Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku is a difficult child.

This fact has been printed on every aspect of his life.

At home he causes worry and stress. He comes home with far too many injuries on all too many days. At what else would that point to if not a fighter, a violent child, for no one else could come home hurt that often and keep a smile on their face.

Midoriya Izuku causes trouble for his mom. Midoriya Izuku is trouble.

At school he causes chaos and disorder. He cheats on every assignment, this is evident through perfect scores on everything. No one can be that perfect and that broken, so he must be cheating. He causes fights everyday, all the time. He antagonizes the other kids; why else would everyone hate him?

Midoriya Izuku causes trouble for his classmates and teachers. Midoriya Izuku is trouble.

But worst of all, Midoriya Izuku never learns.

Everyday, all day the idea that ‘not all men were created equal’ is forced into his head. It’s carved in his heart every time he’s called ‘deku’, it’s burned into his skin with every punch, kick, and explosion. It’s hammered into his mind with every 0 in the grade book.

Not all men were created equal, no, because Midoriya Izuku is a cut below the rest.

But even with this idea, forced onto him day and night, Midoriya Izuku refuses to learn, to accept what everyone else knows to be true.

Midoriya Izuku refuses to believe them.

This is shown with every perfect test, with every piece of hero merch, with every scribble of analysis, with every notebook, with every smile. Midoriya Izuku refuses to accept that he cannot be a hero. And because of this, in the eyes of everyone around him, his teachers, his classmates, his mother, his ‘friends’, Midoriya Izuku is a difficult child.

However, to some, those with broken, boring lives. Who need something more, who need excitement, Midoriya Izuku is exactly what they need.

Chapter Text

Izuku didn’t think he was a genius, he wasn’t arrogant enough to claim extraordinary intelligence, but he knew he was smart. He knew this through claims of his cheating, through every 100% that would’ve been his if he only had a quirk, but most of all, he knew this through his analysis.  

He worshipped heroes so of course he had investigated every aspect of what it takes to be one, professional analysis specifically had caught his eye, and after some heavy research he had been able to find some. Small traces of the notes given to heroes about what they could and should be doing. Now don’t get him wrong Izuku didn’t look into this because it was interesting, no, he looked into this because it was bad.  

At first, he had assumed he simply found a bad sample, the work of some rookie that hadn't fully developed their skills, so he went in search of more. Having taken a few coding and hacking classes online to access more hero fights, this wasn’t hard. He was able to find some of the top-rated analysts and view their work. It was better, but it was... disappointing to say the least. 

The analyst had written good ideas on what to improve but had half- assed ideas on how to do it. And, they didn’t address half of the weaknesses the heroes actually need to work on. If this was the data being given back to the heroes to keep them safe, Izuku was majorly concerned for just how 'safe' the heroes were.

So, despite only being a third year in middle school, Izuku decided to provide his input. He started in basic hero forums, providing tips and tricks different pros should use and giving feedback to those already posting. It took just a few weeks for his analysis to get noticed. He was slowly added to more and more analysist circles, the name ‘Kyros’ growing in both popularity and reputation. So, it should’ve been no surprise to Izuku that he was soon contacted by some of the underground pro-heroes who wanted a more in-depth analysis rather than spread out advice. However, the hero who caught his eye the most was Eraserhead. He had been active as a pro for around 12 years now and had never accepted analysis before, let alone requested it. He claimed that no one would be able to get enough information about him to give him any feedback in the first place. And that would be true, for anyone but Kyros. But Izuku had his methods, so after sending the man 6 pages of in-depth analysis with not only suggestions for improvements but advice for changes in his costume and support gear as well, it’s safe to say the man was impressed.  

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Aizawa Shouta was used to being unknown and untouchable. Most people didn’t know him well enough to give feedback, and if they did know him they were usually to afraid to do so as well. But this new analyst, Kyros as he called himself, had him pegged. This new analyst had known more about how he operates than some of the partners he’s worked with for years. 

It was safe to say that Shouta was intrigued and more than impressed. There hadn’t been fluff in the report, but it was polite when pointing out shortcomings. Providing not only ways to improve weaknesses, but how to subtract them all together. It was safe to say that Kyros was the best analyst Shouta had come across. And it was this conclusion that drove him to continue contact with the analyst even after he had received his report. It was this conclusion that had drove Shouta to the biggest headache in his life. 

Shota was drawn out of his reminiscing by his phone buzzing. He wanted to groan, or roll his eyes, or both, 'speak of the devil' and all that. He opened his messages to find he had several missed texts from throughout the night.

Kyros  

So... if I potentially 1:23 

Hypothetically 1:25 

If I hacked into certain databases 1:32 

And acquired certain information 1:47 

Kyros has logged off 1:48 

Kyros has logged on 2:46 

How illegal is extortion 2:53 

Eraserhead has logged on 2:53 

Eraserhead  

2:54 Kyros…. 

2:55 No  

Kyros  

Shouta why are you awake 2:58 

It is a school night 2:48 

*checks watch* 2:59 

Correction 3:00 

It is a school morning 3:00 

You should be in bed 3:01 

( ੭ ꐦ •̀Д•́ ) ੭ *      3:03    ↓  

Eraserhead disliked a message  

Eraserhead  

  ↑      3:05   I regret meeting you more and more  

every time we talk  

Kyros liked a message  

Kyros  

໒( ᓀ ‸ ᓂ )७ 3:07 

FIRST of all 3:08 

You've never actually met me 3:09 

SECOND 3:10 

And everytime we touch I get this feeling 3:10 

Eraserhead logged off 3:10 

And everytime we kiss I swear I could fly 3:11 

WAIT 3:11 

NO PLEASE 3:11 

COME BACK 3:11 

˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚ 3:12 

Eraserhead logged on 3:13 

Eraserhead  

  3:14 Don’t leave?  

3:15 I thought I was supposed to be asleep  

  ↓    3:15 Change your mind already Kyros?  

Kyros  

How dare you use my own words against me 3:16 

You know what you’re right 3:17 

It’s sleep time for you now 3:17 

Get ready for.. 3:17 

Drumroll please.... 3:18    

Forced phone shut down 3:18 

Eraserhead  

3:19 I hate that you can do that  

Kyros  

Sweet dreams 3:20 

ଘ(੭*◕ฺω◕ฺ)੭ 3:21 

Eraserhead logged off  

Kyros logged off  

Here is the animation that plays on Aizawas phone before it shuts off.

It's terrible I'm sorry

Chapter Text

When Shouta woke up he looked at the clock and groaned, it was 6:43 and Kyros’ phone lock wouldn’t turn off until 7. He busied himself getting ready and grabbing a cup of the coffee that Hizashi had brewed for him, the blonde man having left 15 minutes prior. As soon as the clock struck 7 Shouta was immediately on his phone, being greeted with texts from the analyst.  

Kyros  

Good morning Shouta!! 6:03  

Why won’t you answer me? 6:05  

( Ĭ ^ Ĭ ) 6:05  

Oh wait….. 6:28  

Bwahahahah 6:29  

Lmao 6:31  

See you at 7 6:32  

Eraserhead logged on 7:00  

Eraserhead  

7:01 I swear one of these days I’m going to murder you  

7:02 I should just block your number  

Kyros  

You really should tbh 7:02  

Too bad it wouldn’t stick 7:03  

You spoke to me Shouta 7:03  

WITH A SINGLE OUNCE OF KINDNESS 7:04  

Now you’re stuck me forever 7:05  

The mistake lies with you and you alone 7:05  

Eraserhead  

7:06 I’m more and more concerned every time you  
speak 

Kyros  

 Honestly fair enough 7:07  

… 7:08  

WAIT 7:12  

AREN’T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE IN CLASS??? 7:12  

ARE YOU TEXTING IN CLASS??? 7:12  

SHAME ON YOU SHOUTA 7:13  

SHAME 7:13  

Eraserhead  

7:13 First of all!!  

7:13 I’m not in class  

7:14 I’m being late on purpose  

7:14 So I can test their situational awareness  

  7:15 Not at all to torture them  

7:16 ALSO (yeah bitch I can go all caps too)  

7:16 I don’t think you have a leg to stand on here  

7:17 Aren’t you usually inactive during this time as well  

7:17 ?  

Kyros  

OH SHIT!!! 7:17  

I FORGOT ABOUT THAT 7:18  

FUCK FUCK 7:18  

GOTTA GO 7:18  

(also congrats on your use of caps lock) 7:18  

Kyros logged off 7:18  

Eraserhead  

7:19 Watching you panic will never not be funny  

7:19 Lmao  

Eraserhead logged off 7:19  

_____________________________________________________________________________________  

Izuku slips in his classroom door, hoping that by some miracle that people won’t notice him. He should know by now that miracles aren’t for him. So of course, the second that one of his red shoes crosses the threshold, all eyes are on him. The sneers and insults of his classmates and the glare of his teacher are an immediate reaction to his presence alone. He tries to ignore it, like he always does.   

He gives some half-assed answer as to why he was late, it’s not like they care enough to verify, and slips into his desk, praying that the day can pass as quickly as the nights seem to.   

As soon as he slips into his seat, his mind is anywhere else. Rather than focusing on content he already knows Izuku spends class time dreaming about places other than here. He dreams of being back at home. Being behind a computer screen, alone and safe. He dreams of studying; of the praise he gets for his analysis. Izuku dreams of helping. Because that’s all he’s ever really wanted to do. It may be more indirect than being a hero, but his analysis helps save people, and that’s all he could hope for.  

The school day passes quickly; it always does, it’s always the same thing. He doesn’t get called on, doesn’t get talked to, there's the occasional insult or strike thrown his way but that’s nothing new. There’s never anything new. So, the day passes quickly, nothing to interest Izuku, until they mention high school of course.  

Kacchan wants to go to UA because of course he does, because he’s going to be the best, because he is the best. Izuku doesn’t want to go to UA, not anymore, but he knows that’s not what his sheet says. So, when his teacher talks of his plans he hunches down, hoping to make himself invisible.  

It doesn’t work.  

So, he gets explosions, scorch marks on his skin matching those on his paper. And he gets words. It’s not like he hadn’t been told to kill himself before, no that was more common than ‘hello’ to Izuku, but Kacchan had never gone that far. Still, Izuku shouldn’t have been surprised with the words he was left with. The ones still ringing throughout his mind.  

‘ if you really want to be a hero, pray for a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off of the roof’  

And Izuku would’ve thought about it. He might’ve considered, planned, he might’ve done it.   

But not now. Not when he was finally helping people. Not now that he was a hero. So, instead of dwelling on the words Izuku went outside, picked up his notebook and started walking home.  

He didn’t make It home.   

Luck was never on Izuku’s side so instead of making it home, he gets attacked. The sludge villain says something, Izuku is not there enough to hear it, not when there is slime coating his throat. He can feel his mind starting to slip when All Might shows up.   

He’s going to leave when Izuku makes a spit second decision to tag along. He has a question. Now, Izuku doesn’t want to be a traditional hero anymore, not when he’s so suited to analysis, but Izuku is spiteful. Kacchan looks up to All Might, so he could only imagine the satisfaction of Kachan's favorite hero telling him he could be a hero too. So, he asks.  

He shouldn’t have asked. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for the answer, he wasn’t ready to be left on a roof. But here he is, climbing down a fire escape and continuing on home. However, once again, he doesn’t make it home. He doesn’t make it far at all actually before his path is blocked by a villain fight. It takes him no time at all to take in the situation. The villain that had him, the boy the villain now has, and the heroes who were doing nothing. Now that he had time to look, Izuku found it easy enough to understand the situation. Easy enough to go for the eyes and give Kacchan a few breaths of air. Easy enough to inspire someone to do the rest. But it doesn’t matter that it was easy. And it sure as hell doesn’t matter that it worked. No, he got scolded all the same. And once again Izuku continued home.  

Chapter Text

“L-! -ft! I swear to fucking god Shota!! Turn left!!”  

“You little shit, It’s not my fault your mic is fucking older than All Might.” Izuku flinches at the name, for once grateful he isn’t really there with the heroes, while Shota continues. “I can’t fucking hear you over the screech of broken technology in my ear.”  

“It’s not my fault! Not all of us have had 15 years to gain savings as a pro hero. And it’s not that bad! Maybe the problem is your lack of hearing aids old man!”  

“I swear to god Kyros, I’m going to murder you one day. Thirty years old is not old. You can’t be that much younger than me.” Izuku plants his chin on his palm, staring into his grainy monitor at even grainer CCTV footage and cursing himself for being so transparent.   

It makes sense, though. It’s not like I have anyone else to talk to.   

“Go ahead and say whatever you want to make yourself feel better old man. But before you do that, TURN LEFT!”  

“Dear god okay, if I didn’t have hearing problems already I would just because of that.”  

The rhythm of pounding feet abruptly interrupts itself as the grey blob on Izuku’s screen swerves into an alley, scarf rising into the air as the hero prepares to intercept the villain.   

“Please, you’re married to the human version of a cockatoo and that man screams more than anyone else in the world.”  

A loud scuff, followed by only slightly muffled cursing echoes down the line.   

“I- how the fuck do you know about Zashi!?”  

“... do I really need to answer that?”  

“Right, hacking. Why was this information you considered important enough to look for.”  

“I was bored and curious. Your wedding photos are cute by the way.”  

“I regret asking. Go die in a hole, fuckwad.”  

Fabric rustles against the mic, muffling the audio as Shota talks to someone off the comms before he again speaks to Kyros.  

“Alright, I got the perp in custody. Thanks for your help or whatever.”  

Izuku’s smile is wide enough to nearly knock the scavenged Bluetooth earpiece out of his ear, his cheek pressing against the old-fashioned wire mic.   

“Anytime! Good night, Shota.”  

“Whatever.”  

Shota curses to himself as he hangs up. If he thinks about it logically, he knows that the only reason Kyros was able to get his wedding photos was because he was somehow on Nezu’s level of hacking, however, the fear still hangs over his head. Shota’s wedding photos are the only ones in which he wears a genuine smile. This. Could. Ruin. Him. 

The click as Shota turns off his own comm reminds Izuku of the click of a 20 th -century phone being set back down on its stand, and it bounces around his carpeted bedroom and bare walls, the sound echoing. Izuku, realizing sleep was not going to be kind to him tonight decides to work on a pleasure project of his before going to bed, and he sits a little straighter as his fingers hit the keyboard.

***********  

Lightning flashes through pane glass windows, illuminating the silhouette of the UA principal. Text skitters over his screen, the username Zeus blinking at the top. He smiles into his teacup as his soon-to-be-protégé claws his way through UA’s firewalls and security, hacking away at Nezu’s careful code.   

The text stops. Zeus finally made it to the camera feed. Nezu set his teacup down on its saucer and slowly drew his gaze to meet the hidden camera in the wall directly over his monitor. He smiled widely, lips drawing back around sharp teeth. Thunder clapped, lightning jumping behind him once more.   

“I hope I’ll see you for tea tomorrow, Kyros .”  

Across the city, in a dingy apartment in Musutafu, Izuku Midoriya unplugged his monitor and double-checked the locks on his windows before bed.   

Chapter Text

“-stupid blonde bimbo bitch, matted ass bunny haired jackass, greatest hero in history my left foot- “  

“Kyros?! Could you maybe find someone else to bitch about your goddamn girl problems to?!”  

Izuku froze. He looked down at his mic, thrashed and practically prehistoric, with its ON light most certainly not lit. Through his earpiece he could still hear Eraserhead fighting yet another All Might fanatic, who was still ranting about how perfect his personal hero was.   

“You could hear that?”  

“Yeah,” Eraserhead grunted, the shick of his scarf tightening echoing down the line. “Should I not have?”  

“I thought my mic as off.”  

A pause, and then-   

“You have a physical microphone?”  

Izuku sneered down at his screen. Who the hell does this guy think he is, judging his setup?! Especially when he walks around wearing Walmart-brand joggers (yeah, Walmart, shipped express from the United States of America specifically for how unbelievably bland they are).   

“I’m gonna tell your husband you shared the bento he packed for you with a stray cat-“  

“You wouldn’t -“  

Static made them both flinch before pounding feet caught up to Shota, tackling him to the ground over the prone form of the captured villain.   

From his apartment, Izuku thought he could feel the vibrations of Present Mic’s shouts, even outside of the demonic screech from his Bluetooth earpiece that he’d thrown down onto the carpet. He grinned at his computer, Mic’s wild hairstyle wagging like a dog’s tail where he was fretting over his husband. Izuku reached down to pick up his earpiece and was able to clearly hear the blond even holding it a foot away from his face.   

“- for two days?! TWO?!”   

Shota groaned in pain underneath Hizashi, activating his quirk and struggling to heave the man off his chest.   

Izuku carefully reinserted his earpiece just long enough to raise his microphone and ask, “What, Shota, have you been leaving your husband cold and lonely?”  

Shota snarled at the street camera he knew Kyros was watching him through, hissing like a cat.   

“Two days is hardly a long time you wretch.”   

“It is for going without eating!” Mic screeched. “I make you lunches, I make you dinners, and you what? Sleep in parks and live off of canned coffee?!”   

Izuku grinned, but swallowed his comments for once; he hadn’t eaten for at least a day and a half, and wasn’t too keen on being snitched on to Shota’s husband. He watched the couple bicker for several minutes, tracking the progress of the police out of the corner of his eye on his other screen.    

“Alrighty lovebird, as much as I’d love to watch you get your ass beat by your husband the police will be arriving in a few minutes. So unless you want Naomasa to learn that you have a heart, small and shriveled as it is, I suggest you wrap up your lovers’ quarrel soon.”  

Izuku watched in uncontained amusement when Shota stiffens at the reminder that they are not as unseen as he would like. He also coughs as poorly disguised cover up for a laugh when the man glares at the closest camera.  

“It is not-” Shota starts before pausing to quiet his voice, “It is not a lovers’ quarrel.” he hisses out after a moment, his voice startling his husband who looks around quickly.   

“Who are you talking too?” Hizashi questions, earning an annoyed groan in response.  

“A pest, a nuisance,” Shota starts ignoring the offended ‘hey’ from the other end of the mic, “A pain in my ass, a burden.”  

“Shota, my love, as much as I love you hating everything ever, I need a bit more to go on.”  

Shota looks from his husband to the camera above him (that Kyros is no doubt watching from), before looking back at Hizashi as if debating something. This silence stretches on for a few more seconds before Shota decides to just shove his earpiece at Hizashi, not having energy to explain himself.  

The blond stuck it in his ear dutifully, expecting the static of a police radio.   

“Present Mic?! I’m such a huge fan! It’s so great to meet you!” says a tiny voice from the other side. Hizashi smiled in confusion, but before he could respond, the voice came again- “I’ve been working with Eraserhead for a few months now, helping him with tips and surveillance! You two work together a lot, right? Are you two friends? Do you train together?!”   

Hizashi’s smile grew. This informant was one Shota obviously trusted, and Hizashi knew how important that was. Shota was turned, checking and re-checking the binds on the villain at his feet. He glanced at his husband before carefully shadowing the earpiece with his hand and whispering, “Actually, we’re more than friends.”  

Izuku gasped slightly. “ Really? ”  

Hizashi, delighted to finally find somebody who he could brag about his husband to, reached into his pocket for his wallet. “Yep. You’re watching through the street cameras, right?”  

Izuku couldn’t bring himself to respond. On his screen, Yamada Hizashi pulled a slip of paper from his wallet and, unfolding it, snuck up towards the camera to show it in all its glory: a creased polaroid of teenage Shota Aizawa, wearing a facemask, holding a half-empty glass of wine, sprawled over a young Hizashi’s lap.   

“We’re married ,” Hizashi said conspiratorially, “and we’ve been dating since we went to UA.” Izuku took screenshot after screenshot of the image of Hizashi holding an old picture of his husband up to a street camera with the unsuspecting man hunched in the background. His face hurt with how hard he was holding in his laughter.   

On his second monitor, he pulled up his mailing application, secure and impossible to trace.   

Kyros  

ineffablehusbands.png 7:24  

you have to talk to hizashi about his secrecy 7:24  

i love this but dear fucking god 7:25  

Rat God  

  7:26 He is not known for his discretion, I’m afraid.  

7:27 I will, however, be keeping that picture.  

Izuku sat staring at his screen. At his emails to and from Nezu. The Educator Hero. The principal of UA high school. His stomach tightened for a moment, so he quickly closed the tab and returned his attention to where Shota was wrestling Hizashi’s wallet out of his hands to shred the polaroid, finally working the paper free and raising it in triumph just as the squad car pulled up.   

Izuku smirked and cleared his tabs. Two clicks brought up a bookmarked site: UA high school. He checked again, his nightly routine for the past year, and nearly fell out of his chair when he saw it. The date for the entrance exam had finally been announced, three months from now. He stared. He didn’t want to apply for the hero course, not now, but he had an idea. A stupid idea. A really, fantastically stupid idea.   

But hey, what else is Kyros known for?   

Chapter Text

“It’s a little early for you to be active, Kyros,” Shota mumbled. He was hunched over a desk under the watchful eye of Naomasa Tsukauchi, filling out paperwork for his latest arrest. It had been uncharacteristically messy; he’d found children at the residence of several known villains and ended up getting dragged into a three-on-one fight for nearly half an hour before the police showed up. He hadn’t taken his earpiece out, hoping, praying for Kyros to give him a tip for a mission or perp big enough to save him from this deskwork. No such luck so far; Kyros seemed very content with mocking his posture.   

“I guess,” was the evasive answer.   

Shota frowned and glanced around again. He knew where the station’s cameras were, but he also knew they were exceptionally well-encrypted. Kyros, even as talented as he was, shouldn’t have been able to hack them, so he was certain the analyst must’ve managed to hide a personal camera somewhere nearby.   

Izuku watched through his feed with mounting excitement as Shota suddenly straightened just a bit more than he had already, eyes locking on to the tiny pinhole in the wall across from him. He stood and stormed over, startling the officers around him as he leaned in close and confirmed his own suspicions: a hidden camera. He reeled back and, with a smug expression Izuku thankfully managed to record and which he would most certainly be sending to Hizashi, slammed his fist through the drywall just to the left of the device.   

Shota reached around and yanked the tiny spy cam from where it was adhered to the inside of the wall and held it up to inspect it.   

He turned it over in his hands, a box about two inches each side, when the seams suddenly split apart with a musical chime and he was doused in hot pink glitter.  

Everyone in the police station froze, knowing well enough the temper Eraserhead could get, and they waited for a reaction. What they were not expecting however, was an amused huff to leave the man as he shook some of the glitter out of his hair.   

The officers watched the man's laid-back response in horrified shock as he went back over to the desk and sat down before muttering softly in his mic.  

“Your death will not be quick,” Shota grumbled, already hearing the cackling laughter of Kyros on the other end.   

“Oh, god! That was priceless! Comedy gold, really Shota, thank you for that!” Izuku crowed, pausing for laughter frequently. He continued laughing, much to Shota’s irritation, for a few more minutes before composing himself. “Really Eraser, you should’ve expected it at this point. Also, I’m a little disappointed you tried to steal my camera. It’s not like I was going to do anything malicious with the footage.”   

Izuku huffed, feigning offence as he finished. Conveniently ignoring the fact that he still has many more cameras all over the station, the newly destroyed model not even being the one he was currently watching through.  

“Sure, I can give it to you that it won’t be anything malicious. But malignant? I wouldn't put that past you.”  

“Why Shota, I am surprised at you! I would ne-”  

“I’m covered in glitter Kyros.” Shota deadpanned, cutting him off. “I’m cover in hot pink glitter.”  

“Maybe you should’ve kept your hands to yourself then. Next time don’t try to take out my camera.”  

Izuku stifled a laugh as Shota dropped his head onto his desk in frustration. He was quick to disguise it though as to not give away his continued observations of the police precinct.  

“Alright Shota, I’ll leave you to your paperwork” Izuku starts chuckling at the mournful ‘don’t remind me’ from the man. “And I will see you tonight.”  

“Ugh,” Shota groans, sitting up. “See you tonight, Kyros.” He reached to turn off his earpiece, pointedly ignoring the singsong ‘no you won’t’ from the hacker as he turned himself back to the work in front of him.  

*****  

As Izuku hung up on Aizawa his smile dropped, and he got to work. A different screen was immediately pulled up on his computer, Izuku giving it his undivided attention. His eyes wandered the screen in front of him and he started to analyze, letting out a few curses as he took in the information.   

His fingers moved like lightning over the keys, and Izuku continued to work for hours, only ever pausing to carefully consider his next move. Eventually, Izuku felt that no matter how hard or how long he worked he would never get any closer to solving this. So, after hours of work, anger and frustration, he stopped typing. Izuku took a deep breath and leaned back to truly look at his screen. Still upset at what he saw.  

     -- □ X  

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CHESS!  

YOU LOST!  

Game:836  

Mistakes: 3  

Blunders: 0  

War Crimes: 17  

Moves so Heinous They’d Qualify You For Euthanasia: 6  

Times We Wondered How Someone Hasn’t Killed You Yet: 9  

Number Of Games You Have Left: 0  

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﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉  

Izuku dropped his head into his hands and let out a pained whine. He’d never be able to beat Nezu at this rate. This was the 5 th chess site he’d been removed from for how bad his games were and how many he played in a row. So, he wasn’t necessarily surprised to learn he couldn’t play another game here, he was surprised at just how harsh Chess.com was being. As far as Izuku was counting he’d only committed 13 war crimes.   

Izuku decided that the mental abuse he’d faced from the multitude of chess games had been enough for one night. And it was this thought that convinced him to shut down his computer and try to get some sleep that wasn’t plagued by knights and rooks.  

Chapter Text

“Checkmate, Kyros-kun.” 

Izuku dropped his head onto the table with a thunk . Eighteen games of chess, nine rounds of Speed (the card game , not the street drug), and a disturbingly intense bout of Bop-It later, Izuku had a clean record of 28 consecutive losses. Across from him, Nezu sipped his tea with a smile.  

Both geniuses sat regarding the board for a long moment before Izuku rose into a stretch.  

“So can we talk now?” 

“I said last time we met for tea, I’ll answer your questions when you win.” 

Izuku stretched further, bending like a cat over the back of his chair with a groan. “But I can’t win.” 

“Then I don’t feel the need to answer your questions.” 

Izuku sank back down in his chair and sprawled across it. Nezu was a genius, and Izuku hated chess anyway. The guy wasn’t just a master of the game. It almost felt like he’d made the rules himself! 

Izuku’s eyes caught on the card deck they’d set aside. If only he could make his own rules.  

His own rules.  

Huh.  

He sat up suddenly, eyes still locked on the card deck.  

“Have you ever played Mao?” 

Nezu’s intrigued grin told him all he needed to know.  

***** 

Across the table from Izuku, Nezu struggled to hold his 48-card hand (he’d counted). Izuku held only one card but had carefully avoided ending this round for the past five turns. Nezu carefully laid down the seven of hearts. Izuku carefully watched the rodent’s paws. When he noticed his opponent didn’t fan himself for playing a heart-suit card (the rule he’d added for winning the eighth round), he smiled sweetly and slid the meager remaining deck forward.  

“You missed a rule, Sensei. You have to draw.”  

Nezu sat staring for a long moment at the two-card pile he was to draw from.  

“Don’t tell me you want to forfeit , Sensei.” 

The rodent remained staring blankly at the pile.  

Silence reigned for several seconds before Nezu dropped his hand of cards and sat back, slowly reaching for his teacup as the laminated squares scattered onto the floor.  

“So,” Izuku said cheerily, “about the entrance exams. I have a… friend who’ll be applying, and I have a little request for you to make him blow a fuse.” 

As the two sat talking, Nezu slowly coming back to himself after the shock of losing, the clock seemed to take on a mind of its own. At nearly 6 o’clock, Izuku finally glanced up and nearly choked on his tongue when he noticed. He leapt up, teacup clattering as Nezu waited expectantly.  

“I- I’m so sorry, sir, I have to get home! My mom’s never home and we’re having dinner tonight, I’m really already late, I-“ 

Nezu waved a paw to silence him. He smiled patiently at the boy. “Of course, Izuku-kun. Why don’t I walk you to the gate?” 

Izuku nodded as he threw his laptop and charger into his ancient backpack, so worn the canvas was nearly transparent in certain places and reduced to ashes in others. The two set off, Nezu comfortably settled on the hacker’s shoulder as they left. Nezu, as small as he was, was incredibly light, and when Izuku felt the principal’s weight leave his shoulder, he flung his hand out in a wave and set off at a run without turning back. The backpack bounced against him with every jolting step, even as he picked up speed, skidding around corners and bounding through alleys. Izuku may not be the strongest, but he had a lifetime of bullying and shitty neighborhoods behind him that could attest for how unbelievably fast he could be. He crossed the city in ten minutes flat, red-faced and panting by the time he finally mounted the stairs to his apartment and dug into his pocket for his key.  

He sighed, realizing it was in his backpack, when he saw it jangling, apparently midair, in his periphery. He assumed it was his mom’s quirk, never mind she had no way of knowing he was home and took it with a mumbled “thanks”.  

He dropped his backpack to the ground when he finally got the door open, peeling off his shoes. He made it all of two steps into the foyer when he heard rustling behind him. He turned in horror, his mother poking her head around the corner just in time to witness the principal of UA high school clamber out of his grimy backpack, still holding a miraculously unspilled teacup.  

“Well hello there, Ms. Midoriya! What a pleasure to finally meet you!” 

Inko, to her credit, only paused for a moment before returning his smile and beckoning them both into the dining room. Izuku followed her into the kitchen, hefting a few dishes to lay out on the table. Nezu took the liberty of climbing up onto their kitchen counter, asking Inko if he could possibly borrow one of their couch cushions so he could sit and see over the table at the same time.  

Once they were all settled, their plates dished and compliments afforded for the delicious food, Inko finally addressed Nezu properly.  

“So,” she said with all the honey of a mother about to say something unbelievably embarrassing, “you must be that rat my son plays his little videogames with.”  

Izuku dropped his head into his hands as Nezu began to cackle, narrowly avoiding spilling his tea on the table in front of him.

Chapter Text

Izuku could hear laughter still filtering into his room from where his mother and Nezu were still chatting over tea and he let out another heavy sigh into his mic, hearing the responding groan from Shouta.  

“Alright Kyros, spit it out, why have you been so mopey tonight?”  

“If you were to describe Nezu, would charming be an adjective you’d think of?”  

Shouta stiffened on his park bench at the mention of Nezu and then further tensed at the implication that not only did Kyros know Nezu, but he was also familiar enough to forgo any honorific. He swallowed thickly, attempting to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut before responding.   

“No, I wouldn’t-” Shouta paused before continuing, still trying to wrap his head around this conversation, “Charming isn’t how I would describe Nezu, why do you ask? When did you meet Nezu? Why are you equating Nezu to charming?” Aizawa had tried to answer the question and not take the idea too much further but before he knew it a multitude of rapid-fire questions were exiting his mouth as he attempted to process the bizarre topic.  

“I think he’s flirting with my mom.” Izuku spit out the words as if they were burning him before banging his head against the desk in front of him. He could still hear pleasant conversation drift out from the living room and Izuku wanted nothing more than to kick the principal out of his house, but as much as he hated to admit it, he already considered Nezu a friend at the very least. And no matter how heinous the cause, it was nice to hear his mother laugh.  

In the background of Izuku’s thoughts Shouta could be heard choking in surprise.  

“NEZU? You mean Nezu? Principal of UA Nezu? Dog, bear or mouse Nezu? That Nezu? Is flirting with YOUR MOTHER?” Shouta spluttered out the questions, each one sounding more pained than the last as he gained volume.  

“I KNOW RIGHT??” Izuku groaned in response, “I mean I tried to reason through it because like they’re both laughing and they sound happy but like.. It's Nezu. AND MY MOM!”   

Kyros sounded so distressed and disturbed by this idea Shouta was genuinely worried the hacker would start crying. Not that Shouta was faring much better the man just kept repeating some variation of the phrase ‘Nezu was flirting?’  

It took a few more minutes of distress before either Izuku or Shouta were able to shake off their unease enough to change topics.  

“Moving on from that awful idea that you just brought to me about Nezu.” Shouta started, jolting Izuku out of his self-pitying spiral, “Why have you been active during the day now? I’ve been curious about that since the police station.”  

Izuku froze. He had some excuses curated for this very scenario but as he sits at his desk now, put on the spot, none of them seem to fit well enough. His mind was working fast to come up with a response that wouldn’t give him up when he got a stupid idea.  

“I- Shouta I’ll tell you, but I want- no I need you, to promise you won’t use this information to try to find me.”  

Izuku saw Aizawa sit up, his back as straight as possible as he realized how important this information could be. His face looked so serious that Izuku almost felt bad for messing with him... almost.   

He watched in amusement as Shouta gave a quick nod, correctly assuming that Izuku had eyes on him through various cameras.   

“Okay,” Izuku started, scrambling for a pen and sticky note to make sure he wouldn’t contradict himself later. He remembered the weeks where his mother had searched tirelessly for a new school for him, dredging up the name of a tiny public middle school way out in the Tottori prefecture.   

“I’m a teacher. Now that it’s summer I have more time to be active.”  

Aizawa remained stock still on Izuku’s monitor, mouth moving without forming any real words. Out of the corner of the camera’s periphery, Izuku could see a shady-looking character watching the man closely as he scribbled down the name Sakaiminato Municipal Daini Junior High School .   

As the silence stretched on, Izuku leaned into his mic and said, “Eraserhead, unless you’re looking to get offered a hit of whatever that guy’s peddling, I suggest you stop acting like a tweaker.”   

Aizawa glanced over at the man, already having clocked him some time earlier, and realized he was being sized up as a potential client. He threw back the rest of his canned coffee (the man really hates himself, doesn’t he?) and stood, burying one hand in his scarf as he made his way into a dim alley, scaling the walls with ease.   

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Izuku.” 

“Good morning, Nez-” Izuku froze halfway out his bedroom door. He turned slowly, painfully. Standing in front of his mother’s bedroom door, wearing a silky robe, stood Principal Nezu. They regarded each other for a moment before Izuku decided he was clearly still asleep. They converged in the kitchen, where Hallucination-Nezu began brewing a pot of tea while Izuku began preparing a pot of miso soup and rolled omelets.  

Nezu leaned over, stirring the soup pot while Izuku prepared the omelets. Izuku automatically shifted to give the stoat more space, brushing the hot pan with his thumb and wincing at the burn.  

He froze.  

Nope. 

Not dreaming.  

Not asleep.  

He looked at Nezu again, still in a silk robe and (apparently) nothing else.  

They finished breakfast in silence. They sat down at the table, his mother’s chair still empty. He finished his omelet and, concerned that she still hadn’t come out to eat, began to stand to go check on her.  

“No need for that, Izuku. Inko-san left for work at around five this morning. Unfortunate, really; we stayed up so late, I was hoping she’d be able to sleep in.”  

Izuku sat back down heavily, eyes firmly trained on his empty plate.  

Did Nezu and Mom…?  

The thought was too awful, too unbelievable to entertain. Of course they didn’t.  

“Izuku, your mother and I have come to an agreement; I must say she was very persuasive . I will be handling your education personally from now on, and I’ll be meeting you both regularly throughout the week.” 

The thrill of having the most intelligent creature on the planet volunteer as his private tutor was dampened by the innuendo ( Nezu made an innuendo?!) he was just subjected to in his own home.  

Izuku stared down at his plate in silence for a few more minutes before quietly but quickly putting away the dishes and returning to his room.  

Once his door was shut Izuku took a moment to collect himself before running to his computer. He opened his comms, tapped into Aizawa’s feed, and immediately brought the microphone far too close to his mouth.  

“Shouta.” 

In his own home, standing at his kitchen counter, Aizawa paused mid-step and nearly spilled steaming coffee all over himself. Kyros sounded agitated. He glanced up, confusion bleeding over his features.  

“Kyros?” 

The voice came again, equally as quiet- “So, about your mom-” 

Shouta frowned as he set his mug down, cautiously approaching his mug cabinet and opening it slowly. This time, the hacker’s voice was much louder.  

“Shouta, there’s no point looking, but you should probably leave that open if you want to hear me.” 

Aizawa stood staring at the wooden cabinet for a long moment before beginning to methodically remove every mug and cup from inside, arranging them in neat rows on the countertop.  

“Well it’s not like I can stop you. Anway, you like your mom, right? I know you and Hizashi go see her for the holidays; she seems like a sweet lady. Anyway, did she ever have any… partners ?” 

Shouta Aizawa stood in his kitchen, surrounded by his and his husband’s extensive mug collection, staring into an unblemished wooden cabinet that was asking him about his mother’s sexual escapades.  

“No, Kyros. As far as I’m aware, my mother never had any partners .”  

“But what if she had?” 

“What if, Kyros?” 

“Would you… talk to him? Call him dad?” 

“Kyros, please tell me you aren’t asking advice on how to talk to your stepfather.” 

“Well I don’t know if Nezu can legally marry my mom since he’s classified as an animal but-” 

Shouta Aizawa shut the cabinet. An hour later, Hizashi rolled out of bed to find his husband sat on their kitchen island sipping coffee from five apparently fresh mugs, the rest of their cups scattered around the room. The man stared intently at their mug cabinet.  

“Hizashi, did you ever think of Nezu as your father while you lived at UA?” 

“No, Shouta, I did not.” 

“But you were his ward.” 

“Yes?” 

“I think you have a brother.” 

Hizashi stared blankly.  

“Please tell me Nezu doesn’t have a kid.” 

Aizawa sipped his coffee, setting the mug down to pick up a different one and take a drink from it as well. He nodded meaningfully at the mug cabinet.  

“I think we have a rat problem.”  

From behind the wood, a cheery, muffled voice issued; “Good morning, Present Mic!” 

Chapter Text

It had been months in the making; months of increasingly ridiculous “family” dinners, months of mountingly absurd pranks on poor Aizawa, months of plotting and scheming with Nez- Dad , who took endless joy in forwarding the audio file of Aizawa’s near-total breakdown upon realizing who exactly Izuku had been talking about when he confided that his dad kept flirting with his mom in public to every hero he knew. Now, finally, the day had come: the UA entrance exam. Izuku was practically guaranteed to get in; he was smart enough to ace the written exam and get in with that score alone, and even if he turned in a blank test, Nezu would be happy to take Izuku on as a personal, unofficial student, who would have the freedom and independence to terrorize UA’s staff and students to his heart’s content.   

Izuku arrived early, Nezu tucked away in his rocket-shaped backpack, waving serenely out of the plexiglass porthole where he sat sipping Jasmine tea. Ectoplasm and Cementoss, who stood just inside the front doors directing students, stopped to stare at the picture they made; a pale, freckle- and scar-covered teen who looked far too young to be applying for high school (as much as he loved his mom, he cursed her height every day) with their esteemed principal and boss in his backpack.  

Nezu raised his tea in a toast to a frozen Ectoplasm, and Cementoss had to turn away to hide his laughter. Izuku paused only a moment to duck into a janitor’s closet, letting Nezu out into the vents and replacing him with a life-sized, hand-sewn Nezu plush, courtesy of his mother.   

Izuku sat through Present Mic’s lecture on the nature of the physical exam, chin resting on his fist and trying not to mumble. Beside him, Bakugou Katsuki sat grumbling, setting off crackling sparks in anticipation. When the caricature of a high school class president stood up and tried to correct pro hero, full-time radio presenter, public speaker, and long-time teacher Yamada Hizashi on his own presentation, before trying to reprimand Katsuki on his “delinquent behavior”, Izuku smiled into his hand and got a finger jabbed into his ribs for it.  

So that’s the next Ingenium. I hope his family has a good PR team; he seems like a bitch.   

When he found out he was stuck with the tightass himself for his physical, he said as much to the other boy’s face.   

“Woah, I’ve never seen someone turn that color before!”  

Izuku turned to regard the round-faced girl who’d helped him earlier. Ochako Uraraka, a girl with an anti-gravity quirk and a friendly disposition. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, bouncing on the balls of her feet and ignoring the spluttering of Iida Tenya beside them.   

“I don’t know if I thanked you already, but that was kind of you earlier, catching my plushie.”   

Uraraka nodded, pressing her fingertips together. “No problem! It sure was cute; it would be a shame to get it dirty.”   

He nodded sagely. “Right, and my dad would probably be upset if I’d brought it home like that.”  

She looked at him curiously at that. “Was it a gift?”  

“From my mom, yeah, but it looks just like him.” He ignored the way her eyebrows jumped and began making his way up to the gate to stand next to Present Mic, who had a circle of space around himself where no examinee was brave enough to enter. He sidled up behind the hero and leaned as close as he dared to the man’s ear.   

“Hey there, Hizashi,” Izuku mumbled. The voice hero whirled around, mid-inhale and releasing a crackle from his speaker that Izuku recognized as a warning before his quirk went off. He leapt back, raising his hands placatingly and waited for Hizashi to calm down enough to realize he wasn’t a threat. The man caught his breath, frowning down at Izuku as best he could while fighting a smile.   

“How do you know my name?”  

Izuku smiled sweetly, twisting his hands behind his back. “My dad knows you pretty well; he said I could call you by your first name if you said you were okay with it.”  

Hizashi raised his eyebrows. “And who is your father?”  

Izuku opened his mouth, but before he could say it, the bell rang out to signal the start of the test, startling the hero and allowing Izuku to slip into the throng of students with an apologetic smile. He jogged alongside his competitors, but soon struck out through a thin back alley to make his way to a further corner of the faux city. On his way, without slowing, he kicked the reinforced toe of his shoe against a sewer grate and tore the flimsy metal, catching the jagged piece he sent flying as he passed.   

In the viewing room, Nezu carefully drew his eyes over each screen, resisting the urge to watch in rapt delight as Izuku set their plan into motion. Their plan. The boy was one of the few analysts that could plot with Nezu on equal intellectual footing, and the stoat delighted in it.   

Beside him, he felt the moment Power Loader realized what Izuku was planning as the boy dropped from a fire escape down onto a lone three-pointer and immediately slammed his makeshift prybar into the neck joint. The hero leaned forward as the other teachers noticed as well, and they all stared in horror as the frail-looking boy stuck his thin arm as far as he could into the moving, electrified insides of the robot. He bent awkwardly, still straddling the thing’s shoulders as he felt around blindly before breaking out into a grin and withdrawing his arm.   

The robot beneath him slowed to a standstill.   

Nemuri leaned into Power Loader, eyes still glued to the screen. “What was that? What did he do to it, Higari?”  

Izuku yanked the metal scrap out from its neck and, raising his arm above his head, swung it down to give it a good, hard whack on the side of its head.   

The robot jumped to life, straightening and letting its arms fall to its sides.   

“Oh no.” All eyes turned to Power Loader for a split second, just long enough to register the horror on his face before an unholy screech echoed faintly around them. On the screen, students in every testing arena clutched their ears and looked around in fear.   

Izuku threw his head back and began to laugh as his pet robot raised its arms and took off, speeding towards the center of the city where most of the students were still fighting for points.   

Cementoss stood, arms crossed, staring blankly at the green-haired boy approaching his peers on his chariot of chaos. “The emergency removal switch,” he said. Aizawa glanced over at his coworker.   

“In case there were to be a serious malfunction, or one of the robots stops responding to recall orders and tries to seriously injure an examinee,” Higari explained. “It’s going to start attacking the other robots with the intent to destroy.”   

Nezu shifted excitedly in his seat as Izuku burst into the fray, shouting at the other students to run for cover as his steed swung its arms wildly and mowed down its kin. His boy really had a talent for making an entrance.   

In a testing arena on the opposite side of the UA grounds, Bakugo Katsuki stumbled, foot catching on a chunk of concrete and sending his explosive punch careening into a wall instead of the 3-pointer he’d been aiming for. From behind him, an unbelievably loud squeal echoed, like a pitched, drawn-out version of the faint beeps the robots had been making as they locked onto the students. Around him, several of the robots jerked oddly before returning to their opponents. He frowned, even as he turned back to his own target.   

Katsuki had a bad feeling that something big was coming.   

Chapter Text

Inko glanced over at the mop of green curls peeking over the back of their couch from where she was molding onigiri. Izuku had come home streaked in grease, sweating through his t-shirt (this one said FLANNEL across the chest) and clutching his Nezu plushie in both arms. Behind her, Nezu stood on the counter in his custom house-slippers, stirring a pot of salmon belly miso soup. He’d arrived just a few minutes ago, and by silent agreement, none of them had brought up the exam.  

Yet.   

Izuku, slumped into the couch cushions, is staring at his burner phone, grinning in amusement. He hadn’t been bothering Shouta nearly as much as he had previously; in fact, he’d practically been radio silent for the past week as he prepared for the entrance exam.   

Kyros  

So how was the exam?? :] 6:31  

In the teachers’ lounge of UA, Eraserhead, respected underground hero and infamously strict teacher, fumbled as he tried to pull out the phone he uses for hero work, dropping it with a clatter and stopping to stare down at the device as it played the awful, tinny All Might ringtone.   

“I AM HERE! To give you a MESSAGE! I AM HERE! To give you a MESSAGE! I AM HERE! To give you a MESSAGE! I AM HERE! To give y-”  

Ectoplasm, Power Loader, Cementoss, and Recovery Girl looked on as Shouta stooped to snatch up the phone and read the text. He frowned, lowered the phone and took a step towards his desk, then stopped and read the text again before dropping himself into his chair and typing out a (seemingly very long) reply.   

Eraserhead  

6:34 Where have you been?? Kyros it’s been days since you’ve messaged me, you haven’t been silent for this long since you became active. Are you injured? Were you caught??  

6:39 Kyros????  

Kyros

hemustbestopped.jpeg 6:42  

Do you see this, Shouta? 6:43  

I’ve had a very long day 6:43  

Do you see this? 6:44  

It was an image of Nezu. Principal of UA Nezu, most fearsome intelligence hero on the planet Nezu, Shouta’s boss Nezu, seated at a wooden dinner table with his paw on an effeminate hand, the owner of which remained just out of frame. He was smiling, sincerely smiling, and holding a small soup bowl.   

On his paw, around one of his digits, was a thin silver ring, an identical style to a smaller one on the human hand.   

Shouta tried to save the image and was unsurprised when his phone shut down instead. He dropped his head onto his crossed arms and groaned aloud, heedless of the concerned looks his colleagues were throwing him.   

 ------

Across the table from Izuku, Nezu pulled the ring off his paw and set it back down next to his plate. Inko smiled and did the same, though when she set her hand back down, Nezu replaced his paw on top of it.   

Izuku mimed retching into his hands.   

They ate quietly, trading serving dishes as both Izuku and Nezu complimented Inko’s cooking. The soup was finished, then the rice, the onigiri cooling on the counter to be parsed out for lunch and snacks the next day.   

They were the image of a perfect, domestic family.   

“So, Izuku, where exactly did you get these rings?”   

Izuku glanced at his mother over the rim of his glass.   

“I made a friend.”   

“A friend?”  

Izuku nodded. “I named him Tantan and he was my noble steed until he died a fiery death on the battlefield. He left behind merely scrap metal, but I managed to snag some pipe fittings that looked pretty nice.”   

Inko and Nezu shared a look, and Nezu patted her hand consolingly in a silent I’ll tell you later . Izuku had been pulling these little stunts for weeks, ever since Inko added their fake anniversary to the calendar.

Nezu found it absolutely hilarious, and after dinner he made the “mistake” of adding it to his own calendar.  

His. Shared. UA. Staff. Calendar.  

--

In opposite ends of UA high school, Eraserhead and Ectoplasm received identical notifications on their work phones: New event added by Rat God: Anniversary ©  

Shouta set his phone down and swung out of his classroom’s window as his coworker’s shriek echoed down the corridor, a door slamming from the other direction where one of the man’s clones was having its own visceral reaction.   

It had been a long day for Shouta. The entrance exam was an absolute mess; the student that had tamed his own robot and decimated the competition had slipped away while Chiyo had been making her rounds, and since he didn’t technically violate any rules, Shouta had no good reason to contact him or request his information. He hadn’t even gotten the kid’s name; Nezu claimed there was an issue with their facial recognition software, something to do with the way the kid had been moving the entire time, but Shouta didn’t buy it for a second.   

He had a feeling, though, that this student was going to be a serious pain in his ass. And it was as that thought crossed his mind that his phone rang.   

Perfect timing , Shouta thought as he swung himself onto a roof; he had some choice words for the primary pain in his ass.  

He silenced the looped recording of Renai Circulation and held the phone up to his ear only to nearly drop it as a modulated voice screeched so loudly it made his ears ring.   

“SHOUTA! SHOUTASHOUTASHOUTA!”  

Shouta held the phone away from his head and grimaced. On his screen is an image of a white stoat poking its head out of a snowbank. He frowned at it before cautiously returning the device to his ear.   

“Kyros?”  

“ Shouta ,” came the artificially warbled voice. “How was your day?!”  

The hero’s frown deepened.   

“My day was fine, Kyros. What did you do?”  

Muffled rustling, and then a beat of silence before- “I didn’t do anything , Shouta, I was asking to be friendly you sourpuss. And I really do want to know. I heard there was an… event during the UA entrance exam.”   

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Kyros.”  

“I’m sure you don’t.”  

Shouta transferred the call to his earpiece and tucked the phone back into a zippered pocket, leaping off the rooftop as Kyros began recapping the leads and tips he had compiled for the hero. It was way too early for either of them to normally be active, but crime was commonplace at all times of the day and night where Eraserhead chose to patrol, and he certainly enjoyed the look of horror on some repeat offenders’ faces at being hauled off their feet by his scarf well before sunset.   

Standing over the prone form of his latest catch, the long-time pickpocket almost seemed like he’d seen a ghost.   

“Don’t you only come out at night?”  

Shouta huffed. “I’m not a vampire, you know.”  

The man just grumbled, even as Kyros laughed in his ear.   

“Are you sure you’re not a vampire, Shouta? Dressed in all black, creeping around at night, scaring people on purpose while you hunt for victims?”  

“I don’t hunt for victims , I pursue idiots .”  

“And scare them.”  

“And scare them.”   

“Uh… Eraserhead?”  

Shouta glanced down to find the thief staring up at him in fear. He shifted, almost subconsciously, so his shadow would cover the man’s face. He may be a pickpocket, but sun damage was no joke, especially for the eyes. He failed to realize he had just silhouetted himself against the setting sun, red eyes still glowing in the shadow of his figure.   

“Who are you talking to?”  

Shouta frowned. It was no secret he worked with vigilantes, and Kyros wasn’t exactly unknown.   

“Kyros.”  

The man’s mouth dropped open, but as he inhaled to speak, the siren of a police car finally became audible from a few blocks away. Shouta glanced over his handiwork, and once certain his perp was properly zip-tied, he turned and left him for the police to take care of, his incident report taped neatly to the man’s chest.   

Kyros continued to laugh in his ear as he leapt up a fire escape and resumed his patrol.   

Incident Report by Officer Sano Susumu  

Subject: Petty thief capture, suspect report  

Morita Naoko: fourth-time offense, petty thievery, pickpocketing. Requested record of incident report regarding his capture by Erasure Hero: Eraserhead.   

Recording Transcript:   

SUSUMU  

Beginning recording of incident report by suspect Morita Naoko regarding his capture by the Erasure Hero: Eraserhead.   

NAOKO  

No- no, it wasn’t me getting caught, that was normal. It was weird, like, him being out so early but he just caught me with his scarf like he usually does. He zip-tied me and like, laid me down and shit, you know, filled out a little report and taped it on my shirt, all that.   

SUSUMU  

So what is this report about?  

NAOKO  

When we were waiting for you guys, and your response time sucks by the way, when we were waiting he was standing over me like a fucking monster, hair floating and eyes glowing and all shadowy and shit, and he was talking to someone.   

SUSUMU  

Was he with another hero? A vigilante?  

NAOKO  

I didn’t see anybody. He wasn’t looking over at somebody else, either. He said something about… about hunting people, I think. And I asked him who he was talking to.   

SUSUMU  

And?  

NAOKO  

Chronos. He said he was talking to Chronos. Like, the evil, ancient Greek god Chronos? The one that ate the other gods? I dunno, man, he was dead serious.   

SUSUMU  

Could he have been… joking?  

NAOKO  

Have you met Eraserhead? I think he would break out in hives if he ever tried to make a joke. I’ve never even seen him smile.   

SUSUMU  

So it didn’t seem like he was joking.   

NAOKO  

No, officer, I don’t think Eraserhead was fucking with me for the hell of it.   

SUSUMU  

Is there anything else you’d like to add?  

NAOKO  

No.   

SUSUMU  

Alright. Thank you for your time. End recording.   

Transcript End  

As Office Susumu finished his paperwork, the blood tests on Naoko returned for him to add to his file. He glanced at them, expecting party drugs, maybe pot, something to explain his… imaginative report.   

Naoko came back completely clean, not even a concussion.   

Chapter Text

“MIDORIYA INKO!! GET OUT HERE!”  

Izuku and Inko share a smile as he swings their front door open, stepping aside to dodge Bakugo Mitsuki as she barrels into their apartment, tackling his mother in a hug. Masaru smiles warmly at Izuku, leaning through the doorway and holding a thrashing Katsuki in a strangely paternal headlock.   

“It’s good to see you, Izuku,” the man said. “How have you been?”  

“I’m alright, Uncle Masaru.” Izuku patted his pockets, checking for his phone, his burner phone, his keys, his wallet, his multi-tool, and a little metal disc he was saving for after dinner. He stepped through the door, still trading pleasantries with Masaru, while Mitsuki wrestled Inko out of the loose sweater she’d tried to sneak past her friend and into a gorgeous, emerald green dress. Izuku might’ve been worried about missing their reservation if the Bakugos weren’t personal friends of the owner.   

Izuku was pretty sure that’s the only way he and his mother would even be allowed into somewhere so exclusive.   

They took the Bakugos’ car, of course, and Masaru handed the keys to a valet as they were shown inside. Mitsuki led the way, taking one end of the oval table, with Inko to her right and Masaru to her left. Izuku sat next to his mom, Bakugo next to his father, a space between them where a sixth seat was clearly supposed to be.   

Dinner was amazing, and insufferably fancy. Elegant plating, rich sauces and irritatingly little substance on the appetizers, massive cuts of prime steak and shellfish for the entrée, and lemon sorbet so pale it just looked like ice that made Izuku’s face hurt with how sour it was. Through it all, the adults spoke, catching up and laughing together. Both boys kept reaching down the touch their pockets, checking again and again to be sure that their UA letters were still there.   

Four courses later, the boys had torn through every morsel of food and sat watching their parents still talking.   

“Mom?”  

Inko glanced at Izuku with a smile before Mitsuki caught her attention again, gesturing wildly.   

“Mom.”  

“In a second, dear.”  

Izuku stared at the back of his mother’s head, eyes open so wide it stung. Bakugo glared at Izuku.   

Inko, immune to Izuku’s Victorian-era-ghost impression, continued her conversation.   

Bakugo, sick of watching Izuku imitate the world’s most murderous mime, threw his fork at the boy, starting a very subtle (and dangerous) feud with cutlery, metal table décor, and food scraps stolen from their parents’ plates.   

They traded blows for several minutes, catching and returning each shot, Izuku with perfect aim and Bakugo with explosive (ha) power. It culminated when Bakugo, furious at having completely missed Izuku three times in a row, picks up his plate and hurls it at the boy.   

The shot goes wide, and both boys gasped as it barreled straight at Inko’s head.   

Inko, used to explosions at home and combative patients at work, caught the plate calmly, setting it atop hers without interrupting her conversation or attracting Mitsuki’s attention.   

Izuku leveled Katsuki with a venomous look and, lifting his plate, picked up the shiny metal charger from underneath. He smiled at Katsuki’s look of fear and, slipping his weapon under the table, flicked his wrist and sent it flying directly into Katsuki’s gut.   

The blonde doubled over with a gasp. He planted his forehead on the table and wheezed.   

Masaru reached over and patted his back, still listening to his wife talk.   

Their feud settled, the boys sat in silence, nursing their wounds and waiting impatiently. Mitsuki finished her story about the two interns at her local office who’d been caught being… intimate in a fitting room , and the uncomfortable phone calls she’d received from both of their spouses, but before Inko could begin her own work story, Bakugo jumped in.   

“Mom, can we go now?”  

All three adults looked at Izuku and Bakugo before trading glances.   

“My place?” Inko suggested. A silent consensus was reached, and soon all five were outside waiting for their car.   

The valet pulled around after a few minutes, long enough for Katsuki to start a wrestling match that ended with Mitsuki holding her son in a headlock, Izuku standing beside the two and patting a snarling Katsuki consolingly.   

In the car, Izuku and Katsuki pressed their foreheads against their respective windows and tried to ignore Inko describing the drunken trio she’d had to treat that past Saturday. Izuku, personally, had to respect the strength (or stupidity) it surely took to throw punches at the ER staff with the upper half of a Bacardi bottle embedded in your stomach.   

The drive ended just as Inko’s story did, and they piled out, Masaru a little green as he clambered up the stairs to the Midoriyas’ apartment. The boys led the charge inside, Izuku throwing Katsuki down onto the living room carpet and trying to pin him while their parents took their seats on the couch.   

“So,” Masaru began. “Who’s going first?”  

The fight on the ground in front of them suddenly became heated, Katsuki letting off cracks and sparks while Izuku twisted to grab ahold of a stack of magazines and slam it into his friend’s throat.   

Izuku popped up, clutching both discs and smiling innocently while Katsuki retched on the ground behind him.   

“I take it you’ll be going first then, Izuku?” Mitsuki asked.   

Izuku’s smile widened, and he offered both discs forward to her.   

“I was thinking we pick randomly. Which one?”  

Mitsuki immediately pointed to the one in his left hand, and Katsuki sat up, still red-faced, as Izuku flipped it and pressed a small button on its base. It buzzed slightly, and he let it drop to the carpet as a small light flickered from its smooth surface.   

“I AM HERE!!” exclaimed All Might’s life-sized hologram. Masaru jumped in his seat, gripping Mitsuki’s shoulders, while his wife leaned back with a muttered curse.   

Inko raised her eyebrows at the hero floating in front of them.   

“You, Katsuki Bakugo, were an exemplary candidate!”   

Katsuki smirked up at Izuku. “ First ,” he whispered, and earned a halfhearted kick.   

“You accumulated 56 villain points during the practical exam and received above-average marks on the written! Out of all our examinees, you placed second!” Next to All Might, a grainy video of Bakugo leaping off the side of a building and slamming his hands into a robot’s body, setting off an explosion that completely obscured the camera’s view played. “Congratulations, Katsuki Bakugo, on your acceptance into the hero course of UA! This is your hero academia!”  

Katsuki snarled at the now-still projection. “Second place?! Who the hell could beat me?” He stood and leaned towards the hovering leaderboard, mouthing the name silently.   

“Kyros is certainly an odd name,” Masaru interjected. Mitsuki batted at him over her shoulder but nodded in agreement.   

“He must have a strong quirk.” Katsuki frowned at his mother. Izuku’s smile tightened. Katsuki, ever paranoid, noticed his expression and turned with a snide smile.  

“It’s okay, Izuku, I’m sure you got at least a few points.” He patted Izuku’s shoulder sympathetically, expression turning cruel when he faced away from their parents. “Maybe you’ll even get to meet this Kyros guy someday and give him a taste of your stalking.” Inko bristled, but Mitsuki and Masaru both said nothing, just nodding along sympathetically. Mitsuki had called Inko the day after the exam, asking about Izuku. Katsuki had told her about the exam, and specifically the robots. She’d been so worried, Inko told Izuku later, since she knew that while Izuku was a “decent” fighter, he must’ve been so scared and helpless against opponents like those.   

Inko had only caved and told Izuku and Nezu what her friend had said when Nezu noticed the crushed remains of her phone in the kitchen trash can.   

Nobody was surprised that Katsuki had gotten into UA. It had always been a given that he would be a hero. Only Inko leaned forward, staring intently, when Izuku raised the second disc.   

Again, All Might’s image appeared, smiling blankly over Izuku’s head. “I AM HERE!!”  

“You, Izuku Midoriya, were an exceptionally talented candidate!”  

“Exceptionally…?” Mitsuki whispered. Inko squeezed her friend’s hand with a grin.   

“You accumulated 89 villain points during the practical exam, and received a record-breaking score on the written exam! Additionally, you were awarded 31 rescue points by the judges for your practical, totaling to 120 points!” Beside All Might, a high-definition recording of Izuku riding on the shoulders of a seemingly tamed robot and ploughing through a swarm of soon-to-be scrap metal played.   

Katsuki, Mitsuki, and Masaru stared open-mouthed at the hologram, and Izuku’s blurred shape through it.   

“Out of all our examinees, you placed first, and you’ve made our all-time leaderboard! You have the second-highest score of any examinee in UA history, second only to myself! Congratulations, Izuku Midoriya, on your acceptance into the hero course of UA! This is your hero academia!”  

The hologram froze with the leaderboard on display. Izuku’s name stood boldly at the top of the leaderboard, directly above Katsuki’s, but as they stared it warped and glitched, displaying, for a moment, a different name.   

“KYROS?!”   

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, it only took Masaru and Mitsuki a few minutes to pry their son off of Izuku, who’d remained utterly silent in the face of Katsuki’s threats and just stared at him with a maniacal grin.   

“THE HELL WAS THAT DEKU?! HOW THE HELL DID YOU CHEAT YOUR WAY ONTO THE LEADERBOARD? AND WHATS WITH THE SHITTY FUCKING NICKNAME ANYWAY?!” Katsuki screamed at Izuku, setting off small explosions in his palms and kicking out at the boy. He continued to squirm while Mitsuki heaved him off the ground and tightened her grip. The stance looked practiced, and it probably was; Katsuki never really grew out of his tantrum phase.   

“Katsuki,” Inko started before Izuku had a chance to respond, “I ask that you not speak to my son like that. If you continue to do so, I’ll have to ask you to leave.” She was in full-on lawyer mode; years of dealing with useless HR managers and self-important admin staff who didn’t think a woman could be anything but a nurse or janitor had forced her to learn a lot about how to deal with harassment and abuse.   

Izuku cast a grateful glance towards his mom which she responded to with a smile. Izuku may love antagonizing Katsuki to a certain extent but he knew it would never end well.  Trying to pull meaningful conversation from someone with the mental capacity of a elementary schooler was not a sustainable hobby; it felt more like pulling teeth.   

Not that Izuku would be against knocking a few of Katsuki’s loose.   

“Now Inko, there's no need to be so harsh,” Mitsuki interjected, still gripping a writhing Katsuki to her chest and twisting to look at her friend around his shoulder. Inko barely hid a grimace at the woman. “Katsuki has every right to be a bit surprised, and anyway I’d also like to know how Izuku managed to pass the entrance exam at all, let alone do so well in it. I mean, I didn’t even think they’d let him take it.” Mitsuki leaned forward as best she could while still holding her cursing son to stage-whisper to Inko, “And if he did cheat, I’m sure there are still some schools that would take him. You know, as a charity case.”  

Izuku watched as his mother's face tightened, her smile becoming strained. Inko had given Mitsuki quite a lot of grace when talking about Izuku’s quirklessness but Izuku knew his mom had been getting less and less forgiving when it came to that specific topic. Years of outright loathing for Izuku “ruining” Inko’s life had only recently subsided to placating pity for the both of them, and this development only seemed to bother Inko more.   

Masaru, to his credit, seemed the least surprised. “Izuku’s always been a smart boy. I’m not all that shocked he scored so well on the written exam, and I’m sure he had a plan for every possibility for the practical.” He smiled at Izuku widely and gave him a thumbs up, and Izuku grinned back; the man let his wife and son get away with far too much, but he had a good heart.   

“SHUT UP OLD MAN! THERE’S NO WAY THAT DAMN DEKU IS SMARTER THAN ME!!”  

Maybe not the best parenting skills, though.   

Inko opened her mouth to speak, but before she could even inhale, her phone rang.   

“ L… is for the way you look at me, O is for the only one I s-”  

Inko snatched up the phone quickly while Izuku mimed gagging. All three Bakugos froze, before leaning forward curiously. It was what united the entire family, really: they loved to gossip. Even Bakugo craned forward to hear better, still suspended over the ground.   

“Yes, dear?”  

All three of their mouths dropped open.   

A quiet, tinny voice issued from the phone; Inko must’ve turned the volume all the way up without putting it on speaker. “ I take it Izuku got in?”  

“He did, dear, we just found out. We’re with some friends, as well, and their son got in as well.”   

“ Well isn’t that wonderful, why don’t I take you two out to celebrate?”   

“Where were you thinking?” She crossed her free arm under her chest, glancing up at Mitsuki with a slight smile. Izuku dropped onto the couch, planting his head in his hands in mortification.   

“ I already have reservations for the three of us at Kitcho in Ginza, I’ll have someone pick you up tomorrow.”   

Mitsuki suddenly dropped her son onto the floor. She shoved him aside with her foot as she stalked towards Inko, planting her hands on the woman’s shoulders and lowering her head. Inko didn’t react at all.   

“Are you sure, dear? It was so fancy, and we’ve already been once before.”   

Masaru, who was consolingly (and rather confusedly) patting Izuku’s shoulder, looked up in shock. Izuku could definitely understand; Nezu had taken Izuku and Inko to Kitcho once before. It was a century-old establishment that had held three Michelin stars for nearly its entire existence, and its prestige had only increased over time. Nezu wouldn’t let them see the check, but Izuku’s research told him it must’ve cost at least 885,000 yen.   

“ I won’t hear an argument, Inko, I know how much you liked the food there. How does 4 o’clock sound?”   

Inko smiled over Mitsuki’s head. “That sounds perfect. We’ll see you there?”  

“ See you there.”   

Inko glanced over at Izuku, whose shoulders were shaking. He loved to be dramatic about their relationship, and recently he’d taken to acting as though Inko’s mysterious boyfriend was abusive. She would almost be worried if she didn’t know how much Izuku loved to antagonize Nezu, and how friendly they really were under all the snarky banter.   

“See you there, darling. All my love,” she whispered into the phone before hanging up. Mitsuki was still gripping her shoulders a bit too hard, face downturned. Masaru and Katsuki stood (and sat) staring at Inko.   

“Inko?”  

“Yes, Mitsuki?” Only Izuku noticed the tightness in Inko’s voice.   

“ Why didn’t you tell me you were DATING SOMEONE?!” Mitsuki’s head snapped up and she started to shake Inko by her shoulders, but Inko shrugged out of the woman’s grip, smiling sliding off her face.   

Mitsuki stood staring at Inko for a long moment.   

“Because,” Inko said, “that’s something I would tell a friend.”   

“We are friends,” Mitsuki said indignantly, expression suddenly angry. Masaru and Katsuki both looked down instinctively. Mood swings were typical with Mitsuki, always so volatile when she didn’t hear what she wanted to hear. And she definitely didn’t want to hear what Inko finally wanted to say.   

“No, we aren’t friends,” Inko said calmly. Years of dismissiveness and pity bubbled up, tamped down the entire night. “I am your friend. I listen to you complain about people you should care about. I help you take care of Katsuki so you and Masaru can both work full-time. And Katsuki, your precious son, that little monster. You’ve never done a damn thing when you come by and see what he’s done to my apartment. To my son. But you haven’t been a friend to me since college, Mitsuki. And especially not since I had Izuku.”   

Mitsuki watched her friend carefully. Her face flushed, then grew red, and then redder, and redder. Her hands fisted at her side, she stepped up to Inko so they were nose-to-nose. They all knew what was coming. Mitsuki was always so bubbly, until she bubbled over, and then she was on the warpath, throwing the biggest tantrums the world over.   

“I haven’t been a friend ? Inko, I’ve put up with a lot of shit from you. I’ve let my precious son rub off on your sniveling disappointment, give him some mettle, some experience, give the both of you the honor of knowing the next #1.” Masaru looked uncomfortably down at Izuku, who was watching the two women carefully, eyes narrowed. Katsuki had stood up and was shifting next to his father, flushed with embarrassment. He’d seen his mother throw fits like this, but never at Inko. Never at his auntie, or anyone he actually gave a fuck about.   

“But you ,” Mitsuki hissed, “should be fucking grateful that I let you stick around with us. Do you know who I know in the hospital you work at? I should put your ass on the street for talking about me and my boy like that you bi-”  

Three sharp knocks echoed through the apartment.   

Mitsuki froze. Even she would never throw a fit in front of strangers; her public image was too important. Izuku, Masaru, and Katsuki still stood staring at both women as Inko leaned away from Mitsuki to shout, “Come in!”.   

Heavy footfalls echoed through the space as a very imposing man came into view. He wore a fitted black suit, a muted grey tie, blacked-out sunglasses, and a wired earpiece. He approached Inko, marching stiffly around the couch under the watchful gaze of all five gathered.   

“Mrs. Midoriya-sama, please pardon the intrusion. Mr. Midoriya-hakase has sent me to deliver this as a congratulatory gift.”   

Mitsuki’s eyes just about bugged out of her head, but her face went completely slack when the man bowed and presented Inko with a gift bag emblazoned with the logo of Japan’s finest fashion brand, the kind that only puts out seasonal lines that feature pieces more expensive than most people’s yearly rent. Mitsuki always talked about them as if they were her direct competition, and not featured on international rankings the likes of which Mitsuki and Masaru’s brand would never even be mentioned in the footnotes of.   

Behind the stranger, Masaru looked down at Izuku and mouthed, “ Hakase?”. Katsuki still stared at his mother with an odd look on his face.   

Inko lifted the bag out of the man’s hands, though he remained bowed at a perfect 90 degrees. She peered inside with a faint smile before putting it back in his grasp.   

“Why don’t you leave this with Izuku? He’ll know where to put it.”   

The man pivoted and, just as formally as before, bowed to the still-seated Izuku with a stiff, “Midoriya-senpai.”   

Izuku accepted the bag with a nod, and the man rose, returning his attention to Inko.   

“Mrs. Midoriya-sama, please excuse me, but I do have to ask…” The man reached up and placed his hand on a holster at his hip which had previously been hidden by his suit jacket. “I heard a disturbance from outside. Do any of these people need to be escorted off the premises?”  

Inko looked at Mitsuki appraisingly, giving her a very obvious once-over. The woman paled, obviously imagining herself being manhandled out onto a busy public street, even if it was rather late at night.   

“No, Sako, I don’t think that will be necessary, but why don’t you stay? It’s late; you may as well walk them out once we’re done.”   

The man paced back to the wall behind the couch, settling in a perfect parade rest with no expression at all. The room was still, and silent. Katsuki and Masaru looked at one another over Izuku’s head. Izuku peered into the gift bag, raising his eyebrows appreciatively at the clothes inside. Inko held Mitsuki’s gaze for a long, tense moment.   

Mitsuki looked away first, but she looked back with a snarl and raised an open hand.   

Before the slap could land, Sako materialized behind her, catching her wrist and twisting her around to hold both her hands.   

“Ma’am?”  

“I think we’re done.”   

Sako looked down at Mitsuki. When she held still, he released her, but kept right at her heels as she straightened and threw a sneer over her shoulder.   

She stormed past the trio who’d been watching this entire time. Katsuki stepped back, pressing his calves into the couch. Izuku rested his chin on his fist and stared straight ahead. Masaru flinched, and Izuku glanced up at him sadly.   

Sako followed Mitsuki out, leaving Katsuki and Masaru to scramble after them, both turning to bow to Inko and Izuku before scurrying into the night.   

Mother and son traded tired looks. Izuku gestured to her with the gift bag.   

“You hungry?”  

“Izuku, that meal was four courses.”  

“So… no?”  

Chapter Text

Mitsuki Bakugo stood at the gates to UA, dressed to the nines and snarling at every passerby at 6 AM the following morning. Almost an hour later, when Pro Heroes Cementoss and Power Loader arrive first to begin the day, hoping to prepare for their classes and the various gyms and cities, they turned the corner and, even from thirty paces, could clearly see the blonde woman guarding the entrance’s. They watched as her face morphed from a scowl into a gentle smile the moment she spotted them. She stood, waiting patiently for them to approach, and the moment they were within earshot set off on a mile-a-minute introduction.   

The two pro heroes traded looks out the corner of their eyes and picked up the pace. By the time they reached her, she’d somehow gotten comfortable enough to reach up and grab Cementoss’ shoulder, falling into step with them as though already guaranteed to be taken inside. She was, of course, still talking. The trio paused at the entrance to UA, a gated door with a badge scanner. She leaned closer to the man, looking up at him expectantly and finally, blessedly, falling silent.   

“Do you mind?” he rumbled. She raised her eyebrows, but took the smallest step away from him. His frown deepened, and once he’d swiped his badge he slipped through as fast as he could, leaving her on the other side. She flushed, looking down at Power Loader.   

“Surely you wouldn’t be so rude, sir, I’m only here to file a complaint with your boss.”   

Behind his mask, Power Loader frowned. He was absolutely not going to submit someone like this to Nezu’s wrath, even if he thought it would do her some good to be told no. He pushed past her and, swiping his badge, just about leapt through the door. Cementoss looked on as he pulled out his eclectic-looking modified phone and opened the UA staff groupchat.   

Cenmentoss

6:39 You all might want to find other ways to enter UA today.

There’s an odd woman by the entrance trying to get in.

Power Loader

she seems like a reporter, said she had a complaint for nezu 6:40

Midnight  

  kk! 6:46

VladKing  

got it   6:57

Present Mic  

you got it! 7:01

Eraserhead  

Did you get a name? 7:10

Powerloader  

No. She’s blonde, with short hair and dressed well. She didn’t use our real 
or hero names, or clarify her “complaint”. 7:13 

Nezu  

I will be out of the office today, so once the receptionists arrive they can 
use their discretion as to whether she can enter and wait peacefully.  I’ll be back this evening.  7:23

Mitsuki Bakugou stood at the gates to UA, furious and wishing she’d worn flats instead of heels at 2 PM that afternoon. No other staff had entered; she was certain they couldn’t have snuck past her, though she’d seen the same two police officers walk past a few times now and couldn’t help but wonder if she was about to be warned off for loitering. The day was hot, and humid, with no wind to speak of, and she checked her makeup in her phone camera once again to check its progress in bleeding off her face.   

“Ma’am?”  

A voice echoed from behind her, a feminine one, and she whirled to see a small intercom speaker beside the door.   

“Ma’am?” it said again. Mitsuki sneered and stalked up to it.   

“I have been waiting for hours , I was under the impression that this federal establishment was open to the public when school was not in session and I have a right to enter and see the principal wh-”   

“Of course,” the voice interrupted, an irritating, pitchy sound. The door swung open. Mitsuki looked around for a camera and, failing to find one, huffed and adjusted her blazer before striding into UA. She found herself on a lush campus, not that she expected anything less, though she had hoped for at least a little signage to direct her.   

Once inside, she paced nondescript, maze-like halls for hours. Each time she passed a window, it seemed like the sun was being hauled down out of the sky; she must’ve been walking around for at least 6 hours, long enough for her phone to die in her pocket.   

Finally, Mitsuki found a long, mostly straight hallway with a single door labeled “staff lounge”. She squared her shoulders and pushed inside, finding it dark, all the computers and appliances shut off. She groped around the wall for a light switch but found nothing. She settled for crossing the space and forcing the window blinds open despite their groans of protest.   

The evening light revealed a couch against the far wall, and she set herself down with a sigh of frustration. She considered her options; walking further and probably getting more lost, or sitting here and hoping she doesn’t get locked in overnight. She didn’t get much of a chance to pick, however, before a pale, bloodless face with sunken red eyes swung out from underneath her seat.   

Sat on one side of a round table in Kitcho, Inko, Izuku, and Nezu watch the UA camera feeds on a computer monitor Nezu had brought out for them. A pixelated Mitsuki Bakugo leapt to her feet, screaming in terror as Aizawa rose to his full height like a cartoony depiction of Dracula, cast in shadow even through the high-definition cameras.   

“So was he following her through the vents?”  

Izuku and Nezu traded looks.   

“Well,” Izuku said, “if it were anyone else, probably.”  

“But not Mitsuki?” Inko asked around a bite of calamari.   

“Aizawa could’ve been walking side-by-side with her and she probably wouldn’t have noticed,” Nezu chirped.   

They fell silent as Aizawa’s tinny voice instructed Mitsuki to sit on the couch and wait. She complied, but only managed a few moments of silence before hefting her metaphorical shovel.   

“So are you janitorial staff or security?”  

Inko dropped her head into her hands while Izuku choked on his sip of tea.   

“I’m just staff,” Aizawa replied.   

“I’m surprised UA would hire someone so…” The trio held their breaths, wondering how deep a hole she would dig for herself. She gave him a very obvious once-over and finished, “unfortunate.”  

Aizawa looked up and made eye contact with the security camera. “I’m an underground hero, actually.”   

Nezu and Izuku broke out into matching grins, and Inko watched closely as Mitsuki came to three successive realizations.   

First: this scruffy stranger must be a teacher.   

Second: the least-known teacher at UA was the 1A teacher.   

Third: this disgusting, unfashionable, lazy-looking scumbag was going to be Katsuki’s mentor.   

Mitsuki inhaled deeply and sat up straighter, and all three viewers leaned forward to hear her better.   

“So you must be the 1A teacher,” she sniffed. “I’m surprised, really; underground heroes aren’t good for much, I was hoping my son’s talent would be fostered by someone more accomplished.”   

Aizawa shut his eyes, still facing the security camera from his desk chair.   

“I know All Might will be teaching here this year, and I’m certainly grateful Katsuki won’t be solely under your care.”   

“You’re Katsuki Bakugo’s mother?”  

Mitsuki raised her eyebrows at the man and smirked. “I am. I take it you noticed his excellence during the entrance exam?”  

“I noticed him,” Aizawa grimaced. He had, in fact, noticed Katsuki during the practical exam. He’d noticed the boy flinch at the start announcement, then become incredibly irate as he barreled into the city. He’d also noticed the boy indirectly throw another examinee off a five-story building when an explosion went wide of his target. The entire viewing room, in fact, had been near-silent as they’d watched him flinch at Recovery Girl’s approach, crouching stock-still as she healed his many injuries.   

“Then I’m sure you’ll understand when the time comes for him to intern with a more talented hero, like Endeavor. His quirk and publicity are exactly what my Katsuki should learn from.”   

Aizawa, Nezu, Izuku, and Inko all cringed at her words, knowing full well the moment the youngest Todoroki was under UA’s care, his father would never be within five meters of him again.   

Mitsuki, to her credit, spoke loudly and clearly for her voice to echo not only throughout the surrounding hallways of UA, but also clearly out of the computer speakers over Izuku and Inko’s laughter.   

They finished their appetizers with her as their ambient background noise, and by the time their next course was served, they’d gotten to watch Aizawa march her out of the staff lounge and sit her down on a low stool just outside the door, which had been left there under a small paper sign on the wall. She sat there for a long moment, staring at nothing with a shocked expression before frowning and pulling her sweater tighter around herself, tapping her foot impatiently. Nezu finally turned the monitor off so they could enjoy their meal in peace, a waiter appearing to haul it away.   

Mitsuki Bakugo has been waiting outside the UA staff lounge for three hours and forty eight minutes. She knows this because there’s an analog clock on the wall across from her, and it’s been ticking so loudly her thoughts have started lining up to the beat of it like a metronome.   

Sharp, fast footsteps echo down the hall to her. She straightened on her stool and watched a small figure round the gentle curve of the hallway. He was walking so quickly his legs were almost a blur, a staccato tap-tap-tap-tap-tap bouncing off the plain walls.   

The principal of UA came to an abrupt stop in front of Mitsuki, pivoting to look up at her.   

“I see you’ve met our dear Aizawa-sensei,” the animal chirped. His gaze traveled upwards, and she twisted to look at the wall behind her.   

She found a small paper sign taped above her head, which had obviously been there for some time, and read “TIME-OUT”.   

“Our staff like to joke with one another,” Nezu explained. “I believe that sign was for one of our employees who struggles to manage his quirk.”  

“He should be ashamed,” Mitsuki sniffed. “A toddler should be able to handle their quirk.”   

Nezu’s smile tightened, and inside the staff lounge, Aizawa Shouta’s grip tightened on his capture scarf. His eye twitched, gaze still fixed on the security camera he knew he was being watched through. From a small tea room attached to Nezu’s office, Izuku and Inko snickered at his expression over a bowl of sorbet they’d been sent off with from Kitcho, switching feeds as Nezu invited Mitsuki Bakugou into his office.   

Chapter Text

“So, Ms…?”

“Mrs. Bakugo.”

“Ms. Bandou, right.” Nezu sipped from his teacup, which she definitely hadn’t noticed before. “I heard you had a complaint for me?”

“It’s Bakugo, actually.”

“Of course. The complaint?”

“It’s about the entrance exam.”

Nezu set his teacup on the plate, still holding the handle, and smiled up at her sympathetically. “I understand the frustration, Ms. Bandou, but we cannot accept all candidates. Did your child not pass?”

Mitsuki bristled. “It’s Bakugo, and he did pass, but I felt the need to inform you about a cheater.”

“Did you catch your child cheating, then?”

“No,” she snapped. The rat’s eyebrows raised. “A dear friend of mine has a quirkless son, and he cheated. His acceptance letter claimed he’d gotten first place, but my son’s letter said someone named Kyros had gotten first place.” Mitsuki leaned back in her chair with a frown. “I don’t know how he managed it, but there’s no way that boy should’ve even been allowed to take the exams.”

“And what would the applicant’s name be, Ms. Bandou?”

“Bakugo.”

“The applicant’s name is Bakugo? Is that the first or last name?”

“No, it- the applicant’s name is Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku.”

Nezu nodded and released his teacup, leaning to the side.

“My personal student is actually on campus today, and I’m sure he would be happy to check for evidence of cheating for you.” Nezu pressed a button that had previously been flush with the desk’s surface, and a small chime echoed from outside the office door. He leaned down and spoke into a small microphone; “Cementoss, Ectoplasm, would you please escort my student in?”

Mitsuki was, of course, intrigued. A personal student would certainly be a fantastic influence on Katsuki, and could even get him into the good graces of UA and its administration.

They both sat in flat silence for a long minute until the door swung open, seemingly entirely on its own, and in stepped on of the two heroes she’d seen that morning, the large, blocky one, followed by a monstrous-looking stranger in an ugly brown trench coat. Both men stood straight, facing the principal, the first with a genteel smile, the other with a flat, almost nervous expression. They both looked very familiar, but she didn’t keep up with small-time heroes; that was Katsuki’s fixation.

Nezu looked expectantly at the heroes. They both turned around, as though checking for something, before turning back with unsure shrugs. From the ceiling, a grating sound echoed out, before a small figure in a fitted black suit dropped down into the unoccupied chair to Mitsuki’s left, reaching forward for the teacup awaiting him before anyone had time to react.

Mitsuki Bakugo twisted to give the teen a critical once-over, before freezing and checking off a series of tick boxes in her head.

Green hair?

Freckles?

Short stature?

Smug smile?

The only part that didn’t match was his clothes, fine and clearly tailored. Izuku Midoriya would never wear something so tasteful; his mother, for all her golden heart, never bothered to make the boy look respectable.

She tuned back in to the conversation happening around her, still staring incredulously at the cheating brat sitting next to her.

“Izuku-kun, would you please tell me why you changed your scores in your acceptance letter?”

Mitsuki turned to look at the principal so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash. Finally! Of course he believed her, it was obvious to anyone who knew what he was that he couldn’t have gotten those scores!

“We’re very disappointed, Izuku,” rumbled a deep voice from behind her. The other hero hummed his assent, and her smile grew.

“I have to agree, Izuku.” She leaned forward, placing a manicured hand on the principal’s desk. “You’ve disgraced this fine institution with your little tricks.”

Izuku looked between her and the principal guiltily, still holding his teacup. Mitsuki was finally going to pry this leech out of her son’s life, she was sure of it. When Nezu pulled a metal disc from his desk, her expression was nearly maniacal.

“This,” the principal set the disc on his desk with a clack, “is your actual exam results recording. Really, Izuku-kun, I was impressed you managed to fake All Might’s voice so convincingly.”

Mitsuki made a mental note to check if faking a pro hero’s likeness was a punishable offense. Maybe, if she managed to put this kid away for a few years, Inko would come to her senses and apologize for being such a-

“I AM HERE!!”

Izuku sank down in his chair, face bright red.

“You, Izuku Midoriya, were an exceptionally talented candidate!”

Hearing the word now, Mitsuki could hear the placating flattery to let him down gently as he was rejected.

“You accumulated 112 villain points during the practical exam, and received a record-breaking score on the written exam! Additionally, you were awarded 48 rescue points by the judges for your practical, totaling to 160 points!” Beside All Might, the same recording of Izuku riding on the shoulders of a seemingly tamed robot played.

Mitsuki’s face flushed a bloodless white, her fingernails digging into the wood under her hand.

“Out of all our examinees, you placed first, and topped our all-time leaderboard! You have the highest score of any examinee in UA history, and cleared the previous recordholder, myself, by an even 20 points! Congratulations, Izuku Midoriya, on your acceptance into the hero course of UA on a custom scholarship! This is your hero academia!”

Mitsuki’s incredible ability to become utterly unaware of her surroundings suddenly disappeared, and the atmosphere in the room no longer bolstered her confidence. In a moment of icy clarity, she came to the realization that maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t made the best choice in coming here.

The conversation happening over her head continued.

“Really, Izuku, I knew you were poking around, but falsifying your scores? I’m disappointed.”

“You know we all believe in you, Izuku, how could we not have noticed the change?”

The boy’s grin was bashful as he raised his hands placatingly. “I just didn’t want to upset a friend of mine. I knew he’d get second place, but if I beat him by too much he might get discouraged!”

Katsuki.

He was talking about Katsuki.

This quirkless brat had lowered his score? To… spare Katsuki’s feelings?

Mitsuki inhaled to say something, but a hand came down on her shoulder, making her jump. She turned to meet the gaze of that other hero, the small-timer, the one with the weird grin.

“I think we’ll handle the situation from here, ma’am.”

Nezu stood with a smile, pacing around his desk to flank her other side as both heroes ushered her out of the room. She turned the moment she crossed the threshold, staring at the rat in shock.

“Sir, I-”

“Mrs. Bandou, I appreciate your vigilance. I’m sure we’ll be in contact once your child begins school here.”

“It’s Mrs. Bakugou.”

“No matter, ma’am. Please, have a good day, and feel free to show yourself out.”

The door shut in her face with an unsatisfying click, soft and completely insufficient for the rage she could feel beginning to bloom inside her. She slowly turned to look out at the long, now ominous hallway ahead of her.

Ah.

Now how was she going to get out?

Chapter Text

Two weeks later, Izuku was sorting through their mail when his eye caught on a handwritten envelope addressed to both him and his mom.  

“Hey mom?”  

“Yes, dear?” She twisted to look over her shoulder at him from the couch, Nezu standing to peer over the back of it.   

“Mr. Bakugo sent us a letter.”   

A tense moment passed.   

He heard two sets of footsteps, one much faster than the other, as he carefully lifted the flap and tugged out a neatly folded, typed note.   

“ I’d like to apologize,” Izuku read. He raised an eyebrow, turning to trade a look with Inko. She nodded down at the paper and he looked back down to continue.   

“ I’d like to apologize for Mitsuki’s behavior, and for Katsuki’s, but most of all I’d like to apologize for my own behavior. I’ve put up with a lot in my lifetime, not that my own experiences should excuse me, but while I tolerated my own treatment, I cannot believe I allowed my own son to grow into such an unstable, violent individual.”   

Izuku straightened slightly, skimming back over the paragraph as Nezu leapt onto the counter via the ever-expanding trellises and catwalks around their house to facilitate his pacing and theatrics.   

He cleared his throat and continued. “ Mitsuki has always been a difficult person, but I never imagined it would come to this. She has never, never hurt Katsuki. I do put up with a lot, but on the night she came back from her meeting with Principal Nezu, I barely recognized her. I had to take Katsuki to the emergency room, and we are now staying with my parents until he can get the stitches removed.” Beside Izuku, Inko had her hand over her mouth, listening in horror.   

“ I have pressed charges, and with years of hospital visits and incident reports from our work, I can guarantee she will never see either of you or Katsuki again. I’ve been advised to press charges for spousal abuse, but I think I’ll hold off. Katsuki is seeing a counselor, I’ve taken control of the company, and I’m selling our house for a smaller one. We need a fresh start, and though I know Katsuki and I don’t deserve your grace, I would hope you’d stop by for the housewarming party later this month.  

“Inko, Mitsuki never deserved you, and I didn’t either. Izuku, you are a wonderful, intelligent young man. Take care of yourselves, and say hello to the Principal for me. If you need any tailoring, or are ever in the market for a certain white dress, I’ll be happy to help.”   

Nezu smiled slightly at Inko, who was wearing a slight blush, as Izuku reread the letter.   

“A certain white dress? Did you tell Masaru about me?”  

Inko frowned at the stoat, though it held no real venom. “I didn’t tell him a thing. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for, he just doesn’t say much.”   

“Maybe I should invite him for an early parent conference about Katsuki. Even if his son is getting counseling, his insight could be… interesting.”   

“Please don’t threaten Masaru.”   

“I would nev-”  

“Or Katsuki.”   

“I won’t threaten Masaru.”   

“Nezu, dear-”  

Their banter passed right over Izuku’s curls without registering. He reread the note again and again, almost unbelieving. It wasn’t just that Izuku never thought Masaru would have it in him to report or divorce Mitsuki, though that was certainly true. Izuku was trying desperately to visualize Katsuki Bakugou in… therapy?  

He sent out a silent prayer on behalf of the wallpaper and furniture of whatever poor counselor got stuck with a human Bob-Omb on their couch. Even if Katsuki controlled his temper ( if ), his endless supply of explosive sweat required far more care than he ever deigned to exercise.   

Inko and Izuku had the splinters of several wooden coffee tables in one of their closets that had been detonated by dropped coffee mugs and stubbed toes to prove that. Inko even had a scar on her knee from a six-inch shard of wood that she’d insisted on walking to the hospital with still in her leg, since they didn’t have a car and the bus and train stations would take too long.   

“Izuku?”  

Nezu leaned forward to skim the letter himself, and Izuku handed it to the stoat as he turned to his mom.   

“I can’t believe…” Inko stared at the paper in Nezu’s hands. “I mean, I knew she was capable of it, but…”   

Izuku nodded. He’d seen what Mitsuki was like, knew for years how she felt about him from the way she acted when Inko wasn’t around. He’d still never have thought she’d do something so awful, but maybe it would be for the best to get Katsuki away from her influence.   

“So,” Izuku stepped around the counter, shuffling the rest of their mail into a neat stack and setting it into the woven basket they left out for it. “What do you think?”  

“Think?”  

“About Masaru? The housewarming party, seeing them both again?”  

Nezu glanced up at Inko for her response. She set her elbows on the counter with a sigh, combing a hand through her hair.   

“I think he’s sincere in apologizing, and Mitsuki has always been the real issue in their family, so I don’t see any reason not to go. I just… I don’t know if Katsuki is the best influence on you.”   

Izuku couldn’t really disagree. “He definitely hasn’t been a friend to me… but it hasn’t always been his fault.” Under his shirt, the hand-shaped burn scar on his shoulder seemed to tighten, pulling at his skin with every breath. Even if Katsuki hadn’t been taught better, there were some things Izuku couldn’t forgive him for.   

Inko nodded, looking at her son carefully. At the very least, they both wanted to be there for Masaru, and maybe see if he was supporting Katsuki and undoing some of the damage from Mitsuki’s “parenting”.   

“I take it we’ll need some new clothes for this housewarming party?” Nezu chirped, startling them both.   

“I really don’t think that’s neces-” Inko started, but Izuku laid a hand on her arm. This, at least, was one of the few things he and Nezu could agree on: giving Inko nice things.   

“I think we owe it to Masaru to make it a special event,” Izuku said with an innocent smile. Nezu nodded in agreement, already pulling out his phone to make a rather one-sided call to his tailor while Inko sighed and shook her head.   

“Nezu, I’m running out of room in my closet,” she said with a bashful smile. At this, Izuku paled, and Nezu turned back to her with a broad smile that showed off all of his teeth.   

“Monsieur? I’m going to have to call you back,” he said into the phone. Without even pulling it away from his ear he tapped the screen once, twice, and made a second call that was picked up before the first ring ended.   

An excited voice squawked out of the phone’s speakers, and Nezu said aloud, mostly to Inko, “If that’s the case, dear, you really can’t argue that you can stay in this little apartment anymore.”   

Inko’s expression suddenly mirrored Izuku’s, and even as they both tried to reassure the animal that they were perfectly comfortable, Nezu spoke quietly over the both of them, scheduling a consultation for the next day with the realty office he owned nearly 50% of.   

It wasn’t an argument; it wasn’t even a conversation. A slip of the tongue, and he had his excuse.   

“I’ll send a car to pick you two up in the morning!”   

Despite his inability to show most human emotions on his face, Nezu looked positively ecstatic.   

Chapter Text

Nemuri Kayama wouldn’t consider herself exceptionally close with her boss. She appreciated his allowances with her curriculum for her art classes, and he had always respected her hero work and personal time.

So, when Nezu called her (via her work phone, of course) to ask if she would mind escorting him and his wife the next day during an unspecified outing, she saw no reason to refuse. He told her it would be a part of her work for UA, and would therefore be paid appropriately, so she laid out a semi-formal outfit of business attire, but included her whip and earpiece.

That night, she went to bed early, musing over her nightly cup of tea about Nezu’s wife. Would she be a human, or another quirked animal? Certainly she would be smart, but Nemuri felt a chill go up her spine as she considered this strange woman’s… temperament. She knew what Nezu was like.

She finished her tea and went to bed, trying not to imagine meeting a second Nezu.

The vibrant green-haired women shook Nemuri’s hand excitedly and asked for an autograph on behalf of her son, which shocked Nemuri to the core, especially as she tried to ignore the mischievous look of her boss. Nezu’s wife had been surprising, at least to Nemuri’s imagination; short, with a friendly demeanor and a glowing smile. The woman had an air about her, though, that stifled any thoughts of this being some sort of elaborate prank. There was confidence in Mrs. Midoriya (Nezu Midoriya ?) that had Nemuri biting her tongue as she fell into step a few paces behind the couple, following them into the first house.

Inko felt Nezu’s paw prod her hand, and she accepted it, letting him guide her through their first option. The radio in her ear echoed with Izuku’s clack-clack-clacking on his keyboard, hidden safely in Nezu’s office at UA. They’d decided it was a bit too early to properly introduce Izuku to most of the staff, so he was watching the tours through a camera on Nezu’s lapel.

The first house was big. Not big. Huge . Three stories, with a pool and enough space for a professional soccer match in the backyard, plus a master suite that took up the entire top floor. Even the bottom floor on its own, without the backyard or lush front yard with its looped gravel driveway, could’ve hosted almost all of UA’s student body. Izuku spent the tour retching theatrically into his microphone and mocking the stiff, modern aesthetic of the home, much to Nezu’s annoyance. Inko had a bit more tact than her son, but she made it obvious to the stoat that this was a bit too much.

They paced each floor anyway, Midnight trailing behind them, as Nezu enthused about the home’s amenities. A jacuzzi bathtub in the master bathroom, two secondary suites for “guests”, a sprawling, fully-outfitted kitchen, and floor-to-ceiling pane windows on the top floor overlooking the lush backyard all made Inko cringe just a bit.

Grinning widely, Nezu led the way back out the front door with his wife and employee, and soon they were all three piled into Nezu’s car. Nemuri had originally tried to insist on driving herself, but Nezu had final say, as always, and had inexplicably demanded that she ride with him and his wife, so she’d met them at UA, expecting an SUV or security detail. When he’d gestured for her to take the driver’s seat, she despondently realized she’d actually been invited as a glorified chauffer. She’d settled in dutifully and started the luxurious Benz he’d shown her to and endured the silent ride to the first tour.

The second drive, though, was far more entertaining, at least for Nemuri, when a strange voice buzzed into existence out of the car’s speakers, obviously filtered through some kind of voice modulator.

“ Nezu, that was ridiculous. How much does that house cost?!”

Nemuri could feel the stoat’s smile behind her. “Why, Kyros, that was from the medium list. I specifically set aside my portfolio of larger properties for today, since I know how nervous your mother has been about the move.”

Nemuri, to her credit, only nearly swerved into oncoming traffic when she heard the name Kyros, as in the notorious vigilante who’d been tormenting Shouta Aizawa for months. As in Japan’s most notorious hacker and underground analyst.

As in, apparently, Nezu’s son .

“You cannot be serious. We don’t need that much space!”

“If you say so.”

Inko cleared her throat pointedly. “Boys, be nice. It’s not even 8 in the morning.”

The car fell silent, but the remaining drive to the second option was short, and they were soon climbing out to meet the… excitable realtor of this particular property.

A short, slender man with purple balls in his hair and an unsettlingly wide smile was waiting to greet them. “Good morning!” he exclaimed. “Please, come inside.”

Nemuri gave the realtor a once-over and frowned, stepping up to trail more closely behind Nezu and Inko once they started walking. Nezu seemed to notice something off as well, and strode ahead to stand beside Mr. Minoru while he fumbled for his keys.

Inko, who apparently had no such interest in maintaining any semblance of politeness, stared at the man with narrowed eyes. When Mr. Minoru pulled the door open and looked down at Nemuri and Inko from the top of the front porch steps, she addressed him as she began to climb the stairs.

“You seem annoying, Mr. Minoru.”

She walked past Nezu and the realtor without waiting for a reply, hands folded behind her back as she began to pace through the house. Nezu grit his teeth to hide a smile, and Nemuri followed Inko inside, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Well,” Mr. Minoru said through a tight smile. “What a character .” He followed Nezu inside and had to hurry to keep up with the deceptively fast animal, panting his way through the tour.

Nezu walked quickly enough to catch up to his wife, passing Nemuri, and his employee stepped aside to slightly block and walk beside the realtor, who fell into step with her gratefully, wheezing as he caught his breath.

Far enough ahead to be comfortably out of earshot, Nezu leaned slightly in towards his wife as they turned past the gaudy, marble-tile stairwell to enter what seemed to be a hospital sitting room.

“Do you know him?”

Inko frowned, still looking straight ahead. “I’m familiar with his family.”

Both of their earpieces crackled to life for the first time since they stepped out of the car.

“His son is a nightmare. They’ve got the hospital director in their pocket, so whenever someone comes into the ER and tries to accuse him or his son of assaulting them, it all gets swept under the rug.”

Nezu stiffened at that. He’d been tangentially aware of the Minoru family, but moreso as a possible problem when the son enrolled rather than something so overtly sinister. He made a mental note to shred Mineta Minoru’s application when he got back to UA. In the meantime, though, he’d only needed to take one look at the house to decide he hated it. The hideous décor could be fixed, the sterile walls repainted, but the strange, confining layout and low-quality floors and counters made it practically worthless. The time it would take to completely remake the building would be more of a hassle than just having a brand-new house constructed.

Honestly, it suited Mr. Minoru rather well; drab on the outside, classless on the inside.

A hand landed on Inko’s shoulder, startling Nezu out of his thoughts when she flinched and took a large step aside, allowing Minoru to slip between them and turn to Nezu, ignoring her completely. She glanced at the back of his head with her lip curled, and then stepped away to make her way toward the kitchen, which was objectively the best part of the house they’d seen yet. This is to say it had absolutely nothing especially good or bad about it at first glance, and Inko pretended to inspect the counters and cupboards while they both listened to Minoru speak.

“It’s a classic design, as I’m sure you can tell, Mr. Nezu, sir, timeless and flexible for any kind of décor.” He paused to grandly gesture to the living room, which was certainly some kind of classic with artificially faded paisley wallpaper, a pale floral print on the couches, and an inexplicably neon carpet, which was also in a massive, but very different, floral print. The walls were bare, obviously to show off the eye-catching pattern, but the windows had unfinished wood casings and warped, plastic-y “glass”.

“I see,” Nezu responded drily. He glanced at Inko over Minoru’s shoulder, but just as she inhaled to speak, possibly to make some excuse for them to leave, the realtor whipped around to speak over his shoulder at her.

“Really, ma’am, I don’t think you’re needed for this kind of decision.” Minoru leaned towards Nezu with a smile but still spoke loudly enough for Inko and Nemuri to hear. “I don’t mind you bringing your mistress along, sir,” and he glanced meaningfully at Nemuri, “but certainly you don’t plan to take a bitch’s advice on such an important decision?”

Still standing in the hallway, Nemuri crossed herself and turned around. Plausible deniability and all that.

Mr. Minoru, whose bloodline had only existed this long due to their shrewd ability to pick up on nonverbal cues and fold themselves into various shapes to appease those around them with more power, was a disappointment to his family and blundered onwards, unaware of Nezu’s soured expression. The stoat eyed the realtor with his lips pulled back in a tight sneer, small fangs glinting under the fluorescent lighting of the space. Mr. Minoru planted his hand on Nezu’s back and tried to usher him towards the packed-dirt backyard, but found his client completely immovable.

“Mr. Minoru.”

Nemuri flinched at her boss’s voice and instinctively took a step forward, toward the front door, a harsh presence pushing at her back. Minoru, in a faint, previously unseen flicker of preservation instincts, dropped his smile and leaned back from the stoat. He opened his mouth, but the shift of Inko’s clothing from the kitchen echoed in the tensely silent space, and his jaw snapped shut, any defenses or placating backtracking shriveling up in the back of his throat.

Nezu bristled, fur standing on end, his beady eyes glinting sharply. He remained standing, staring stiffly ahead, but he regarded Minoru with one eye as he spoke.

“Mr. Minoru, I feel we need to continue this conversation at a later date. Would you care to meet me at UA sometime this week? I’ll be sure to send a car for you.”

His voice was robotic and stiff, the automated announcement of a subway station or a futuristic execution. Minoru, to his credit, seemed slightly apprehensive about the offer, but nodded anyway. Mr. Minoru would not have survived a private “meeting” with Nezu, especially if he traveled in one of UA’s unregistered, unmarked personnel cars. Mr. Minoru’s family may not have survived it, either. Inko knew this, as did Nemuri, and Nezu felt his wife approach him and the realtor, quickly rounding the kitchen counter.

Inko brushed her hand against Nezu’s arm, gentle and unobtrusive, and Minoru spared her hardly a glance.

“I think we’re done here,” she announced. Minoru nodded once, and Nezu followed her as she turned, pacing wordlessly past Nemuri, through the door, to the car, not a backward glance for Minoru, not even a goodbye. Nemuri scurried after them, and Inko held Nezu’s door open as he got in, to be polite and supportive, sure, but also to make sure he didn’t turn and introduce Mr. Minoru to the firearm he kept in his personal car’s locked door compartment.

Inko climbed into the backseat beside Nezu, and Nemuri tore out of the neighborhood, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles and staring intently ahead.

The car speakers crackled to life.

“His address is in your email.”

Inko placed a hand on the seat between herself and Nezu.

“You will not kill that man.” She looked sharply at the car’s center console. “ Either of you.”

Nezu turned slightly to look out the window. “Of course I won’t, dear.”

“And you won’t have him killed?”

“Mm.”

Inko leaned back in her seat and stared at Nezu. The short silence was broken by Nezu’s phone buzzing, and he picked it up. He squinted at the screen for a short second, then cleared his throat.

“Mr. Minoru would like to express his concerns for my… relationships with you two, and assure me that the property has plenty of space if I am so inclined to… to sleep separately.” He stumbled over the words, reading slowly as if in sincere disbelief, and traded a look with Inko.

“ No ,” she said firmly, and he slumped back in his seat with a huff.

Chapter Text

Shouta Aizawa stayed very involved in his students’ lives. More than most teachers, certainly, since many hero-hopefuls had at least some baggage, and he’d paid close enough attention during the entrance exams to have a few names he was already looking into. 

When he met Mitsuki Bakugo, his concerns about her son only multiplied, and when he received the notification that the boy’s file had been changed, he quickly opened it to see that his guardians no longer included his mother at all. 

 With parent conferences quickly approaching, as UA had recently instituted a system for check-ins and introductions before the year even began, he was already curious about the remaining Bakugos. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the shrill voice of Hatsune Miku from his phone, and he picked up the call, setting the phone on his desk to spare his ears Kyros’s wrath. 

“SHOUTA SHOUTA SHOUTA!!! GUESS WHAT?!”

“What, Kyros?” 

A huff through the phone, and the vigilante’s modulator autotuned it into a strange riff. “Shouta, you are absolutely no fun. Let’s try this again: SHOUTA SHOUTA SHOUTA!!! GUESS WHAT?!”

Shouta heaved a sigh. “Let me guess, you’ve finally been arrested?”

Kyros gasped in mock offense, a thump sounding down the line, quickly followed by a pained-sounding cough; the man must’ve clutched his chest and accidentally punched himself. 

“Whatever you’re thinking I just did, I can guarantee you’re wrong,” he wheezed, and Shouta quirked an eyebrow. 

“So you didn’t just whack yourself in the chest?”

“No,” the vigilante indignantly replied. “I did not whack myself in the chest. But anyway , I did not get arrested! Actually, I have the honor of inviting you to a party!” 

Dread coiled in Shouta’s stomach. He absolutely did not want to know what Kyros was talking about, but he also knew he had no choice. 

“A party ? What kind of party?”

“A housewarming party!”

Shouta considered that for a moment, knowing that, based on what he’d learned, this would probably be a party hosted by Nezu and his elusive wife. 

“Will I finally meet you in person, Kyros?”

The vigilante laughed loudly. “No, silly, of course not! But you are going to meet my little brother!” 

“Your li- What? Brother?” Nezu had two sons? There were two mini-Nezus in the world?!

“I sent you the date and address! You’d better show!” 

“Wait, Kyros, wh-”

The phonecall ended with a click, and Shouta sat at his desk in the empty staff room. He stared at his phone, watching a text from Kyros pop up detailing the party’s details, for a few more seconds before planting his hands over his face, dragging them down with a groan. 

“God dammit , Kyros,” he sighed. He looked up at the camera by the ceiling. “And goddamn you too, you little rat.” 

Down the hall, Nezu snickered at his computer screen. 

The housewarming party had quite the elite guest list, encompassing quite a few of the nation’s top heroes who’d attended UA. From Inko’s side, she included Masaru and Katsuki, as well as some of her own friends from work, including a few doctors and nurses. 

Nearly all of the attendees had been shocked to hear that they would meet not only Nezu’s wife, but his younger son, though nobody dared ask why the implied elder son wasn’t in attendance. Izuku was all too happy to play the part of the hero fanboy, excitedly greeting each hero, surprising quite a few by welcoming them by name, both hero and civilian. 

When Masaru arrived, the large home was already swarming with media, and he ushered his son through the crowd. At the door, Masaru shook Izuku’s hand warmly, and Katsuki watched the two silently, earplugs drowning out much of the ambient noise. 

“It’s good to see you,” he said, leaning in to be heard. “I’m surprised you managed to move so quickly.” 

Izuku smiled, noticing the man’s change in demeanor. He seemed more confident, though certainly more tired as well. “Nezu is full of surprises,” he replied, and the man only raised an eyebrow. “He’s inside; I’m sure you’ll like him.” The man moved on, giftbag in hand, and Katsuki stepped forward, eyes downcast. There was still some scabbing on his forehead, and Izuku thought it would probably leave a small scar. 

“Izuku, I-” Katsuki’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat roughly. 

“Izuku, I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a dick to you, and for treating you like you were subhuman, and for putting up with how my mother and my friends treated you. And mostly…” Katsuki paused, then, to Izuku’s surprise, bowed to him, not a full ninety degrees, but a bow nonetheless. “I’m sorry for hurting you like I did.” When he straightened, he was scowling, but it lacked heat. 

Izuku nodded slowly, but he had to ask. “This is quite the change for only a few days.” 

Katsuki nodded as well. “I know. I just… What did you hear about my mom?”

“I heard enough.” 

“Right.” He looked aside. “Well, when the person who was your example for everything slams your head into a countertop, a lot of things suddenly seem up for debate.” He glanced at Izuku, guilt and that familiar anger warring on his features. “It doesn’t excuse anything I’ve done, but I feel like I’ve never really thought for myself.” His expression warped into a proper sneer, but it seemed more directed at himself than at Izuku. “It really pisses me off,” he spat. 

Izuku laughed; at least his temper hadn’t completely disappeared. “Well I’m glad you’re working on being less of an insufferable prick,” he said, and watched Katsuki snarl. “I’m stuck out here greeting the guests, but there are plenty of heroes inside if you want to fanboy.” 

“I don’t fanboy ,” he snapped, but he hurried inside anyway, throwing a quick wave over his shoulder. 

Izuku returned his attention to the guests streaming by, inclining himself to Edgeshot with a smile. “Glad you could make it, Kamihara-san.” The man, who was still in his hero costume, jerked back, looking down at Izuku in surprise, but he was already talking to Cementoss, who patted the boy’s shoulder and greeted him warmly. 

Inside, Nezu and Inko were seated on a sprawling couch, surrounded on all sides by heroes in costume and more than a few local celebrities, most of whom were staring at Inko in undisguised interest. The event had only just begun, but she’d yet to allow herself to be drawn into any conversations, instead sipping from a teacup matching the one in Nezu’s paw. It had taken weeks, but Nezu had finally managed to convince Inko to wear more luxurious clothing, and tonight she wore a floor-length gown that hugged her hips, violet silk draping over one shoulder and trailing down her back in a cape that pooled around her on the white couch cushions. Her hair was down, silky green layers falling over her shoulders with an amethyst clip on one side. Izuku and Nezu had both convinced her to wear it; she was embarrassed to be wearing something so fancy, but the general consensus thus far among the guests was that she was drop-dead gorgeous and way too kind-looking for the rat. 

Not that anyone would say that out loud while still on Japanese soil. 

This consensus changed suddenly when Hawks, who’d invited himself and had no sense of self-preservation, leaned over and, in an attempt to draw Inko into his conversation with Nezu, asked, “Pardon me, young lady, but may I ask what possessed you to settle for Nezu?” 

Every other conversation ground to a halt, and Inko gave the young hero an appraising once-over that must’ve activated some dormant common sense. 

“I don’t mean to offend,” he quickly tried to soothe, “I just meant that Nezu has never been known to seek out… er, romance , so you must really be something special to have caught his eye.” 

Inko accepted his second attempt at conversation, and set her teacup down, now finally empty. Nezu sipped his own tea and watched his wife. 

“I think I’ll take the well-intended compliment,” she said with a mirthless smile, and her gaze was suddenly sharp on the hero who felt very, very out of place. Nemuri, on Inko’s other side, leaned in excitedly. “I did not settle for my husband; I can think of quite a few people who would be…” she took a moment to narrow her eyes at Hawks, “... beneath me to have married, but he is not one of them.” 

Nemuri leaned further forward, laying a hand on Inko’s shoulder. “Don’t be too hard on the kid, Inko; I’m sure he meant well, and we all know you’re too good for Nezu anyway.” The rodent shot her a venomous look that was gone the next instant, but Inko’s smile was genuine, and she allowed herself to be accosted by Best Jeanist and Edgeshot, who showered her with compliments as Nezu drew Hawks into a quieter, whispered conversation to which the young hero contributed nothing but frightened nods. 

Izuku wandered inside just in time to see Hawks slide into an armchair across the room from the hosts, smile slightly strained. He caught a glimpse of Katsuki planted against one wall and quickly made his way over, ignoring the boy’s glare, and they spent the next hour excitedly pointing out each hero and definitely not competing over who had the most trivia and statistics about each one.

Chapter Text

Shouta Aizawa sat in his car and slammed his forehead against his steering wheel. His husband had already gotten out, and was waiting patiently for him so they could enter the party. They were late, which was intentional, because Shouta hadn’t wanted to attend and his husband appreciated a fashionably late entrance. 

He climbed out, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt. Despite his reputation, Shouta did in fact own nice clothes, and even he wouldn’t attend a party like this in his usual hero costume; his husband would kill him. 

Hizashi liked to tease that without him around, Shouta would never change out of his hero costume. Shouta argued that he did have one outfit he wore often besides his hero costume: a pair of black sweatpants and a plain black shirt that were both a slightly different shade than his usual black uniform. 

Mounting the manicured pathway up to the home, Shouta could already feel his energy being sapped from him. The paparazzi were held back by hired security, keeping the road clear for the heroes to park and enter, but driving through the crowd had been incredibly irritating. 

The path up was empty, though at the doors Shouta caught a glimpse of Nemuri already inside and knew instantly that she would be dragging him around all night. They entered, Hizashi immediately waving to several of his friends, and soon Shouta was soon passed off to a smiling Nemuri and Best Jeanist, who insisted that Shouta use his first name, Tsunagu, who were sitting in conversation with an attractive green-haired woman. 

The woman introduces herself as Inko, shaking his hand politely. 

“So, how do you know Nezu-san?” 

Shouta noted the honorific, assuming she was likely a hero’s wife or an acquaintance of the rat’s. He leaned back, staring over the woman’s head for several seconds as he struggled to figure out how to put it simply. He felt Nemuri snicker beside him and elbowed her. He slumped forward, meeting the woman’s gaze with a disgruntled look. 

“We’re colleagues ,” he admitted, the word acrid on his tongue, and watched her hold a hand over her mouth to hide a smile. He glanced out over the room, eyes finally landing on the delicate teacup on the table in front of Inko. 

It was of an incredibly fine quality, an intricate, hand-painted design forming a floral band around it. It matched her hair and eyes perfectly, the lavender accents perfectly complimenting her dress. Shouta straightened, paling, and looked over at her to see an all-too familiar glint in the woman’s eye. 

“I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Shouta Aizawa, from my husband and my son.” 

Nemuri and Tsunagu glanced at Shouta meaningfully, and he schooled his expression into as close to “friendly” as he could get. 

“I’m sure you have, ma’am. I must say, I was hoping to meet your son tonight.” 

Inko tilted her head in a way that was disturbingly reminiscent of Nedzu, and raised one hand to beckon someone on the other side of the room. “You won’t be meeting who you’re thinking of, but my young son Izuku has been excited to make your acquaintance.” 

Shouta looked to where he’d thought Inko had been waving, and instead felt a presence suddenly appear right next to him on the other side. He turned, and was suddenly nose-to-nose with a kid wearing the most psychotic, wild-eyed smile he’d ever seen. 

“You must be Eraserhead!” the boy, apparently Izuku, exclaimed. Shouta felt a hand grab his and shake it, and before he could even react Izuku was sitting between him and Nemuri, turning to shake her hand as well. 

“It’s so great to meet you, Midnight-san, I have so many questions!” Tsunagu leaned around Shouta to look at the boy, and Izuku turned to shake his hand as well with a much more mellow smile than the one Shouta had been subjected to. Inko sat back, watching them talk while Izuku grilled them on their quirks, their fighting styles, and several specific villains and fights. At first it was endearing, but it quickly became evident how much information this kid already seemed to have. He wanted minute details to fill in miniscule gaps in his knowledge, and as he flipped between pages in the notebook he’d pulled from inside his suit jacket, Shouta caught a glimpse of a sketch of himself, including measurements like his height, average weight, shoe size, and clothing sizes. 

Shouta wondered how old Nedzu was, and if he could even have a son this age. 

For a few seconds, staring at Izuku, he realized the boy seemed familiar. His hair, his voice, his face… Shouta had definitely seen him before. He just couldn’t quite place where. 

The night progressed rather smoothly. Nedzu returned, sitting beside his wife and chiming in with additional questions for Izuku to ask. Mirai wandered over before long, though Izuku didn’t offer to shake his hand, and seemed to take Izuku’s offhanded comment about Toshinori’s costume to be a declaration of war. 

Izuku and Mirai’s short-lived competition over who had the most All Might trivia gathered a small group around them, and several heroes reached over to pat Izuku’s shoulders in congratulations when Mirai was forced to back down. The man took it in stride, though, and let Izuku grill him on his fighting style and agency, though he noticeably avoided asking Mirai about his quirk. 

Hizashi, now standing behind Shouta, leaned forward to whisper to his husband. “Why isn’t he asking about Mirai’s quirk? It’s all any analyst wants to talk about.” 

Nedzu seemed to read Hizashi’s lips, glancing up at them with a smile. He waved a paw at Izuku, who paused to look at him, and the rodent spoke. 

“Present Mic would like to know why you don’t ask Sir Nighteye about his quirk, Izuku.” 

Izuku smiled brightly, tilting his head. “Why would I ask him about his quirk? I already know how it works.” 

Mirai scoffed. “That’s a bold statement, young man. Are you sure you know all there is to know about my quirk?” 

Izuku glanced up at him slyly, though avoided eye contact. “I know more than you think, sir, and anything I’d want to ask, you certainly wouldn’t discuss here.” Mirai’s expression tightened suspiciously, but then Ectoplasm appeared, and Izuku was sufficiently distracted, pressing him for details about his prosthetic leg. 

The night went smoothly, and Shouta spent most of it fighting growing waves of nausea as Nezu and his wife and son directed the room like conductors of a grand orchestra, conversations and information flowing around them. There were three of them, worse than he could’ve imagined, and still he had to worry about Kyros, always Kyros, the biggest thorn in his side. 

In the car, with Hizashi in the driver’s seat, Shouta let his head fall back against the seat. He couldn’t pinpoint any one thing that had happened all night, everything blurring together. He almost wished he’d had a few drinks; he felt sore all over, like every muscle in his body had been tense for hours. 

“What time is it?” 

“About 3 in the morning.” 

“Hizashi?” 

“Yes, dear?” 

“Don’t ever make me go back there.” 

“Alright, Shouta.” 

Early in the morning, Hizashi found himself awake, staring up at the ceiling. He’d fallen asleep rather quickly, and though it was dark in their bedroom, he knew, reasonably, that the sun was most certainly already up. They’d gotten home late, though, so today was going to be a nothing day, or so he’d thought. 

He rolled over to find not one single husband in his bed with him. He sat up, frowning, then turned to reach for his hearing aids before climbing out of bed and stretching with a groan. The apartment was quiet, not silent, but quiet, and Hizashi padded out into the hall. 

The kitchen light was on. He rounded the corner, blinking away spots in his vision at the sudden change in brightness, and found Shouta sitting at the counter. 

“Sho?” 

The man looked up. He looked exhausted, even moreso than usual, and Hizashi approached slowly. 

“You okay?” 

“He’s in my class, Hizashi,” Shouta grumbled. He didn’t sound utterly despondent, rather his tone was definitely the kind he used to gripe about Kyros or Ms. Joke, so Hizashi relaxed a bit. 

“Who is?” 

“That kid ,” he hissed, grip tightening on his mug of- yep, that was coffee, at… 6 in the morning. Following probably no sleep at all. Great. 

“Kid?” 

“Izuku, Nezu’s kid. Remember that green-haired kid from the entrance exam? The one that used a robot to break the record for villain points?” 

Hizashi blinked. He blinked again, then slammed his hands down on the counter, eyes wide. 

“ OH MY GOD THAT WAS NEZU’S KID .” 

Shouta nodded, dropping his head into his hands. “I have to teach Nezu’s son, Hizashi. I’m going to die. This will kill me.” 

Hizashi took a moment to compose himself and come to terms with this new version of reality before patting his husband’s shoulder consolingly. 

“You’ll be fine, Shouta. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“I have to, because I care.” 

“Hmph.”