

“I'm going in,” Necromancer replied, reaching into his pouch and retrieving a sleek pen-like device. “Arsonist, on my mark.”

“Roger, Bossman,” Arsonist said, his laughter punctuating the air.

A swirling portal opened in front of Necromancer. Artificer jumped down from his shoulders as he stepped through just as Muscular managed to regain his feet, despite the burns marring his body.

“Now,” Necromancer muttered, clicking the pen, which rapidly transformed into his scythe.

Arsonist let his flames dissipate, and Muscular shook off the remnants of the attack, his fury reigniting. “I’m gonna kill you!” he shouted, lunging forward. But just as he took his second step, he suddenly collapsed to the ground.

Confused, Muscular looked back, only to see Necromancer standing behind him, blood dripping from his scythe. Muscular’s right leg remained in place, the stump now oozing crimson. His eyes widened in horror as he realized what had just happened—he was missing his leg from the knee down.

“What—” Muscular stammered, shock replacing his rage as he struggled to comprehend the sudden turn of events. Panic surged through him, and for the first time since the fight started, he wasn’t grinning.

Muscular's breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at the bloody stump where his leg had been, panic surging through him and shattering his earlier bravado. “You… you’ll pay for this!” he screamed, his voice cracking with a volatile mix of fury and fear.

Necromancer stood his ground, the scythe glinting menacingly in the flickering light of the flames surrounding them. “You’ve brought this upon yourself, Muscular. Your reign of terror ends here.”

Arsonist stepped forward, the turquoise lights in his empty eye sockets glinting with amusement. “Can’t believe you thought you could walk away from this, big guy. Looks like you’ll have to rethink your plans.”

Muscular's remaining leg trembled as he struggled to push himself off the ground, his pride refusing to let him accept defeat. “I’m not done yet!” he roared, drawing on every ounce of strength he had left. With a desperate, feral cry, he lunged at Necromancer.

But Necromancer was prepared. With a swift motion, he sidestepped Muscular’s charge, using the villain's momentum against him. The scythe flashed in the air and came down with precision, slicing clean through Muscular’s arm. The severed limb hit the ground a heartbeat later, blood spraying in the air.

Before Muscular could fully comprehend the horror of his situation, Necromancer struck again. With lethal precision, he severed the remaining limb. Muscular’s screams echoed through the night, a horrifying blend of rage and disbelief as he crumpled to his knees, the pain of his losses crashing down upon him like the flames licking at his body.

As Muscular fell, the once fearsome villain now vulnerable and broken, Necromancer approached with slow, deliberate steps, placing the cold edge of his scythe against the villain's neck.

“Wait, please!” Muscular began to plead, his voice turning pathetically desperate. 

“This ends now, Muscular,” Necromancer declared, his lifeless green eyes cold and unwavering as he stared down at the villain, treating him like nothing more than a bug beneath his boot. 

With each passing second, the flames crackled around them, casting flickering shadows that danced ominously across the ground. Muscular’s eyes darted around, desperately searching for an escape that wasn’t there, raw panic clawing at his throat.

“P-Please... D-don't kill me,” he pleaded, his remaining eye welling with tears, vulnerability stripping away his bravado.

“Stop pleading; it’s pathetic,” Necromancer interrupted, his voice low and steady, slicing through the tension like a knife. “At least die with some dignity.”

“Don't... Please... I don't want to die…” Muscular continued to plead, desperation lacing his words.

“Neither did your victims,” Fighter said, stepping next to the villain, his head completely healed from Muscular’s first attack.

“Please... Don—” Before he could finish, Fighter slammed his tonfa hard against the back of Muscular's head, knocking him out cold.

“Arsonist, cauterize his wounds,” Necromancer called, pulling down his hoodie and running a hand through his green curls. “Warlock, prepare for transport.”

Arsonist moved swiftly, using his quirk to cauterize Muscular's wounds. The smell of burning flesh mingled with the acrid scent of smoke in the air, a grim reminder of the violence that had just unfolded. Meanwhile, Warlock stepped through a portal, Ranger and Artificer emerging from a second one behind him.

“Didn’t the contract say to kill him?” Artificer asked, her eyes fixed on the unconscious villain.

“It did,” Necromancer replied with a nod. “But I believe we can do a little better.”

Artificer stared at him for a moment, then shrugged and settled down, licking her paws nonchalantly.

Once Arsonist was finished, Barbarian threw Muscular over his shoulder, effortlessly carrying the unconscious villain as the group left through another portal. The only evidence of the chaos that had unfolded was Muscular's blood on the floor and the burning house. No one would know what happened until days later when an unsuspecting civilian would stumble upon the area, discovering the charred remains of the fight.

By then, the blood had long dried, and the fire long extinguished. Since there was no hint of what happened there, the case was soon archived.

.- .. --.. .- .-- .- / --. .-. .. -.

Shino had heard the stories about Necromancer's skill and efficiency. His reputation had spread like wildfire, and she knew there had to be a reason behind it. Yet, when she received a call from him just five days after hiring him, announcing that the job was complete, skepticism bubbled up inside her.

Muscular had evaded capture for far too long. Was it really possible that it had been so easy to take him down? But she quickly silenced her doubts. In the world of mercenaries, trust was paramount. They didn’t lie to their clients; doing so would ruin their reputation, and a mercenary with no reputation was an unemployed mercenary.

Eager to confirm the news, she asked to see the results for herself. Within moments, a swirling purple portal materialized before her. Without hesitation, she stepped through, pushing aside questions about how they had located her. She could deal with that later.

As she emerged into the familiar room where she had first met Necromancer, she was struck by the scene before her. The young mercenary—still hard to believe he was just a kid—was sitting in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, sipping from a delicate teacup. An older man with long white hair served him, moving with an air of practiced elegance.

Shino's gaze swept across the room, and she noticed the rest of the team had gathered this time. She recognized Fixer, Fighter, and Warlock from her previous visit. Nestled on Necromancer’s lap was a purple cat with unnaturally intelligent green eyes. In one corner, a skeleton— a skeleton!? — was engaged in a lively conversation with Fixer. A woman with long black hair and striking red eyes meticulously inspected the string of her bow, while Fighter looked at her with a lovestruck expression. Across the room, an oddly familiar muscular man with red hair and matching eyes was dominating an arm wrestling match against Warlock.

It was a strange sight, watching them interact so casually. But just like heroes, Shino knew that mercenaries were also normal people when they weren’t on a mission. This group felt like more than just a mercenary band; they acted like a family.

Shino’s curiosity deepened as she stepped further into the room, her gaze flitting between each member of the team. The atmosphere was warm and relaxed, a stark contrast to the grim, business-like tone of their first meeting.

“Welcome, Mandalay!” Necromancer called, his voice light and cheerful as he set his teacup down. The cat perched on his lap stretched lazily and leaped gracefully to the floor, landing silently.

“Did you really take down Muscular?” Shino asked, her skepticism creeping back despite the cheerful scene around her. She wanted to believe it, but she needed proof.

“See for yourself,” Necromancer replied, glancing at Warlock, who had just lost another match to the red-headed man across the room.

“Right on,” Warlock said, raising an arm as mist flowed from his hands, forming a swirling portal.

Shino's eyes widened as Muscular tumbled out of the portal, his body a gruesome sight. Both arms and a leg were missing, and burns marred his skin. A muzzle covered his mouth, but his terrified eyes found Shino’s.

“He’s still breathing,” she pointed out, a frown creasing her brow.

“He is,” Necromancer confirmed, his tone matter-of-fact.

“I hired you to kill him. Why is he alive?” Shino asked, frustration seeping into her voice.

Necromancer chuckled, but the sound sent a chill through the room. Suddenly, the air felt heavier, an almost tangible pressure settling around her as he met her gaze with those unnaturally lifeless eyes. A child’s eyes shouldn’t look that lifeless.

As she glanced around, she noticed all eyes in the room were now fixed on her, sending a shiver down her spine.

“I asked you when you hired us and I’ll ask again,” Necromancer said, his tone shifting to something more serious, “Do you want justice, or revenge?”

Shino felt the weight of Necromancer’s question pressing down on her, the implications reverberating in the heavy silence that followed. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. The atmosphere had shifted from lightheartedness to something darker and more intense.

“I told you! I want justice,” she finally managed to say, her voice steadier than she felt. “Muscular’s been a plague on the city - no, the whole country - for far too long. He needs to pay for what he’s done.” Her gaze flicked to Muscular, whose wide, pleading eyes flickered with despair as they locked onto hers.

This was the murderer who had taken her sister. He deserved to pay for his actions.

“You say you want justice,” Necromancer said coldly. “Then take him. He’s a villain; you are a hero. Take him, and he’ll be locked in Tartarus for the rest of his life. That’s justice.”

“I... I hired you to—” Shino began to justify, but Necromancer cut her off.

“But if what you truly want is revenge…” He gestured to Fighter, who stepped forward and pressed something into her hands. Shino looked down, her eyes widening as she recognized the gun resting in her palm. “It’s loaded. You can take your revenge right here, right now.”

Shino’s heart raced at his words. Was she really that easy to read?

“What do I want...?” she muttered to herself, her gaze shifting back to Muscular. He stared at her with wide, pleading eyes, begging for mercy.

Did this monster ever show any compassion to his victims? She was sure they had pleaded and begged him to let them go.

Muscular was a creature who reveled in torture and death. He did it for no other reason than his own twisted pleasure. And now, faced with the end, he dared to plead for his life?

“Justice... or revenge?” Shino murmured again.

Necromancer was right. Justice would mean capturing Muscular and locking him away in Tartarus. She was a hero; that was the right thing to do.

“I’m really being a hypocrite, huh?” Shino laughed hollowly, looking up at Necromancer. “You’re right. I’m not here for justice. I shouldn’t lie to myself. This monster killed my sister, and I want him to pay.”

She turned her gaze back to Muscular, whose eyes widened in shock at her words. She could hear muffled sounds escaping from beneath the muzzle, but she didn’t bother trying to listen. She pressed the gun’s muzzle against his forehead.

“Go to hell, Muscular,” she said coldly before pulling the trigger.

A deafening bang echoed through the room, but she didn’t stop. She pulled the trigger again, and again. She kept firing until the gun began clicking empty, the magazine spent. 

Shino stared down at Muscular’s lifeless body, slumped on the floor with blood oozing from the multiple bullet wounds that marred his frame. The warm crimson splattered across her face and arms, mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder that lingered in the air. Her ears rang from the deafening gunfire, despite that, an overwhelming rush of exhilaration coursed through her veins.

Muscular was dead.

A wild laugh bubbled up from within her, erupting into the silence that followed the gunfire. She fell to her knees, covering her face with her hands, the blood smearing her skin, but she couldn’t stop laughing. 

Muscular was dead. She had killed him.

Shino didn’t hold any illusions about what she had just done. This wasn’t justice; it was pure, unfiltered revenge. She had wanted to kill him for everything he had done to her family.

Muscular was dead!

Nothing had changed. She knew that. Killing Muscular wouldn’t bring her sister back; it wouldn’t restore Kouta’s parents to him. Nothing was different, yet pulling the trigger had felt so cathartic.

Muscular was dead! He would never hurt another person. This villain would never make anyone else go through the pain that Shino had faced.

In the future, once the adrenaline wore off and the grief subsided, she might look back on this day with shame. But today, she felt nothing but relief.

Muscular was dead.

Chapter Text

Izuku crossed his arms, a grin spreading across his face as he watched Mandalay’s stunned reaction. Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly open in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious…” she murmured, shaking her head slowly as if trying to process his request.

“Dead serious,” he replied, barely hiding his amusement. She glanced down at the item he’d handed her—a limited-edition Wild Wild Pussycats poster. “Your autograph. And the rest of the Wild Wild Pussycats’ autographs,” he added, his grin widening as he watched her reaction.

“You want four autographs… in exchange for taking down Muscular?” Mandalay repeated, still trying to wrap her head around it.

Izuku chuckled, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Well, technically, you’re the one who finished him off. And besides, you said you’d pay whatever I asked.” He gave her a playful smirk. “This is my price.”

For a moment, she simply stared at him, stunned. Then, a laugh broke free as she finally accepted the absurdity of it.

“Alright,” she said, smiling as she took the poster. “A deal’s a deal. I’ll have this back signed tomorrow.”

“A pleasure doing business with you, Mandalay,” Izuku replied with a grin. “I’ll make sure the guild knows you’re trustworthy. If you ever need us again, you’ll know where to find us.”

“I hope I won’t need this kind of help again, kid,” she replied with a shake of her head as she stepped through Oboro’s portal and back into her home. Despite everything that had transpired, she looked a little lighter, the weight on her shoulders just a bit easier to bear.

As the portal closed, Dabi sauntered over, throwing an arm around Izuku’s shoulders.

“An autograph? Really? I thought you didn’t like heroes anymore,” he teased.

Izuku just shrugged, a grin still on his face. “I never said that. I do like heroes. A few of them, anyway. The Wild Wild Pussycats are good people. Things would be a lot better if there were more hero teams like them, instead of everyone fighting for the spotlight.”

Dabi snorted, a flicker of agreement in his gaze. “Guess there’s some truth in that.” His eyesockets drifted over to Muscular’s lifeless form, now hidden under a black blanket. “So, what are we gonna do with him?”

Izuku’s expression hardened, a look of disgust twisting his face. “I don’t want him. Not even as a zombie. Get rid of that thing.”

A grin spread across Dabi’s face as his hands began to glow with blue flames. “So, my namesake it is.”

“Everything is better off without this monster,” Izuku said, his tone cold and devoid of any sympathy. “It’s better if the world just forgets he ever existed.”

Dabi’s flames roared to life, enveloping Muscular’s body in a blaze. The room filled with the harsh, acrid scent of burning flesh, yet this time there was a finality to it. The blue flames cast eerie, dancing shadows across the room, briefly illuminating the faces of those who had worked together to end the villain’s reign of terror.

Once the flames died down, only ashes remained. Without a word, Oboro stepped forward, opened a portal beneath the remnants, and teleported them to the middle of the Pacific Ocean, where they scattered and disappeared into the depths.

Over the following months, Muscular’s absence sparked curiosity. Rumors circulated, some speculating on his disappearance, while others began to let go of his memory. Documentaries briefly rehashed his brutality, but as time went on, the stories faded. Within a year, Muscular was all but forgotten—his monstrous legacy finally buried.

--. --- --- -.. / .-. .. -.. -.. .- -. -.-. .

Consciousness washed over him in waves, a gradual emergence from the depths of darkness. He felt weightless, as if he were floating in a void, enveloped by a strange sensation—an almost disorienting lightness.

Amidst the haze, however, there lingered something else: a sense of longing, as if he were missing something vital.

A familiar voice pierced through the fog, brimming with excitement. “I finally did it! It worked! Master is finally back!”

He struggled to open his eyes, only to realize they weren't working—not that he was blind, but more like they were completely gone. A surge of panic washed over him as he attempted to raise a hand to his face, only to find it tangled in the tubes sticking to him.

“Oh, Master. My apologies. I'll get you out of this thing,” the voice said, its owner bustling about, and he tried to make sense of the situation.

He heard a beep, and suddenly, he was lowered back to the floor, the liquid draining away. Only then did he recognize he had been encased in a tank.

“Where am I?” he asked, desperation creeping into his voice as he struggled to remember what had happened. A blank space loomed in his mind, save for the faint echo of his quirk. He had once called it Give and Take, but its true name resonated more deeply—All for One.

“Looks like your memories have been damaged. Luckily, that was one of the many contingencies you had in place,” the figure replied. A sharp sensation jabbed into his arm as something was injected. “The last backup was from a few days before you fought that blond buffoon, but it’s enough.”

As the liquid coursed through his system, he felt the familiar tug of his quirk intertwining with his DNA, flooding him with memories. Yes, he had long ago claimed a quirk that allowed him to create backups of his memories in the form of an injectable liquid. The original owner had merely used it to share experiences, but All for One had repurposed it to ensure his survival. He had crafted this safety net in case anything ever tampered with his memories.

“Looks like something happened to me, Doctor,” he said, his voice calm as he straightened himself, accepting the towel the doctor offered him. “I’m curious about what happened to put me in such a state.”

As he dried his face, he activated his thermal detection quirk, compensating for his lost vision—for now.

“It’s a long story, Master,” the doctor replied, his tone grave but respectful. “But I’m sure we have time to fill you in.”

“I would hope so. I have a feeling I’m missing a lot,” All for One said, though he had a good idea of who would have been able to cause him such damage. “But let’s address the important bits first. I trust you have a suit ready for me? Something to eat too. I don’t feel hungry, but it’s been a while.”

He would think about that strange emptiness in his gut later. The last time he felt something like this was when he discovered that his Yoichi had escaped been stolen by that pesky Second User. 

The feeling of would have to wait though. Right now, there were more pressing matters at hand. Whatever he was missing, he would recover later. 

Because no one steals what belongs to him.

…

All for One elegantly wiped his mouth with his napkin, setting his cutlery aside. Though he couldn’t see, he could sense the doctor’s bemusement in the air, an almost palpable awkwardness hanging between them. He couldn’t see why, though.

“Was the... cheeseburger to your liking, Master?” the doctor asked, clearly attempting to sound casual.

“Indeed it was.” All for One leaned back in his chair, contemplating the doctor’s discomfort. Maybe he just didn’t like cheeseburgers. Oh well. “I’ll have another one.”

“R-right away, Master.” The doctor snapped his fingers, and a tall man in a bartender outfit walked in, swiftly grabbing the empty plates and exiting. Moments later, he returned, setting another cheeseburger in front of All for One. “You can go now, Mizugami.”

“So, this is Kurogiri’s replacement? He seems a lot less intelligent,” All for One commented, cutting a slice from his burger.

“He... is,” the doctor replied, shaking his head slightly. “Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to replicate Kurogiri perfectly just yet. Mizugami is a bit more intelligent than a regular Nomu, but he’s nowhere near Kurogiri’s level of sentience. Losing him was such a shame.”

“Right. Necromancer, wasn’t it? Tell me more about him,” All for One said, a note of curiosity creeping into his voice. “You mentioned it was his blood that brought me back.”

The doctor nodded, his expression shifting from casual to serious as he gathered his thoughts. “Necromancer is but a child, yet he wields incredible power,” he explained, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of admiration and envy. “His quirk is truly fascinating. He can reanimate a corpse using his blood. The zombies he creates are everything I hope my Nomus could someday become—sentient, loyal, and nigh immortal. It makes me wonder if he could be the solution we’ve been searching for in our pursuit of high-end Nomus.”

“I see,” All for One replied, a fond smile curling at the corners of his lips, a rare softness in his demeanor. “And when can I meet this child?”

“Master?” The doctor stammered in surprise, taken aback by the unexpected demand.

“The child, good doctor. Where is he now?” All for One pressed, his tone tinged with impatience.

“I—I don’t have him, Master,” the doctor replied, his voice faltering.

The atmosphere in the room shifted abruptly, tension coiling tightly around them like a snake preparing to strike. “You don’t?” All for One’s voice turned cold, a chilling edge to his words. “May I know why?”

“H-he’s under the guild, Master,” the doctor quickly clarified, desperation creeping into his voice as he sensed the rising anger.

“Star, huh? That might be a problem,” All for One sighed, attempting to rein in his irritation. He couldn’t help but think of the Silver Star Union, the only organization that had managed to resist his influence since the dawn of Quirk society. While All Might was undoubtedly a thorn in his side, the Union was the other half of the underground power structure that he could never fully control. 

“But not for long! I’m sure we can whisk him away from the guild,” the doctor urged, sensing an opportunity. A sudden pang of irritation flickered in All for One’s chest at the doctor’s enthusiasm.

“Such a quirk is perfect for you, Master. Once we have the kid, I’m certain we can finally perfect the Nomus. Maybe I can even turn him into our first perfect—AGH!”

The doctor’s words were abruptly cut off as All for One’s hand closed around his neck, lifting him effortlessly from the ground. The coldness in All for One’s expression was unmistakable, even with his lack of eyes. “You won’t be touching the child, doctor. He’s mine,” he stated icily. “No. One. Touches. What is mine! Do you hear me?” 

The doctor’s face flushed with panic, his attempts to speak reduced to garbled gasps as he struggled against the iron grip.

“M-Master…” the doctor gasped, his voice strained as All for One’s grip tightened around his neck. 

“Listen closely,” All for One hissed, a disturbing grin stretching across his face. “That child. I can see now what I’ve been missing since I woke up. I need this boy. He’s mine. My boy!” His laughter burst forth, wild and unrestrained, reverberating off the sterile walls of the room. “I’ll ensure I reclaim him from those thieves, and they will regret the day they dared touch what is mine.”

He leaned closer, the heat of his breath fanning across the doctor’s skin, sending a thrill of fear through the air. “That’s why you better remember this, doctor. I—”

Suddenly, All for One froze, as he noticed that the doctor wasn’t breathing anymore. He activated one of his hearing quirks, but couldn’t hear a heartbeat anymore.

“Oh, looks like I went too far,” All for One remarked, a flicker of surprise coloring his voice as he released the doctor. The man crumpled to the floor like a discarded rag doll, his body limp and unresponsive. “What a shame. I could have used him a little longer.”

With a weary sigh, All for One straightened himself, brushing off the incident as if it were nothing more than a minor annoyance. “Guess I lost my temper once more. My apologies, good doctor,” he muttered, though there was no one left to hear his hollow words.

He brushed the fabric of his suit as if to erase the stains of the encounter and sank back down into his chair, snapping his fingers with casual indifference. Mizugami entered again, bowing low in acknowledgment of his master’s command.

“Clean up this mess, please. And bring me another cheeseburger; something happened to mine,” All for One instructed, gesturing toward the shattered plate on the floor, remnants of his meal mingling with the doctor’s discarded presence.

The Nomu nodded obediently, quickly moving to collect the doctor’s lifeless body, his movements almost robotic in their precision.

“What a mess,” All for One lamented, his tone eerily calm, as if he were discussing a broken trinket rather than the life he had just extinguished. “Well, I’m sure the doctor left his research somewhere. I can still create Nomus without him. Besides, once I get my boy back, they’ll all be obsolete anyway.”

He would need to plan carefully, but All for One was a patient man. He would make sure to get his boy back. Tomura would be useful for that, and if he failed, All for One didn’t need him anymore.

.-- .... --- --- .--. ...

Izuku felt a shiver run down his spine and turned to his window, only to find it securely closed. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of wind outside. Shaking his head, he tried to dismiss the unease creeping in; it was probably just his imagination.

Pushing the lingering discomfort aside, he got up, deciding that a sweet snack might calm his nerves. He wasn’t sure why he felt so on edge—it’s not like anything had happened recently.

As he made his way to the kitchen, he opened the fridge, scanning its contents for something sugary. Just as he was reaching for a slice of cake, a voice broke the stillness of the room.

“Good evening, Young Master.” Startled, Izuku dropped the plate, a loud crack resounding as it shattered on the floor. 

His heart raced as he turned to see Sebastian standing there calm as ever.

“God, Sebastian. You scared me!” Izuku exclaimed, trying to steady his racing heartbeat. “Now I’ve made a mess.”

“Seems so,” Sebastian said, walking over and effortlessly lifting Izuku into his arms, placing him gently on the counter as he grabbed a broom and dustpan. “You seem a little on edge today. I thought the last job had gone well.”

“It did. I don’t know why I’m so jumpy tonight,” Izuku sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry for the mess.”

“Cleaning messes is my job, Young Master,” Sebastian replied with a warm smile that eased Izuku’s tension. “Why don’t I prepare something for you?”

“That would be great. Thanks, Sebastian,” Izuku said, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

Within minutes, Sebastian had cleaned up the broken glass and prepared a calming cup of tea paired with a slice of chocolate cake. Izuku settled into the living room as his butler bowed and stepped away to continue his duties. 

If only Izuku could find a way to convince him to stop calling him Young Master...

Chapter Text

Izuku took a slow sip from his teacup, his green eyes scanning the chessboard intently. He paused for a moment, trying to plot a way out of his inevitable defeat. After several seconds of contemplation, he sighed deeply, setting his cup down with a soft clink. He glanced over the board one final time, his shoulders slumping in defeat. With a resigned sigh, he reached out and gently knocked over his king, conceding the match.

Across the table, Guildmaster Star let out a low, satisfied chuckle, the corners of his lips curling into an amused smirk. He adjusted the monocle perched on his nose, his star-shaped pupils flashing for a brief second as he studied the board with exaggerated thoughtfulness.

“Well,” he mused, steepling his fingers as he leaned back in his chair, a gleam of triumph dancing in his eyes, “That brings the score to 87 to 2, if I’m not mistaken.”

Izuku groaned, sinking further into his seat. “You don’t have to sound so smug about it,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy green hair in frustration.

Star’s smirk widened as he relaxed in his chair, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “An old man must find his joys where he can,” he said with a casual shrug, clearly enjoying every second of Izuku's defeat.

Izuku rolled his eyes but couldn't help but let out a small sigh. “You’re not that old—” he started, then paused mid-sentence, rethinking his words. “Okay, fine, you are that old. But still, you don’t have to rub it in every single time.”

Star’s laugh was warm and rich, echoing through the room as he reached for his own teacup. “Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Izuku shot him a half-hearted glare. “I still think this is cheating. You can literally see which piece is most valuable to move. It’s not fair.”

Star raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Yet, you keep challenging me,” he countered smoothly, unfazed by Izuku's frustration. “And even more impressively—you’ve managed to win twice. That alone is something to be proud of.”

Izuku groaned again, rubbing his face in exasperation. “Ugh, that’s enough chess for today. Can we please get to the real reason you called me here?”

Star leisurely took another sip of his tea, his expression suddenly shifting to one of mock curiosity. “What makes you think I had a reason?”

Izuku fixed him with a deadpan stare, his tone flat. “Star, we both know our tea parties are on Fridays, and you’re not one to break routine. Can we drop the games?”

The Guildmaster chuckled once more, the sound rich and warm. “As you wish.” But then his face grew serious, the playful light in his eyes fading as he set his cup down gently. “But before we go over it, I want to ask you something, Necromancer.” His voice shifted, a subtle weight settling into his words. “We’ve talked about this before, but will you really not reconsider the hero path?”

Izuku leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression caught between frustration and contemplation. He let the silence stretch for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly against his sleeve before he finally exhaled a slow, measured sigh.

“I'm not,” he said firmly, his voice carrying a quiet finality. “The hero path isn’t for me, Star. I know you see potential in me. I know Nedzu and Eraserhead do too. But that’s not a life I can live.” He met Star’s gaze, his green eyes steady, but softened by something almost apologetic. “I can’t walk that path, and I won’t pretend I ever could. I’m sorry if that disappoints you, but I’ll stay a mercenary. It’s who I am now.”

Star’s sharp, knowing eyes studied him for a long moment, their usual glint of amusement momentarily replaced with something far more thoughtful. Then, he gave a slow, understanding nod.

“I expected this answer,” he admitted, his voice lacking disappointment, only quiet acceptance. “But I still had to ask.”

Izuku huffed, shaking his head. “It was Nedzu, wasn’t it?”

Star chuckled lightly. “Of course. He doesn't give up on people easily.”

“I'm glad he hasn't, but tell him my answer is still no.”

Star leaned back in his seat, sighing through his nose. “Don't worry. I don't think he'll keep pressing. This was his last attempt.” Then, with a slight smirk, he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope, placing it on the table between them. “Instead, he’s offering you this.”

Izuku eyed the envelope warily before taking it, unfolding the letter within and scanning its contents. As he read, his eyes widened slightly, a flicker of disbelief creeping into his expression.

“Wait… is this serious?”

Star’s grin widened, his amusement returning. “Do I ever joke about things like this?”

Izuku let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as a smirk of his own tugged at his lips. “You and Nedzu are a pair of sly foxes, you know that?” He placed the letter down, running a hand through his hair before nodding to himself. “Tell him I'll need some time to discuss the offer with the team.”

“As you wish, Necromancer.” Star inclined his head. “I'll let him know.”

Izuku rose from his seat, stretching slightly before giving the older man a pointed look. “And enough with the titles. My name is Izuku. I trust you enough to let you know, even though I’m sure you’ve known it for years.”

Star’s smirk didn’t fade. “Maybe,” he said cryptically, neither confirming nor denying. “But I’m glad you trust me that much.”

Izuku rolled his eyes but let out a chuckle before turning toward the door. “Take care, Jiji.”

Star chuckled softly in response, watching as the young necromancer disappeared through the doorway. “You too, kid.”

Once the door clicked shut behind Izuku, Star let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of a chess piece. His sharp eyes flickered over the board, taking in the final moves with a mix of amusement and something darker, a subtle admiration for the boy’s tenacity.

With deliberate slowness, Star moved his hand to the board, adjusting a few pieces—shifting a knight this way, repositioning a rook there. In mere moments, his king was surrounded, trapped in a position he couldn’t escape.

A smirk curled at the corners of his lips as he leaned back, folding his hands beneath his chin. He stared at the board for a moment, the pride in his gaze unspoken but clear.

“You were closer to beating me than you thought, Izuku,” he murmured softly to the empty room. The words held a quiet reverence, almost as if acknowledging a potential he hadn’t fully realized.

Reaching for his phone, Star dialed a number, his fingers brushing the screen with practiced ease. The phone rang once before the other end picked up.

“His answer hasn't changed,” Star said without preamble, his voice clipped and smooth, conveying everything he needed without the usual pleasantries.

“I see,” came the familiar voice of Nedzu, cool and measured, though there was a certain understanding beneath the words. “A pity, though not unexpected.”

Star chuckled, spinning a captured pawn between his fingers, clearly enjoying the moment. “You’d think after all these years, you'd know when to fold. But no, you really wanted to steal the guild's best mercenary.”

Nedzu’s voice took on a playful edge. “Now, now, where would the fun be in that? Though I guess it’s your win this time.”

Star’s chuckle deepened as he began to reset the pieces on the chessboard, returning everything to its original positions as though the game had never happened. “He chose his own path,” Star said, his tone quiet but resolute. “The Union will be his ally for as long as he stays with us. The Underground takes care of its own.”

“You managed to gain the loyalty of the wildest card the Underground has seen since All for One,” Nedzu noted with a hint of amusement. “I’ve never seen you get close to anyone, Star. What do you see when you look at him?”

Star’s fingers lingered over a rook, hesitating for only a moment before he responded with surprising simplicity. “He shines like the sun. One day, he’ll be at the very top.”

Nedzu laughed softly, his voice tinged with humor. “And people call me manipulative.” Then, his tone turned teasing. “At least wait until he’s an adult, Star.”

Star’s lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes glinting with quiet confidence. “I still have many years to live, Nedzu. And I’m nothing if not patient. Until then, I’ll continue to prepare him. You’re free to continue trying to poach him to your side.”

“No, I know when I’m outmatched,” Nedzu replied, conceding the point with a light chuckle. “It’s your victory, Star. Besides, I can't deny it. Guildmaster Izuku has a nice ring to it.”

Star’s smile widened. “Yes, I think it does. He’ll surpass all of us one day.”

-.-- --- ..- / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / .-- .- ... - .. -. --. / -.-- --- ..- .-. / - .. -- . / -.. . -.-. --- -.. .. -. --. / - .... .. ... ..--.. / .-- .... -.-- ..--.. / .-- . .-.. .-.. --..-- / ... .. -. -.-. . / .-- . / .- .-. . / .... . .-. . --..-- / .... --- .-- / .- -... --- ..- - / -.-- --- ..- / -.-. --- -- -- . -. - / -.-- --- ..- .-. / ..-. .- ...- --- .-. .. - . / ... --- -. --. ..--..

One of the many rooms in the manor had been converted into a meeting space for the party. The large, polished wooden table sat at the center of the room, each member occupying their own chair, the atmosphere thick with tension.

“Well…” Ronin muttered, finishing the last line of the paper before passing it along. “I can see why you called this meeting. This is a big choice.”

“A big choice?” Izuku chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “This is checkmate. No matter what we do, the rat gets what he wants.” He looked down at the paper, which appeared innocently enough. A big contract with an even bigger reward. “What do you think, Pops?”

Shouta took his turn reading, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he processed the words. “Sounds like Nedzu, all right. Manipulative rat.”

“I mean, it's not like we haven't done undercover work before,” Frank interjected, his tone casual, trying to keep the mood light. “Aren't you being a little dramatic here, boss?”

Izuku sighed heavily, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. “I've told him a thousand times, I can't be a hero.” His voice was laced with frustration, but his resolve was unwavering.

“Can't or won't?” Shouta asked, an eyebrow raised. Before Izuku could shoot him a sharp look, Shouta threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I get it. But still, I think it's a solid idea—even if you don’t think you can be an actual hero.”

Chihiro, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally spoke up, her voice calm and measured. “Perhaps we should review the details before jumping to conclusions?” she suggested. She wasn't one to rush into decisions without the full picture.

Izuku sighed again, slumping slightly as he nodded. Katashi slid the paper back toward him, and with a resigned expression, he reviewed the contents again.

“To put it simply,” Izuku began, his eyes scanning the room, meeting each pair of eyes in turn, “Nedzu wants to hire us as undercover security for UA. He’s also bringing in All Might as the new heroics teacher for the first years.”

“This sounds like a trap,” Dabi remarked, his voice low, skepticism dripping from every word.

“Oh, it totally is,” Izuku agreed with a bitter laugh, his fingers tapping the paper in emphasis. “Which is exactly how he cornered us.” He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “For starters, All Might’s been noticeably inactive lately. The villains are picking up on it. So, the bait is working. We can assume no one knows that All Might’s actually a zombie. The doctor wouldn't have told All for One about that kind of failure—if All for One’s even back yet. But if he is—”

“The point is,” Ronin interjected smoothly, cutting off Izuku's spiraling thoughts before they could gain momentum. “All Might as a heroics teacher makes UA a prime target. Any villain looking to make a name for themselves will come for him, or even old enemies with a grudge.”

“Right,” Katashi added thoughtfully. “And Nedzu knows we won’t just ignore that. Not with Shouto and Hitoshi going to UA this year. It’s perfect timing.”

“So, it’s checkmate for us,” Oboro chimed in with a chuckle. “Damn, I don’t remember Nedzu being this devious back in our UA days, Shou.”

“He was a teacher then,” Shouta replied with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. “Now he's the principal.”

“And what about this 'undercover' part?” Dabi asked, his tone tinged with impatience.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Izuku replied with a resigned shrug, his eyes scanning the room. “He wants us to go undercover as students,” he gestured to himself, “or staff,” he added, nodding toward the adults gathered around the table.

“In other words,” Chihiro interjected, her voice sharp and clear as she locked eyes with Izuku, “if we accept this, he gets you into the hero course, just like he’s been trying to convince you to do for years.” Her gaze was pointed, but there was an unspoken understanding in her tone.

Izuku leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh, his arms crossing in frustration. “Honestly, I’m gonna turn that rat into a fur coat the next time I see him.” His words were accompanied by an amused smile, a contradiction that hinted at his irritation. As much as he disliked Nedzu’s manipulation, he couldn’t fully mask the grudging respect he had for his persistence. “Anyway, I won’t be the only student.” He glanced around at the others seated at the table. “He wants Dabi in General Education and Mittens in the Support course.”

“What the—ME?” Dabi exclaimed, his voice rising with disbelief. “He wants a literal skeleton as a student? A skeleton who hasn’t been to school in years!?”

Mittens, on the other hand, had a much more positive reaction, her tail flicking excitedly. “Oh, this sounds fun!” she chimed in, her grin wide and eager, her ears perking up in excitement at the thought.

Izuku chuckled lightly, amused by Dabi's reaction but more focused on the bigger picture. “As for the rest of you,” he continued, scanning the table, “Frank will be Recovery Girl’s new assistant, Katashi will take on the role of the new PE instructor, Dad and Chihiro will be weapons instructors for the first and second years, respectively. Sebastian will take up the position of the new janitor, and Oboro will be on ‘portal duty.’”

Ronin leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping thoughtfully on the armrest as he processed the information. “Sounds like a lot of different roles to juggle,” he said with a hint of amusement, “but it’s not like we haven’t handled worse. What’s the endgame, though? What’s Nedzu really trying to pull with all this?”

Izuku met Ronin’s gaze, a slight shrug of indifference in his posture. “Well, I’d say he’s hoping that by getting me into the hero course, he might convince me to actually become a hero.” He let out a dry chuckle. “Fat chance, but gotta commend his persistence.” His eyes scanned the room as a grin began to creep across his face. “Other than that... we’re damn good at our jobs.”

“Heck yes we are!” Mittens agreed enthusiastically, a pleased purr vibrating in her throat.

Izuku rose from his seat, feeling the weight of the decision settle heavily on his shoulders. His tone shifted to all business as he turned to face the group. “Alright,” he said, his voice firm and steady, “Time to take the vote. Those in favor of taking the job, raise your hand—or paw—and say Aye.”

One by one, hands and paws rose into the air, signaling unanimous agreement.

“Aye,” Mittens called out cheerfully, her tail swishing with approval.

“Aye,” Chihiro added, her calm and composed voice betraying no hesitation.

“Aye,” Katashi said with a thoughtful nod, already mentally mapping out the logistics of the operation.

“Aye,” Frank muttered, scratching the back of his head. “I guess it’ll be interesting to see how much chaos we can cause this time.”

Ronin smirked faintly before raising his hand. “Aye.”

Oboro flashed a carefree grin, raising his hand with an exaggerated flourish. “Aye, of course. What could go wrong?”

Dabi, still looking incredulous, scowled and crossed his arms. He let out a long, exasperated sigh before finally relenting. “Aye.”

Izuku paused for a moment, scanning the room. His gaze softened as he looked around, his lips curling into a small, satisfied smile as he took in the unanimous response. He let the silence settle before nodding slowly, a sense of finality in his demeanor. “Alright then. It’s settled.” He glanced down at the paper in his hands, his mind already working through the next steps. “Looks like we’re in.”

A brief pause filled the room, before Chihiro’s voice broke the silence. “By the way, where’s Sebastian? He isn’t one to miss these meetings.”

Izuku shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, he’s supervising the new hires’ training. He said he’d go along with our decision.” His tone was casual, though a faint glint of amusement twinkled in his green eyes. “Probably enjoying the break from all the chaos, though.”

Dabi’s glowing eye sockets flickered with interest, a wry grin tugging at his lips. “Those three clowns? How’s it going?”

Izuku chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “They’re not that bad. I mean, the new maid is clumsy as hell. The gardener still can’t figure out how to control his strength. And the cook still smokes in the kitchen... but they’re learning!” He shot a playful grin around the table. “They’ll get there. Anyway!” He cut in before anyone could respond. “We’ve got about 10 months to prepare for the entrance exam, so we need to get moving. If we’re going to avoid suspicion, we’ll need to pass it fair and square.”

He paused, meeting Dabi’s gaze. “Dabi, Chihiro will work with you on tutoring for the exam.”

Izuku then turned to Mittens with a grin. “Mittens, you’re on portfolio duty for the Support exam. Make sure it’s top-tier. We’re not just going through the motions here.”

Dabi groaned, slouching further in his chair. “This is gonna suck,” he muttered, but the hint of challenge in his voice suggested he’d rise to the occasion.

Mittens, on the other hand, nodded enthusiastically, her tail swishing with excitement. “Got it! Time to make some cool gadgets!”

Izuku gave them a reassuring smile before his expression turned serious again. “The rest of you, we need to keep the operation smooth. Work on your roles and make sure we stay under the radar. We’re playing this smart.” He glanced at everyone around the table. “We’ve got 10 months to prepare, and I expect us to use every second of it.”

He gave a final, appraising glance around the room, scanning for any sign of doubt or hesitation. “Does anyone have anything to add?”

A few moments of silence stretched across the room, everyone seemingly in agreement. When no one spoke up, Izuku nodded decisively. “Then we can end this meeting here.” His gaze turned toward Shouta, who had been quietly observing the discussion. “Pops, can you pass the message to Nedzu?”

Shouta gave a short nod, his expression unreadable. “I’ll take care of it.”

Izuku straightened up, feeling the weight of the plan settling in. “Good. Let’s get to work, everyone.”

Chapter Text

Escaping the house was never an easy task. Not with Endeavor basically micromanaging every single second of Shouto’s day. But every so often, Endeavor would be called away on a mission that took him out of the city for a few days. Those were the days Shouto would find himself with freedom.

Without the looming pressure of training to exhaustion, he could actually enjoy himself—usually with a certain pale, green-haired boy he had unexpectedly befriended during a vacation years ago.

Today was one of those rare, golden days. Endeavor was three cities away, hunting down a villain or something, which meant Shouto had a temporary reprieve from all the training. Technically, he was still expected to train just as intensely, but it was not like Fuyumi would tell on him. She was more than happy to cover for him.

Pulling out his Mittenphone—he still chuckled whenever he thought about that name, but the device had never failed him since the day it was gifted—Shouto sent a quick message. He didn’t even have time to set the phone down before a swirling portal appeared in his room.

After one last check to make sure he had everything he needed, Shouto stepped through.

Teleportation still left him slightly disoriented, but he was getting used to it. Before he could even blink, a blur of green and black slammed into him, strong arms wrapping around his shoulders in a bone-crushing hug.

“Shouto!” Izuku’s voice was bright, excited—like they hadn’t seen each other in years.

Stumbling back a step, Shouto quickly steadied himself, his hand instinctively patting Izuku’s back in his usual, slightly awkward way. 

“Hey, Izuku,” he greeted, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Miss me that much?”

Izuku pulled back just enough to flash him a wide, mischievous grin. “Of course! It’s been forever!”

Shouto huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s been seven days.”

“Exactly!” Izuku shot back, as if that only strengthened his argument.

After a moment’s hesitation, he finally released Shouto, stepping back as the portal mist coiled into the cube resting on the floor. Picking it up, he set it back on his bedside table.

Shouto took the opportunity to glance around. He had been in Izuku’s room plenty of times, but somehow, it always looked different. That boy really loved redecorating.

Izuku's room decoration always felt completely random to Shouto. One day, it looked like the shrine of a diehard hero fanboy, and other times, it was transformed into an indoor garden. Today, however, it felt like stepping into an RPG nerd's paradise. Shouto half expected to see a bard playing a lute in the corner.

The room was set up like something out of a medieval inn. The walls, made of stone, gave the space an undeniably rustic charm. At the center of the room was a large wooden bed, neatly made with a blanket and pillows that looked like they'd been carefully arranged. Adjacent to the bed was a simple wooden bedside table, its surface adorned with a lamp casting a warm, amber glow. Nearby, a desk held an old-looking map, another lamp illuminating the intricate details of the worn paper.

To the left was a wooden door, while on the right stood a tall, arched window that let in the soft light of the day. The wooden floor was partially covered by a patterned rug in the center, adding a touch of color to the otherwise earthy tones. Above, wooden beams supported the ceiling, enhancing the room's rustic aesthetic. On the stone wall over the bed hung a framed painting of some aristocrat Shouto had never heard of.

Shouto had long since stopped questioning how Izuku could completely change the look of his room at the drop of a hat. If he had to guess, it was probably Mittens’ influence anyway, and for the sake of his own sanity, Shouto chose not to ask any further questions about what the cat might be capable of.

“So, who's that?” Shouto asked, pointing to the painting above the bed.

“No idea!” Izuku replied, flashing a grin.

Shouto let out a soft laugh. “Of course. What did I expect?”

“Dabi bought it as a joke a few weeks ago, and Sebastian refused to hang it in the living room. So, I decided to put it here.” Izuku explained, his grin widening. “I'm calling him King Rex Maximus the Third.”

Shouto didn’t quite understand the meaning behind the name, but given the way Izuku had said it with such enthusiasm, he figured it was probably something ridiculous. He wisely chose not to ask further.

“So, what did I miss?” Shouto asked, sitting down on Izuku’s bed. The mattress creaked under him, a soft protest at the added weight.

Izuku let out a small sigh before jumping onto the bed beside Shouto with enough force to make the mattress bounce slightly. Shouto barely managed to keep his balance as the bed shifted beneath them.

“Well,” Izuku started, his usual energy noticeably absent, “UA’s entrance exam is in two days.”

Shouto nodded, already knowing the details. He’d taken the recommendation exam a few weeks ago and gotten his results — meaning he was already in. As much as Izuku had insisted he had no interest in attending UA, whether in the Hero Course or anything else, Shouto had thought that had been the end of it.

“Wait…” Shouto’s brow furrowed as he looked at Izuku. “I thought you said you would never go to UA.”

Izuku froze for a moment, his face shifting into a sheepish expression as he turned back to look at Shouto. “Did I forget to tell you?” he asked, a touch of embarrassment creeping into his voice.

“Forgot to tell me what?” Shouto asked, genuinely curious now.

“Oh, god. I can’t believe I forgot,” Izuku muttered, grabbing a pillow and burying his face in it. “I was supposed to tell you!”

Shouto wasn’t entirely sure what Izuku meant by that, but seeing him so flustered, he awkwardly patted Izuku’s back. Izuku let out another sigh and pulled his head back from the pillow, glancing up at Shouto with an apologetic expression.

“Sorry, Shouto,” Izuku said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I just really forgot.” He hesitated, looking like he was trying to collect his thoughts. “Well, I’ve ranted to you before about how Nedzu and Pops really think I can be a hero for some reason. Honestly, it’s like they didn’t hear all the times I told them why I can’t be a hero. I’m a mercenary for god’s sake! I’m not supposed to—”

“Izu,” Shouto interrupted, raising an eyebrow as he cut through the rambling before it could spiral again. “You’re muttering again.”

Izuku blinked, taken off guard for a moment, and then let out a small, sheepish laugh, looking embarrassed. “Right. Sorry about that.” He sat up a little straighter, brushing off his shirt as though trying to compose himself. “Anyway, Nedzu decided to play dirty. He went to the guild, and long story short, me and the crew have been hired to go undercover at UA.”

Shouto raised an eyebrow, considering the situation. “So, Nedzu hired the Necromancer Party?” He couldn’t help a small smirk. “That’s... quite smart, actually. I can’t think of a group more suited for extra security.”

Izuku’s eyes widened in mock betrayal, and he shot Shouto an exaggerated glare. “Noooooo! You weren’t supposed to agree with him!” he pouted, then dramatically buried his face back in the pillow.

Shouto couldn’t help but laugh, the sound soft but genuine. It was rare for Izuku to be so flustered, and honestly, it was kind of endearing. He couldn't recall the last time he had seen Izuku so worked up over something.

“Ugh, I know we’re a good choice for this,” Izuku groaned, flopping onto his back. “It makes sense for him to hire us, and that’s what makes it so frustrating!” He let out a dramatic sigh. “If it was just Nedzu trying to get me into the hero course, I would’ve just denied the job. But now, we might actually be needed to keep everyone safe. I have no idea when All for—” He cut himself off abruptly, clamping his mouth shut.

“All for what?” Shouto asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Sorry, Shouto,” Izuku quickly apologized, glancing at him with a mix of guilt and hesitation. “I said too much. I don’t like keeping things from you, but... I really can’t tell you. UA might really need the extra security, and that’s why we accepted the job. That’s all I can tell you.”

Shouto blinked, his mind racing for an answer. He could tell Izuku wasn’t trying to hide anything malicious, but the way he was acting made Shouto feel... uneasy. His expression softened, and he exhaled slowly.

“Fine,” Shouto finally replied, trying to suppress the blush creeping up his neck. It wasn’t fair for this boy to be so cute. He turned his head away, focusing on the wall to avoid showing his flustered expression. “Just… be careful, alright?”

Izuku, clearly relieved, sat up a little straighter, offering Shouto a small, grateful smile. “I will. You know this is far from my first rodeo.”

Shouto glanced back at him, a slight frown tugging at his face. Of course, he knew Izuku was used to dangerous jobs. He knew exactly what he was getting into. But that didn’t stop the worry from bubbling up inside of him.

“I know. But still, you're my first friend. I can’t help but worry, you know?” Shouto pressed, his tone soft yet sincere. “Just be careful, okay? Please?”

Izuku didn’t hesitate. He leaned in and pulled Shouto into a tight hug, one that caught Shouto off guard. "I’ll be careful. I promise, Shouto," Izuku said, his voice muffled by Shouto's shoulder.

Shouto barely managed to keep his left side from bursting into flames, but he controlled himself, the warmth of the hug spreading through him in a way he wasn’t entirely prepared for.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” Shouto said quietly, his hand coming to rest on Izuku's back as he gently patted it. “You better be safe out there.”

Izuku pulled back with a grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gave Shouto a mock salute. “Aye, sir!” he declared with exaggerated flair.

Shouto’s lips twitched, and for a brief moment, the weight on his shoulders lightened. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though the smile on his face made it clear he didn’t mind at all.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

The day of the entrance exam had arrived, and Mittens was already unimpressed.

This was supposed to be the number one hero school in Japan, with an acceptance rate under 1%. Yet here she was, sitting through the written exam with an air of complete boredom. She was allowed to bring her back-arms to actually hold a pen and write—thankfully, she didn’t have to waste any time on silly, pointless human limitations—and she finished in less than 30 minutes. It was too easy . Were humans really so dimwitted that they would struggle with these trivial questions? Honestly, this was just more evidence that cats were the superior species.

Mittens sat perched on her desk, tail flicking lazily as she licked her paws, completely uninterested in the rest of the room. Time passed in slow motion, but that was fine. The humans around her were doing their best to not stare at her, but she could feel their eyes on her. They probably couldn’t help it—after all, who could resist basking in the glory of her superiority? She certainly didn’t mind letting them admire her for a while longer.

She was obviously far too advanced for this place. She barely even had to try. Honestly, the things she did for Izuku.

Mittens’ gaze shifted to the front of the room, where Izuku sat a few seats ahead of her. He was much more relaxed than the others, methodically answering the questions. Not as quickly as her, of course—Izuku wasn’t as smart as her. But to be fair, he was one of the smartest humans she had ever met. So he was doing just fine.

Still, anyone struggling with this test was nothing short of an idiot.

(All around the room, several students suddenly felt like someone shot an arrow through their chests.)

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

“What the hell? How is anyone even supposed to answer that?” Dabi muttered, his eyes narrowing at the ridiculous question in front of him. The more he stared at it, the more frustrated he became. His pen hovered uselessly above the paper, completely pointless. Another question he couldn’t answer, and at this point, he didn’t even care. This test was a joke, and definitely not the funny kind. He couldn’t even make sense of half the questions. Who cared about the time it took for two trains to cross each other? How was that even remotely relevant to anyone’s life?

He could feel the heat rising in his chest, his quirk itching to activate, to just burn the test to ash. But he resisted, barely. Turning the page, he prepared to skip yet another useless question. The next one wasn’t much better. He groaned, rubbing his forehead as exhaustion took hold. Why the hell had he agreed to this? The whole thing felt like a nightmare.

A frustrated thud from the desk beside him pulled him out of his thoughts. He glanced over and saw a blonde-haired boy who just hit his desk in frustration.

Well, at least he wasn’t the only one suffering. They locked eyes for a brief moment, and there was a silent understanding between them—this test was a joke.

“Is this even real?” the blonde boy muttered, disbelief coloring his voice.

In any other situation, Dabi would find it amusing that this guy was feeling so frustrated with his test that he barely reacted to the fact that there was a literal skeleton sitting next to him.

“Yeah, man. Real as it gets.” Dabi groaned in frustration.

Both of them turned back to their papers at the sound of a throat being cleared. Dabi sighed deeply, forcing his focus back onto the test. He had to somehow get through this. He had to pass. Even if he hated every second of it.

Well, at least he could understand now why UA was such a hard school to get in.

.--. --- ...- / . -..- -.-. .... .- -. --. .

Izuku stretched his arms above his head as he stepped out of the exam room, letting out a soft yawn. Maybe having the, arguably, world’s smartest creature tutor him was technically cheating, but honestly? That test had been way too easy.

He half expected Nedzu to mess with his exam just to make things more challenging—wouldn’t have been the first time. But after the last stunt the Chimera Principal pulled, it seemed like he’d finally decided not to push his luck. Small victories.

Oh well. He wasn’t complaining. The sooner he got through this job, the better. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take more than a few months.

…

Izuku barely registered Present Mic’s explanation of the practical exam. He’d already heard the gist—run around the mock city and destroy as many robots as possible. Simple.

Leaning back slightly in his chair, he twirled his pen between his fingers, his mind already drifting. This whole thing felt like a formality. If he wanted to, he could clear this exam without even trying. Instead, he was stuck here, listening to a breakdown he didn’t need.

Still, something did catch his attention. He could feel a gaze boring into the back of his head. Subtle at first, but persistent.

Without turning his head, he caught a glimpse of the culprit in his peripheral vision—a spiky-haired blond sitting a few seats away, eyes locked on him. That wasn’t unusual. Izuku was used to people staring at him. Between his pale complexion and dead-looking eyes, he tended to make people uneasy. But this was different. This guy wasn’t looking at him with fear or curiosity. There was something familiar about it—about him —like Izuku should remember him, but the answer danced just out of reach.

Before he could dwell on it, a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

“And you, with the unkempt hair!” Izuku blinked and turned to find a blue haired boy with glasses and a rigid posture glaring at him like he’d personally offended him. “You’ve barely looked at Present Mic this entire time. If you’re not going to take this seriously, you should leave!”

Izuku raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to laugh as the boy faltered slightly upon making direct eye contact. He flinched—like most people did when faced with Izuku’s unsettling stare.

“Why are you looking at me instead of Present Mic?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Are you sure I’m the one not paying attention?”

The boy gaped at Izuku, clearly flustered and struggling to come up with a response. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Before he could stammer out anything, Izuku gave him a casual, dismissive wave of his hand.

“Just sit down before you embarrass yourself even more,” Izuku said coolly, not sparing him another glance as he turned back to face the front of the room.

There was a moment of tense silence before Present Mic’s voice broke in, trying to smooth things over. “Alright, Listeners, no need to get heated! This guy,” he said, gesturing to the shadowed robot on the screen, “is worth zero points. It's just an obstacle that should be avoided. Think of it like a Spike Top from Mario.”

The boy opened his mouth again, perhaps to offer some sort of comeback, but then seemed to reconsider. With a sigh, he reluctantly sank back into his seat.

Izuku barely registered the rest of Present Mic’s explanation, his mind already tuned out and focused on the upcoming exam. He knew what he had to do. The specifics didn't matter.

Moments later, he found himself standing in front of the massive gates, the anticipation palpable in the air. Students around him fidgeted nervously, whispering to each other as they tried to settle their jitters.

Izuku stepped away from the crowd, seeking a bit of space for himself. He pulled out his pen, spinning it idly between his fingers, the familiar rhythm helping him focus as he scanned the scene. Most of the other students were visibly tense, some engaging in anxious chatter, but none seemed as prepared as he was.

His eyes caught the blue-haired boy from earlier, glaring at him with a mix of distaste and uncertainty. Izuku made a conscious effort to ignore him. If the boy had a problem, it was his own to deal with.

Then, his gaze fell on a nervous-looking girl with brown hair and blushy cheeks standing nearby. She seemed vaguely familiar, but Izuku couldn’t quite place her. It didn’t matter, though. There were bigger things to focus on.

Izuku’s attention shifted when he noticed the gates beginning to open. It was done so subtly, almost silently—unusual for gates of this size. The other students didn’t even seem to notice. Izuku smirked, amused at how oblivious everyone else was, and began to weave his way through the crowd, taking care to avoid bumping into anyone.

Just as the gates finished opening, Izuku moved to the front, ready for whatever was about to come. The instant the gates were fully open, he rushed ahead, the surge of adrenaline kicking in.

“START!” Present Mic’s voice boomed across the field, and the rest of the students froze. But Izuku was already in motion, leaving them behind.

“What are you waiting for?!” Present Mic shouted. “There’s no countdown in real life! The Broccoli Listener has the right idea! GO, GO, GO!”

Izuku paused mid-step, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Broccoli Listener? he thought, mentally filing the nickname away. He’d make sure to remember that one next time there was a spider in the house.

Izuku didn’t waste a second after the starting signal. His head start gave him the perfect opportunity to get to the mock city ahead of the other students. By the time they were still fumbling out of the gates, he was already surveying the area for his first set of targets.

The moment he stepped into the city, he spotted them—his first group of robots. He eyed the line-up: three two-pointers, four one-pointers, and one three-pointer. 13 points? Just for me? Oh, you shouldn’t have.

Without hesitation, Izuku flicked his wrist, his pen slipping from his fingers. It expanded instantly, the handle elongating as the tip morphed seamlessly into a sharp, gleaming scythe. The transition was as smooth as ever, and the weapon settled perfectly in his hands. It was made for him, after all.

Without even pausing to assess the robots’ movements, Izuku leapt into action. He spun the scythe with a fluid motion, cleaving through the three-pointer with ease, the robot splitting cleanly in half like a hot knife through butter.

But he didn’t stop there. With a powerful jump, Izuku soared through the air, landing effortlessly between two of the one-pointers. In a single, sweeping arc, his scythe sliced through all three of them at once, the metal parts flying apart with a satisfying clatter.

He spun gracefully, his feet hitting the ground with barely a sound. But he wasn’t finished yet.

The four remaining one-pointers opened fire on him, their weapons trained on his position. Izuku grinned. It was exactly what he wanted. In one fluid motion, he sidestepped the incoming fire, the shots missing him completely.

The one-pointers, focused on him, ended up shooting at each other, their blasters firing wildly in their attempts to hit him. Within seconds, the four of them had taken each other out, falling in a heap as they tried to aim at the wrong target.

As Izuku turned around, he saw a few kids gawking at him, and he simply gave them a wave before running ahead. 13 points wasn’t enough. He needed a lot more points to get in, and he’d be damned if he put himself in a position where Nedzu would have to cheat to get him in the course.

Chapter Text

Higari could already feel the gray hairs sprouting—and the school year hadn’t even started yet.

Normally, the Support Course entrance exams were a quiet affair. Organized, efficient, low-key. Fewer applicants than the Hero Course, and far fewer explosions. But this year? This year had declared war on his sanity.

First came the pink-haired menace who managed to blow up half of the support labs during her demonstration. Half! And the worst part? She was brilliant. Her ideas were dangerously inventive—unpolished, chaotic, but with a mind that could reshape the very foundation of support tech. Higari knew she’d be accepted without a doubt. And he also knew that meant she was going to end up his responsibility. Because of course Nedzu would dump her in his class. That rodent had a sixth sense for picking students that gave teachers migraines.

And now… this.

A cat.

Not a student with a cat mutation. Not someone with a feline quirk. A literal, four-legged, smug-as-hell domestic cat was seated at the examination bench, licking her paw like she was gracing the entire Support Course with her divine presence.

Higari’s eye twitched.

Now it made sense why Nedzu had personally insisted on reviewing every support course application this year. Of course he had. Because somehow, somewhere in the bureaucratic black magic of UA’s admissions system, a cat had made it through .

He wasn’t sure whether to scream or resign. He was just this close to dropping the pre-drafted resignation letter that has been sitting on his house since the day he was hired into Nedzu’s desk first thing after this was over.

And judging by the unbothered, confident swish of the cat’s tail… she knew. She knew . This was her domain now.

“This is fine,” Higari muttered, staring into the void. “I’m fine.”

To make matters worse—and they were already spectacularly bad—the cat might actually be smarter than Hatsume.

“Greetings, peasants— ahem , I mean, humans. Rejoice, for I, Mittens, Destroyer of Worlds, have deigned to grace you with my presence today.”

The voice came from a small speaker on the cat’s collar, a smug, clearly female tone dripping with superiority. Higari’s eye twitched as he stared at the unassuming collar. That little thing alone was a technological marvel. A fully functional animal translator. Something the brightest minds in the world had tried—and deigned impossible—to make.

Mittens licked her paw daintily, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Uh, r-right,” one of the HPSC agents, who always sit down on those exams, stammered, trying to regain control of the situation. “Let’s begin. I assume you'll be presenting the animal translat—"

“This trash ?” Mittens cut in, her voice scandalized. “You mean this embarrassing little toy? Please. This thing was slapped together using a broken tape recorder, two broken TV remotes and an old karaoke player. It’s so beneath me that if it wasn’t necessary so you inferior lifeforms could understand what I say I’d be ashamed to even wear it.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Higari could feel a vein throbbing in his forehead.

He was going to scream. He was going to scream, cry, fake his death, and move to the mountains to live a quiet life herding goats. He could not do this. He was too old for this.

But the exam had to continue.

With the emotional weight of a man on the brink of total collapse, Higari forced out the next question through gritted teeth. “...And what are you presenting, then?”

Please, for the love of gears and grease, let it not be a death ray.

Every single person in the room froze, wide-eyed, as the small, fluffy cat’s backpack began to shift.

With a faint mechanical hum, a pair of sleek, multi-jointed arms extended from the sides of the pack, unfolding with the eerie precision of some futuristic insect. The movement was fluid, graceful—too graceful for something that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi horror flick. The arms reached into the pack and gently retrieved a metallic cube about the size of a lunchbox, placing it on the table with meticulous care.

Mittens, still licking her paw as if none of this was out of the ordinary, cast a smug glance around the stunned audience.

“The back-arms aren’t my own creation,” came her voice, smooth and condescending through the speaker on her collar. “They were a gift from a friend. Thought I could use something to help with fine-motor tasks, since—unlike humans—I lack thumbs. Truly, your one redeeming evolutionary feature.”

One of the HPSC agents blinked slowly, still processing the sentence.

“Of course,” Mittens continued with a bored sigh, “I could design a superior model in a weekend if I cared to. But I rather like these. They have a certain... rustic charm. And I, unlike some beings, appreciate sentimentality.”

Higari didn’t respond. He didn’t even blink. He just stared, dead inside, at the cube sitting innocently on the table, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

“I’ll start with something simple,” Mittens purred. Higari leaned forward, cautious but curious. Maybe it was some kind of portable lab device, or a sensor array—

A soft chime sounded from the cube. Then a shimmer of light appeared, coalescing into a glowing orb above the surface. The orb pulsed once, then rapidly shifted—condensing into a distinct shape.

The glow faded.

“Oh fuck, That’s a grenade,” one of the HPSC assistants muttered. Then the words that just left his mouth hit him with full force. “FUCK, THAT’S A GRENADE LAUNCHER!” He immediately dove under the table.

Higari seriously considered joining him.

Mittens didn’t miss a beat. “This is one of my favorite pieces,” she said, her tone positively chipper. One of her mechanical arms carefully lifted the weapon, rotating it with pride. “It’s modeled after the classic M32—nostalgic, I know—but I’ve made a few modest upgrades. Tripled its range, improved its recoil balance, and best of all—completely modular ammunition compatibility.” She paused for dramatic effect. “It can fire anything from rubber rounds to paintballs. Cryo rounds. Smoke. Flashbangs. The napalm grenades are still in testing.”

“THE WHAT !?” someone shrieked.

Another glow lit the cube, and a yellow-striped cartridge emerged smoothly from a side hatch. The mechanical arm plucked it up and popped open the launcher with practiced ease, loading the round in one clean motion.

“I color-code my ammunition. Even the most tragically unobservant human couldn’t possibly mess it up.”

She pointed the launcher toward a designated dummy target across the room, completely unfazed by the sheer panic rising behind her.

“These are stun rounds,” she clarified sweetly. “Now—observe.”

There was a thump as the round fired. For a second, Higari could have sworn time slowed. The projectile sailed through the air with haunting precision.

As soon as the projectile hit the dummy, the room was immediately filled with a deafening bang. The sound was swiftly followed by a violent crackling discharge, and arcs of electricity erupted in every direction. 

The synthetic skin of the target—designed to withstand impact, heat, and electrical interference—began to twitch and jerk uncontrollably, its limbs spasming like a malfunctioning blender. Sparks flew, and sizzling noises filled the air as the dummy buckled under the onslaught.

One of the HPSC agents, wide-eyed, gasped, “Th-that thing is supposed to be insulated!”

Mittens, completely unfazed, continued to lick her paw as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. “Yes, I guessed it would be. But insulation has limits, darling. Especially when you fine-tune the charge to bypass standard resistance layers and deliver a controlled internal overload.”

A second dummy, hit by the residual static wave, slumped off its stand with a limp crash.

Higari slowly dragged a hand down his face, his expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. “You just... electrocuted a dummy rated to tank lightning.”

“I know!” Mittens chirped, her tail swishing with delight. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She gave a small, self-satisfied giggle. "Don’t worry. I made sure to add a dial feature to the launcher. It can go from a mild static shock to... well, something that would give your average lightning bolt a run for its money. Anyway, moving on!”

Without skipping a beat, she placed the grenade launcher back over the cube, and it evaporated into a shimmering beam of light, returning to its compact form. A second pulse of light appeared, and this time, it revealed a collar—streamlined and sleek—along with a pair of elbow long gauntlets with several disks going up the arms.

Higari stared at the new device with an increasing sense of dread. His eyes narrowed when Mittens spoke again.

“I’m sure you all know Present Mic,” she began, voice as smooth as ever. “Well, I don’t know what idiot designed his directional speaker system, but with those bulky things, I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t broken his neck yet.”

Higari felt like an arrow pierced his chest. He was that idiot, and Mic’s directional speakers had been one of his proudest projects.

“Not to mention how basic they are,” Mittens continued, completely oblivious to the effect her words were having. “They just redirect his voice. So boring. Well, I’m here to fix that problem.”

She slipped the collar around her neck, adjusting it comfortably as she grinned like a cat who had just knocked over a vase. “These new directional speakers are almost weightless. They’re precision-engineered to amplify and focus soundwaves with a level of accuracy that Present Mic’s system could never dream of. It’s so much more refined than those clunky things.”

“First, we have precision,” Mittens announced, her voice smooth and smug, like a TED Talk hosted by a particularly condescending deity in a fur coat. “This baby can focus the full force of a soundwave on a pinpoint target.”

She turned to a new test dummy and let out a soft, polite meow.

The collar reacted instantly. A near-silent pulse of concentrated sound burst forward—not with a roar, but a whisper so fine-tuned it was barely audible to the room. Yet, the result was anything but subtle: a clean, smoking hole bloomed in the dummy’s chest, perfectly round, right where its heart would’ve been.

Gasps echoed around the room. Someone coughed awkwardly.

“I’ve isolated the output,” Mittens continued, not missing a beat. “Just another flaw of the original design—sorry, massive flaw.” Higari felt another stab to his pride. “Just because a blast is ‘directed’ doesn’t mean the bleed doesn’t wreak havoc on eardrums nearby. Even a whisper can be a weapon, if you know how to aim it.” Her tail flicked as if in punctuation. “With this, you can choose how focused or dispersed the wave is. Maximum impact, zero collateral. Even Present Mic could go full throttle in a crowded alley without deafening a single civilian.”

That caught everyone’s attention. Present Mic already had one of the lowest collateral ratings of any hero with an area-effect quirk. If this device lived up to Mittens’ claims, it could rocket him into the top ten heroes with ease—maybe even top five.

“Of course,” Mittens added with a dismissive wave of a paw, “that’s just the foundation. I wouldn’t be caught dead peddling something so basic .”

She motioned to the gloves now, which had a series of small, sleek disks nestled into the palms and backs of each hand. With a simple flick of her claws, the disks detached and began to float, circling the dummy in smooth, calculated orbits.

“I can control these with my quirk, naturally,” she said, as though psychic manipulation was just common etiquette. “But for those less evolved than I am, they can be directed through brainwave commands. I just need to bond the equipment to the user's DNA.”

There was silence.

“You’re saying it’s—biometrically linked?” one of the HPSC techs asked weakly.

“Yes, of course,” Mittens replied breezily. “It’s keyed to the neural frequency of the bonded user. No theft, no misuse. Even if someone does steal it, it won’t respond. Unless you’ve got the same DNA and brainwaves, in which case—clones? How gauche.”

Higari felt the headache forming like a thundercloud. DNA-locked, brainwave-controlled, modular sound projection tech? That was the kind of sci-fi even I-Island couldn’t apply to anything beyond a scarf even so many years after being first designed. And Mittens was talking about it like she made it between catnaps.

“To demonstrate,” Mittens continued, “observe.”

She let out another meow—same pitch, same duration—but this time, the sound didn’t come from her collar. Instead, the floating disks around the dummy lit up, and a series of concussive soundwaves blasted the target from all angles. The dummy didn’t stand a chance—it twisted, bent, and crumpled under the barrage before the final burst knocked it flat on its back.

“Oh, and the disks can also form surround barriers, or act as signal scramblers, or—well, we’ll get to that.”

Mittens sat primly, her collar glowing faintly, tail curling with unmistakable pride.

Higari felt his soul begin to exit his body.

Why. Why was this cat here?

Mittens, Destroyer of Worlds, wasn’t just outclassing the applicants. She wasn’t just surpassing his students. She wasn’t just better than him . No—she was better than every support engineer on the planet, rolled into one fluffy, unbearably smug feline package.

Where had she come from? Who taught her? Was she born in a lab? Was this karma for something he did in a past life? And the worst, most terrifying question of all—how in the nine cursed circles of hell was he supposed to keep her from ever being in the same room as Principal Nedzu ?

He already knew the answer.  He couldn’t. No one could.

It was over. Humanity was done for. The age of man was ending, and the age of cat-engineered tech supremacy had begun. Honestly, the government might as well just surrender. Maybe they could get off easy if they offered catnip and the Wi-Fi password.

And the nightmare wasn’t even done .

“Oh!” Mittens purred, tail twitching with unholy joy. “Now for the fun part!”

Higari gripped the desk like it was the only thing tethering him to this world as the mechanical arms retrieved the next piece.

First, a pair of bladed tonfas—sleek, metallic, and compact enough to fold up and slide into a pocket. She casually demonstrated one slicing through a reinforced steel pipe like it was a breadstick.

“Titanium alloy with a compressed vibrational edge,” she said, like that was a phrase normal people used.

Then came the gloves. Innocent-looking things—until she demonstrated how they redirected a literal flamethrower blast through their palm vents, focusing the fire into a white-hot stream that hissed as it cut through a training dummy like a laser.

“Oh, yes,” she said sweetly. “It’s a mobile plasma cutter now. I call it the Firebender series. Practical and dramatic!”

Higari gagged quietly.

Next were the gauntlets. Mittens set them on the table, and one of the HPSC agents laughed nervously.

“Are those for kids or—?”

BOOM. Mittens activated them, and the reinforced testing platform shattered under their weight. She just looked at him and said, “Try breaking them. Even All Might couldn’t. Trust me. I asked him.”

She what?

She then unveiled a custom arrow quiver, filled with handcrafted bolts. “This one’s venomous. This one homes in on its target using heat signatures. This one explodes. This one—ah, it can pierce diamond. I made it for fun. That one, though?” She pointed at a shimmering silver arrow. “It screams.”

“It what ?” someone croaked.

“It screams,” Mittens confirmed sweetly. “Like a banshee. Very useful for psychological warfare.”

Then came the image inductor—a perfectly normal looking clock that as soon as activated turned one the surviving dummies into a perfect visual replica of one of the HPSC agents in the room. Voice, face, even micro-expressions. Higari watched the agent faint in the background.

“And finally,” Mittens said, with the dramatic flair of someone announcing a birthday cake, “a personal project I call The Pew Pew Meow Meow Division .”

A light show came from the cube, turning into a swarm of tiny drones flying around the room—each equipped with enough firepower to arm a private militia. They fanned out into formation, weapons locking on to predetermined targets, holding perfectly still in a menacing, synchronized hover.

“They’re polite,” Mittens added. “And fully programmable. Facial recognition, terrain mapping. There’s even a Vicious Mockery option in case I’m feeling extra petty. And yes, before you ask, I did build a remote kill-switch into every single one. Unlike human engineers, I made sure all my devices have a fail-safe built in.”

At this point, Higari was silently sending prayers to every deity, spirit, and supernatural entity he could remember. Hero gods, machine gods, the ghost of Thomas Edison, the vending machine outside the support lab that always gave free snacks when you kicked it just right—anyone, anything that could end this madness. And finally—finally—it looked like someone, somewhere, had heard his desperate pleas.

The drones returned to the cube in perfect formation, folding neatly into the compact device like the obedient little war crimes they were. Mittens plucked the cube from the table and casually slipped it back into her backpack. The mechanical arms began retracting, their smooth movements almost too graceful to belong to something so obviously terrifying.

“Well,” she purred, radiating smugness, “I believe that concludes my demonstration for today.”

Higari slumped in his seat, knees weak, spirit drained. Maybe—just maybe—he could salvage the year. He could file a report, recommend extensive therapy for everyone present, and spend the rest of the semester designing earplugs and tranquilizer darts. He could—

“W-wait…”

No.

No.

That voice. That nervous, shaky, irredeemably curious voice.

Higari turned, slow and horrified, toward the source: one of the HPSC agents, raising their hand like a child about to ask their parents the forbidden question.

“What about the cube?” the agent asked, eyes wide with innocent wonder.

Higari stared at them, betrayal seeping from every pore. If looks could kill, the agent would've disintegrated on the spot. Higari didn’t even speak—his glare said everything. Why would you do this to us.

“Oh, that ?” Mittens tilted her head, blinking like she’d just been asked why the sky was blue. “It’s just a little side project. Carrying all my gear around was getting annoying.”

Just.

Higari’s pulse spiked. His blood pressure probably achieved escape velocity.

“It converts physical matter into data and stores it digitally,” Mittens added, like she was describing a toaster. “This prototype can hold roughly the mass of Jupiter. Give or take a few moons.”

A long silence followed.

Then a loud thud echoed through the room as Higari slid from his chair, hitting the ground face-first in the most graceful collapse of his professional career.

Mittens blinked. “Was it something I said?”

Chapter Text

So… yeah. Izuku probably should’ve been taking things a little more seriously.

But after racking up over 50 points in under ten minutes? It was hard to feel anything beyond mildly amused. His scythe carved through the exam robots like they were made of wet cardboard. Honestly, it was almost too easy. Maybe he should’ve gone with the non-lethal model Mittens had prepped for him. Then again, knowing her, it probably hid something insane like a blade that exploded whenever it hit something.

Still, with 63 points tallied in his mental count, Izuku figured he could afford to take it easy. He gave his scythe a smooth swing before resting it across his shoulder, blade tilted downward so he wouldn’t accidentally decapitate anyone on his leisurely stroll. Safety first.

Around him, the mock city echoed with chaos. Explosions. Screams. The crunch of metal-on-metal violence. Students were yelling over the noise, calling out point totals like they were playing some twisted game of bingo. Not one of them had broken 40 points yet.

Izuku strolled on, hands in his pockets, completely unconcerned—until a 2-Pointer came flying out of nowhere, slamming into a nearby building and taking out half the wall with it.

“Okay,” Izuku muttered, glancing at the cratered structure. “That’s excessive.”

He turned to see who’d launched it but whoever it was had already disappeared into the chaos.

Just as he was about to resume his walk, he caught something in his peripheral—a massive concrete slab, dislodged by the crash, teetering dangerously overhead. And directly beneath it, completely unaware, was a boy tangled up in a fight with a 3-Pointer.

Izuku didn’t hesitate.

He broke into a sprint, vaulted off a fallen robot like it was a springboard, and soared through the air. As he passed over the boy, he brought his scythe down in a clean, precise arc. The blade cleaved through the concrete midair, splitting the slab in two before either half could reach the ground.

Both chunks hit the pavement with a deafening crash—right beside the kid, but not a scratch on him.

The boy flinched, startled, finally looking up just in time to catch a glimpse of Izuku landing lightly on the ground, and resting his scythe over his shoulder.

“Watch your head,” Izuku called as he started walking away.

The boy blinked a few times, before a beep from the 3-Pointer brought him back to the moment, and he went back to his fight.

Izuku left him to his own devices as he watched the chaos around him. As people grew more desperate to get points, they also got a lot more reckless, which resulted in a lot more accidents happening.

Well, Izuku definitely had something to do for the rest of the exam now.

-- . .- -. .-- .... .. .-.. .

Hitoshi would die before admitting it out loud but he was really damn grateful for having two of the most relentless taskmasters in the known universe as his mentors.

If it weren’t for the years of brutal drills, random tests, and endless lectures they’d put him through, he’d probably be running around like that midget with the purple balls for hair he’d just barely rescued from becoming scrap metal.

The gremlin in question had been running in circles, screaming about how “this test was unfair,” how his quirk “wasn’t good for this,” and how he “couldn’t possibly die a virgin.” And, of course, there had been a very loud complaint about not touching a boob yet.

Honestly, Hitoshi had seriously considered just letting the robot finish the job.

But… unfortunately, he wanted to be a hero. And heroes didn’t get to pick and choose who they saved—even if the person they saved was a loudmouthed creep with a hairstyle that looked like grapes taped to his skull.

With a long-suffering sigh, Hitoshi had grabbed the pint-sized idiot by the collar and yanked him out of danger, tossing him aside with all the care of someone flinging a trash bag into a dumpster.

Then he turned his attention to the robot.

The 3-Pointer locked on, its arm-mounted cannons lighting up with a whine before launching a volley of slow, telegraphed missiles. Hitoshi sidestepped with ease, weaving through the barrage like he was dancing.

As the final shot sailed past him, he closed the gap, pulling out the collapsible baton he’d gotten barely approved for the test. With a quick snap of his wrist, the baton extended, and he drove it directly into the red sensor “eye” on the robot’s head.

Sparks flew. The machine twitched, convulsed… and collapsed, limbs locking up before it fell over in a heap of sparking wires and twisted metal.

Hitoshi exhaled and stared down at the baton still gripped in his hand. It was holding up, almost too well. Like everything Mittens made. Hitoshi was sure she could even sharpen a kitchen knife to the point it could cut diamond.

Still, he pouted slightly at his weapon. It wasn’t his first choice. Not even his fifth choice, actually.

It just wasn’t fair . He’d trained for years with his capture scarf. Mittens had even made him a customized version—lightweight, versatile, nearly indestructible. And he wasn’t allowed to use it.

Izuku got to waltz around swinging a giant-ass scythe like he was auditioning for a gothic metal band’s album cover… but Hitoshi couldn’t have a glorified scarf?

Yeah. Hitoshi was calling it: favoritism. And nepotism.

Still, despite all his internal, and external, complaining, he wasn’t actually mad. If anything, he was just bitter he couldn’t be in the same testing area to witness the chaos firsthand. He could practically picture it—Izuku standing there all casual and dead-eyed, flipping that completely innocent-looking pen into a full-on scythe like it was no big deal, and then proceeding to carve through robots like he was cutting bread.

Everyone losing their marbles over it? That would be glorious to see.

Hitoshi snickered at the thought. That uptight kid that tried to call Izuku out at the auditorium earlier would probably have an aneurysm.

He made a mental note to ask Nedzu for the tapes later. Maybe he could trade that good tea Izuku had brought after his last job in India. Nedzu could never resist a quality brew.

Yeah… that could work.

Hitoshi barely dodged in time as the tail of a 2-Pointer snapped down right where he’d been standing seconds before. Whoops. Definitely not the moment to get distracted.

Wasting no time, he closed the distance, swinging his baton hard and connecting with the robot’s head. Without missing a beat, he drove the baton through the three glowing red lights on its “chest.” 

Judging by the way the robot jerked and powered down, like all the others Hitoshi hit on the same spot, those red lights were definitely the universal weak spot on these test models.

Hitoshi straightened up, catching his breath and scanning the area.

How many points did he have now? He kinda lost track somewhere between the screaming pervert and the second missile-dodging round.

Eh. Didn’t matter. Better to just rack up more.

He spun the baton in his hand and took off down the street, eyes scanning for his next target. As he started running, a deep rumble rolled through the mock city streets, the ground trembling beneath his feet like an oncoming earthquake.

Hitoshi skidded to a stop, glancing over his shoulder—just in time to see a massive shadow creeping over the nearby buildings.

His eyes widened.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?”

--.. --- -- -... .. . / --- ..- - -... .-. . .- -.-

In the observation room, the teachers were spread out around a bank of monitors, watching the live feeds from the various testing zones. Their voices overlapped in a steady murmur as they discussed promising candidates, jotted down notes, and occasionally pressed buttons to award rescue points for good judgment or quick action.

Ronin sat near the back of the room, lounging in a chair beside Shouta and Nedzu. He wasn’t part of the grading committee—not just because he wasn’t a pro hero, but also because of his very clear bias toward two of the applicants currently tearing through the test zones. Same reason Shouta was benched from judging, though the grumpy Eraserhead didn’t look too thrilled about it.

Present Mic had gotten a pass, since he was only acting as the proctor and wasn’t assigning any points. 

Ronin caught the occasional side-eye from the faculty, but he met every glance with a blank poker face, completely unreadable. Nedzu had already introduced him and the rest of the crew as new support staff for the year. That was all anyone needed to know. If they were curious about his backstory, well… let them stew in it. Ronin wasn’t about to start spinning his fake origin just to make them comfortable.

Still, just because he wasn’t judging students didn’t mean he didn’t have opinions . And Ronin wasn’t the type to keep them to himself.

“That bot’s slower than a retirement home parade,” he said casually, pointing at the screen showing a 3-Pointer lobbing sluggish missiles. “An old man with a cane could dodge those.”

From his spot by the wall, Yagi visibly winced and pressed a hand to his abdomen, looking ahead with a haunted expression. He wisely said nothing.

Recovery Girl, however, had no such restraint. She smacked Ronin’s shin with her cane, her expression irritated and tired. “Could you not? We’ve been trying to get Nedzu to tone down the exam. Do not give him ideas.”

Ronin didn’t even flinch, just smirked. “I’m just saying. If we’re going to scare kids half to death, we might as well make it believable.”

“No, no, I rather like that suggestion,” Nedzu chimed in, sipping his tea with far too much cheer. “Perhaps it’s finally time to give the entrance exam a more realistic overhaul.”

Shouta, mid-sip of his coffee, choked violently and whipped his head toward the principal with a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “I’ve been trying to get you to change the exam for years. You ignored me every single time.”

“Yes, but you didn’t phrase it as amusingly,” Nedzu replied, beaming. “Oh! Speaking of which—” He leaned forward and tapped a monitor. “Let’s see how the examinees handle the real obstacle.”

The glint in his eyes sent a shiver through half the room. Shouta groaned into his hands.

With a press of a button, the floor started to rumble, and Ronin watched as skyscraper sized robots were released in all testing areas. He couldn't help the impressed whistle at the view.

“Where the hell does the budget for that shit even come from?”

Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his eyes scanning the feeds with growing interest. Now this was starting to look like a proper test.

Most kids were frozen in place, others were running for their lives. But the ones Ronin was interested in weren't the ones who ran from the Kaiju robots, but the ones who ran at it, instead.

In one of the testing zones, a black-haired boy came to a dead stop, staring up at the towering Zero-Pointer approaching, frozen in fear. Yet, the hesitation only lasted for a second. Then, he gave himself a hard shake and slapped both cheeks with his hands, the sound sharp and decisive.

He turned on his heel, not to flee—but to charge .

The boy sprinted straight toward the mechanical giant, weaving through debris and panicked students without breaking stride. As he moved, his arms transformed, looking like they turned into solid rock. Ronin's eyes narrowed slightly.

“Looks a lot like Katashi’s quirk…” he muttered under his breath before cutting that line of thought off. “Nope. Not going there.” Shouto was the conspiracy theorist, not Ronin.

Back on screen, the kid didn’t even hesitate. He planted himself directly in the Zero-Pointer’s path, like some reenactment of the David and Goliath story. Though in this case, the boy was both David and the stone. As the robot rolled forward, picking up speed, the boy drove both of his stone arms deep into the tread of one side’s massive treadmill.

The reaction was immediate—sparks exploded outward as the machine scratched against his hardened arms. The force nearly knocked the kid back, but he dug in his heels, grit his teeth, and held. And slowly, against all odds, the tread began to slow.

The opposite tread kept churning, dragging the Zero-Pointer into an unstable twist. It faltered, its massive body shifting at an unnatural angle, and then—with a metallic groan loud enough to be picked up on the mics—it tipped.

The toppling robot ended up knocking down a full building, which was an amount of collateral damage that wouldn’t look good for a hero. But thankfully for that kid, that wasn’t really an aspect that was judged in this test.

Ronin thought it should be, but he could see why that would be too harsh on those kids who barely had any training. They had three years to whip those kids in shape. It was enough time. It only took a few weeks to train Izuku enough to join an Underground Mercenary Guild. And he wasn’t even seven at the time.

“The ones with enough firepower and confidence choose to face the danger head-on,” Nedzu said cheerfully, his paws folded over each other as he watched the feeds with bright, calculating eyes.

One of the larger screens showed an ash-blond boy launching himself skyward with an explosive blast, closing the distance between him and the Zero-Pointer’s head in seconds. With another series of explosions, he reduced the robot’s cranial unit to molten slag and twisted metal, the rest of its frame crumpling in on itself. Smoke rose in thick plumes from the wreckage as the boy landed in a crouch, already preparing another volley.

“Others take a more… strategic approach,” Nedzu continued.

On another monitor, a green-haired girl stood perfectly still in the middle of the chaos, hands clasped together in a quiet prayer. The vines from her hair writhed and lashed outward, wrapping around startled examinees and yanking them out of the robot’s path with precision. Nearby, a girl with frog-like features was leaping from around the debris, her tongue whipping out to snatch others from harm just seconds before debris came crashing down.

In another zone, Hitoshi could be seen dashing through the broken streets, fireman-carrying a dazed blond kid over his shoulders like a sack of flour. 

“And then,” Nedzu said, voice dipping into a tone of amusement, “we have the outliers.”

The largest screen shifted to show Izuku standing beside a brown-haired girl with a soft blush painted permanently across her face. She was pinned by some rubble, which he quickly and efficiently helped her out from under. They exchanged a few words  then she grabbed his arm.

Immediately, Izuku began to float, rising slightly off the ground as his body seemingly lost all weight. Whatever he said made the girl nod, brace herself and begin spinning Izuku like an Olympic hammer thrower. After a few rotations, she launched him with impressive strength straight at the towering robot.

The second she let go, she collapsed to her knees and began violently puking into the rubble beside her.

Meanwhile, Izuku soared like a missile.

Mid-flight, he reached for a button on the shaft of his scythe. With a click , the weapon began to rotate rapidly around him, energy pulsing along its length, and... 

“Okay, I wasn’t aware he could do that.” Ronin muttered.

As if unfurling from a hidden dimension, the blade extended outward—growing until it was easily longer than the scythe’s own handle several times over, glowing faintly with stored kinetic energy.

As he closed in, Izuku adjusted his body mid-air, coiling in preparation.

Then—slash.

In one sweeping arc, he swung the massive blade down, cleaving clean through the Zero-Pointer from shoulder to hip like it was made of cardboard. The attack didn’t stop there—the extended edge continued through both buildings flanking the robot, slicing through steel and concrete like butter.

The camera feed shook violently as debris crashed to the ground in slow motion.

“…Was that really necessary?” Recovery Girl asked dryly.

“Probably not,” Shouta muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples.

“Definitely not,” Ronin added, grinning faintly. “But it was hella cool.”

What could he say? Ronin was a proud Dad, and he never bothered to hide it when it came to Izuku.

Chapter Text

In the two weeks following the entrance exam, Hitoshi spent more time than he’d ever admit silently teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic spiral. He knew he’d done well enough. Logically, he had the scores, the saves, the tactical plays—but logic meant squat when anxiety was involved.

Or, well, it would’ve meant squat if not for his half-dead, chaos-goblin of a pseudo sibling who refused to let him spiral in peace.

Every time Hitoshi so much as looked like he was about to overthink, Izuku would materialize from the shadows with all the subtlety of a thrown brick.

“Wanna play Minecraft?”

“DDR rematch, let’s go.”

“I modded Skyrim again. Come watch me suplex a dragon.”

It was distracting. It was relentless. It was effective.

And it was also really freaking annoying.

Hitoshi appreciated it. He really did. But damn, Izuku, let a guy brood in a corner for five minutes without dragging him into a PvP brawl or another co-op horror game where the real horror was Izuku’s total disregard for stealth mechanics.

Still, better that than being left alone with his own brain.

Shouto had also become a semi-permanent fixture around the house during those weeks. Apparently, getting first place in the recommendation exam had put Endeavor in a rare enough good mood that he actually gave Shouto some rest from his training. And since Endeavor didn’t care how Shouto used his time so long as he didn’t die, Shouto was now a regular guest.

A guest that Izuku immediately roped into his ongoing mission to introduce the world of video games to the Fire-Ice prince.

It was… a work in progress.

Hitoshi still snorted every time he remembered Shouto sitting stiff as a board in front of the monitor, awkwardly pressing keyboard buttons one at a time using only his index fingers —like an old woman using a computer for the first time— then taking a full twenty minutes to realize the mouse moved the camera.

Shouto looked so proud to have figured that out without Izuku telling him…

Still, between the gaming marathons, occasional sparring matches, and endless teasing, the days passed faster than Hitoshi expected.

Then the letter arrived.

They were in the middle of a particularly cursed round of Gartic Phone—Izuku was doubled over laughing so hard he was wheezing, Hitoshi was trying and failing to make sense of what looked like a sentient banana committing tax fraud, and Shouto, calm and detached as ever, was quietly sketching what might’ve been either an Emboar or an aggressively passive-aggressive caricature of Endeavor. Honestly, it was hard to tell. The flaming mustache was throwing off the entire vibe.

That’s when they heard a knock on the door by Frank’s voice echoing from the hallway like the Judgement Hall Bells (I’m not dramatic, Izuku!)

“I’ve got mail. Two of ’em. U.A. seal and everything.”

All three boys froze mid-movement, the silence hitting like a record scratch.

“…You serious?” Hitoshi asked, already dreading the answer.

The door opened and Frank poked his head into the room, raising a brow and holding up the two pristine envelopes like they were ancient scrolls containing fates unknown. “Nope. I’m lying to your face because I thrive on emotionally tormenting teenagers.” He said with a smirk.

Izuku snorted so hard he nearly fell off the couch.

Frank dropped the letters on the coffee table with an exaggerated thunk and vanished down the hall again, clearly uninterested in the life-altering implications now sitting in front of them.

One envelope was addressed to Yamada Hitoshi.

The other, to Aizawa Izuku.

Even Shouto paused his drawing and set the stylus down with uncharacteristic care, apparently sensing that now was not the time for a deadpan comment about Hitoshi’s impending nervous breakdown.

Izuku, however, lacked that restraint entirely.

With zero hesitation, he picked up Hitoshi’s letter, waved it in front of his face, and grinned. “So. You opening it, or do I get the honors?”

“READ THE ROOM, YOU GOBLIN,” Hitoshi snapped, snatching the envelope from his hand with all the grace of a feral raccoon. “Can't even have one dramatic moment in peace. Stupid zombie brother.”

“I’m alive, you know,” Izuku said, utterly unbothered.

“Might as well not be. What’s your heart rate these days, 20 BPM?” Hitoshi muttered as he tore open the letter.

Izuku only wiggled his fingers at him like a spooky ghost. “Boooo. That’s circulation envy.”

Shouto just tilted his head slightly. “Should I… make tea?”

“No!” Hitoshi yelled. “No one move. No one breathe. I’m reading this damn letter.”

Hitoshi’s fingers hovered for a second longer, nerves threatening to hijack his brain, but he knew—he knew—if he hesitated even a second more, Izuku would rip the envelope open for him and start narrating it like some kind of overly dramatic audiobook. So with a frustrated grunt, he finally tore it open.

A sleek, metal disk slid out and clinked onto the coffee table. It looked like some kind of advanced USB or mini projector, with a small glowing button at its center.

“Ooh, shiny,” Izuku said, immediately leaning in. “There’s a button.”

“No kidding,” Hitoshi muttered. “Well, no time like the present.”

“I AM HERE! AS A PROJECTION!!!”

Hitoshi was sure he felt the entire room shake like an earthquake had just hit it.

Hitoshi gawked at the massive, glowing image of All Might beaming from the disk like it was a boss-level cutscene.

“Now, young Yamada ,” the projection boomed, “I’d give a whole heartfelt speech about how you’re probably shocked to see me here, but let’s be real—you knew it was going to be me. So let’s skip the theatrics—mostly.”

All Might winked.

“I’m sure you don’t need to hear it, but you passed the written exam with flying colors. In fact, you landed in the top 80%! That’s an incredible feat. Though your math could use some work.”

Hitoshi didn’t pout at the jab!

Izuku snickered.

“But that’s not what you care about, is it?” All Might straightened, then gave a slight pause. “In the practical exam… you earned 31 villain points. An admirable score! Especially for someone without a direct combat quirk or heavy support gear. However…”

And there it was. The pause. The inhale. The—

“That score alone wouldn’t be enough to place you in the Hero Course.”

Hitoshi’s breath stopped cold in his chest.

That line. That exact sentence. The one that he had been dreading hearing for the last two weeks. He failed.

You didn’t do enough.

You don’t belong here.

Why did you even try—

“IF!” All Might's voice crashed through his spiral like a shockwave. “That was all there was to the exam!!”

Hitoshi instantly snapped his attention back to the projection, breath catching in his throat.

“What kind of hero school would this be if we didn’t reward heroic behavior?” All Might said, now standing with his arms proudly crossed. “Roll the footage!”

The hologram cut to a video: Hitoshi grabbing that tiny pervert by the collar and yeeting him away from the 3-Pointer like a sack of groceries. Then it shifted to him carrying that dazed blond kid in a fireman’s carry, sprinting away from the Zero-Pointer.

The scene transitioned again—to a recording of the same blond, nervously wringing his hands while speaking to Present Mic.

“Excuse me,” the boy said softly. “I… I can’t remember much of what happened. But Recovery Girl said someone carried me after I passed out. Saved me from the giant robot. I think I remember someone pulling me away…” His voice cracked slightly. “Can I… maybe share my points with them? I’d be dead meat if they hadn’t helped.”

“Sorry, Listener,” Present Mic had replied, tone softer than usual. “Sharing points isn’t possible. But don’t worry—something tells me your mysterious hero will be just fine.”

The recording faded, returning to All Might’s projection.

“Young Yamada,” he said, beaming proudly, “your actions displayed bravery, selflessness, and the instincts of a true hero. For that, we’ve awarded you fifty-five rescue points! Bringing your total to—drumroll please—eighty-six points!!”

All Might struck a pose so powerful it should’ve had its own weather system.

“That not only gets you into the Hero Course… it places you second overall!”

The projection ended in a fanfare so triumphant Hitoshi was surprised the ceiling didn’t collapse.

He stared at the empty air where All Might had just stood, jaw slack, mind blank. “I… I got in.” His voice came out hoarse. “I actually got in. I… got in.”

Izuku let out a victorious yell and threw an arm around him, shaking him like a soda bottle. “HELL YES YOU DID!! Second place, baby! Look at you, Toshi! You absolute legend!”

Hitoshi was still trying to form coherent thought when a choked gasp came from the side.

They both turned just in time to see Shouto taking a deep inhale, eyes slightly watery.

“…Were you holding your breath that whole time?” Hitoshi asked, stunned.

Shouto blinked. “You said not to breathe.”

“I DIDN’T MEAN LITERALLY!!” Hitoshi yelled.

“You weren’t specific.” Shouto replied, deadpan as always. Hitoshi was starting to think it was on purpose.

Izuku collapsed onto the floor in a full-on laughing fit, wheezing like a broken kazoo. He clutched his stomach as his legs kicked weakly against the carpet, gasping for air while pointing a trembling finger at Shouto.

“He— he really just— ‘you weren’t specific’—!” he shrieked, voice cracking. “Oh my god, you’re not real. Shouto, you’re not real! You’re just a glitch in the simulation!”

Shouto, as composed as ever, stepped over Izuku’s dying form without so much as a glance down, making his way to the coffee table. He picked up the remaining envelope and examined it like it might be booby-trapped.

“…So,” he said, voice flat, “are you opening this, or should I?”

Before Hitoshi could even open his mouth, Izuku launched himself over the table like a caffeinated squirrel, snatching the envelope from Shouto’s hands with all the enthusiasm of someone winning the lottery.

“YES, I AM,” Izuku declared with the confidence of a man who had absolutely no business being that confident.

Hitoshi watched this unfold with all the tired patience of an older sibling whose coffee had been stolen by chaos incarnate. “Last time I ever let him drink my coffee,” he muttered.

Izuku tore the envelope open like a toddler with wrapping paper and popped the disk into place next to Hitoshi’s, slamming the button with theatrical flair. “Let’s see what we’ve got here, boys!”

The projection flickered to life—and instead of All Might, the cheerful face of Nedzu appeared, paws clasped in front of him like a delighted little gremlin.

“Hello, my favorite human!” Nedzu chirped. “I’m sure you were expecting All Might, but since you’re already my personal student, I thought I’d be the one to deliver the good news!”

“NEDZU-SENSEI!” Izuku beamed—then quickly sobered up, frowning in exaggerated betrayal. “Wait. I’m still mad at you. Right. Anger face.” He attempted a glare but ended up pouting like an angry kitten.

Hitoshi groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Seriously. No more caffeine for you. Ever.”

The projection carried on, blissfully unbothered by Izuku’s emotional whiplash.

“Now, now, my young student,” Nedzu continued with a smile far too sharp for comfort, “let’s get right to it. You got a near-perfect score on the written exam! The only deductions came from your, ah, morally flexible answers to the ethical scenario questions. As principal, I was obligated to dock a few points.”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “Off the record, I was quite proud of them. In my personal scoring, you earned 100%!”

Hitoshi raised a brow. “I don’t even want to know what those answers were.”

“Oh, you really don’t,” Izuku said, far too cheerfully.

Nedzu continued: “As for your practical exam… you earned 63 villain points—impressive enough to land you comfortably in the top ten all on its own. But I imagine you’ve already seen Yamada’s broadcast, so let’s skip the suspense!”

The projection shifted to a fast-paced montage of Izuku in action: grabbing panicked students, redirecting debris with precise strikes, and finally slicing the 0-Pointer clean in half with a scythe that looked like it belonged in a post-apocalyptic anime.

“An impressive display of power, coordination, and terrifying disregard for property damage,” Nedzu said proudly. “Which is why you received eighty rescue points!”

“Nice!” Izuku whispered, fists clenched in excitement.

“However…” Nedzu’s voice dipped slightly. “Aizawa made a compelling case regarding your disregarding of collateral damage despite knowing better, so twenty points were docked. So your final rescue score is sixty points instead.”

Izuku groaned. “I knew he’d bring that up…”

“But even after the deduction, your final score is 123 points—placing you firmly at first in the entire exam! Congratulations, Izuku! This is your Hero Academia!” The projection gave a fond chuckle, before muttering, “Even if I know you’re really just here to do your job,” just as the image blinked out.

Silence fell over the room for a moment.

Then:

“HELL YEAH!” Izuku threw both arms in the air like he’d just won Olympic gold. “Number one, baby! We’re all getting in!”

“Somehow,” Hitoshi sighed deeply, “you’re both the most competent and the most exhausting person I know.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Izuku said brightly.

“I can’t wait for the caffeine crash to happen,” Hitoshi grumbled. “Maybe I’ll finally get some rest.”

“I don’t think it’s happening anytime soon. Not if he keeps drinking like that,” Shouto said, pointing to where Izuku was reaching for Hitoshi’s sacred thermos.

“IZU, NO!” Hitoshi jumped to stop.

“IZU, YES!” Izuku replied, jumping over Hitoshi and using his head as a springboard before perching on the top of the dresser at the corner of the room, somehow, without spilling a single drop of the coffee.

Shouto, meanwhile, just ignored the chaos as he grabbed his stylus back and started drawing his masterpiece once more.

-.-. .... .- --- ... / --. --- -... .-.. .. -.

Inside her office, Mittens elegantly sliced open the U.A. letter with one claw, her tail flicking lazily behind her. The letter, of course, was a mere formality. She had no doubts about the outcome. She was, after all, a genius—and a cat. The humans would have to be especially dense not to recognize such an obviously superior life form.

Frankly, she was mildly insulted it had taken this long to hear back. Bureaucracy: yet another inefficient human invention. But what could one expect from a species that needed written instructions to function.

As she unfolded the contents, a small metallic disk clinked onto her desk. Curious, she scanned it with her quirk, tail twitching with interest.

“Hmm... similar tech to the hologram projectors I built last Tuesday,” she mused. “Primitive, but not terrible.”