Archive of Our Own

“Citizens of Japan can rest easy after a successful raid Saturday evening in Hosu ended in the arrest of The Hero Killer: Stain. Heroes and police collaborated to take the villain into custody, finally putting an end to Stain’s rampage that claimed the lives of seventeen and severely injured twenty-four Heroes.”

The news stations were all playing the same story. Toshinori had listened to the breaking headline the evening before with pride and was unsurprised to receive Mirai’s call the next morning. He was eager to hear what his old friend had to say about Young Midoriya, so he’d agreed to come down to Mirai’s agency when he’d offered. Now, sitting in a small, private meeting room watching the same headlines while he waited for his former sidekick to join him, Toshinori felt that same pride swell in his chest again. 

Idly, he tapped a few fingers against his chest as had become a habit ever since Young Midoriya had discussed his quirk with him on the beach. The girl had traced One For All’s path as she saw it with her quirk during her analysis, and perhaps it was silly, but he felt closer to the quirk—to Nana—whenever he touched the anchor point. 

The door opened as Mirai joined him at last, pulling Toshinori’s attention away from the broadcast. He hadn’t met with Mirai in person in years, hadn’t spoken with him for years after their falling out. If it hadn’t been for Young Midoriya’s warning about All For One, Toshinori might have continued to let the years pass by without reconnecting with his old friend. 

Another thing he owed the brilliant girl. 

“Mirai.” Toshinori smiled. “It’s good to see you again, my friend.”

“And you, All Might. Thank you for coming.” Mirai had tempered the reverence in his voice over the years, but he’d never entirely lost it. His old friend reached for a remote on the table and muted the TV, but his eyes lingered on the broadcast for a moment.

“How did the raid go? Beyond its success,” Toshinori asked. He knew Mirai planned to evaluate Young Midoriya during the operation; he was dying to know what the man thought.

“Exceptionally well, for the most part,” Mirai admitted. “I was pleasantly surprised.”

Toshinori smiled. “Young Midoriya impressed you then? I told you she would.”

“You did,” He agreed.

“Is she here? Her internship should have started today, right?”

“Yes. I’ve left her under Mirio’s tutelage to review old case files to get familiar with the process of proper documentation before she completes her after-action report while you and I discussed a few things.” 

“About Young Midoriya?”

Mirai made a faint noise of assent as he carefully set the remote down on the table and adjusted his glasses.“I wonder Toshinori if you know exactly what it is you’ve found.”

The musing from his former sidekick sent something close to unease through his veins. Had something happened? Was Young Midoriya in danger? “Did you see something?”

“I do not need Foresight to see the obvious. Midoriya Izumi possesses a rare intellect, skilled in both analysis and critical thinking. I witnessed her perform complicated mathematical calculations in her head in seconds, and deduce the true nature of Stain’s quirk from witness statements and an off-hand comment made during the fight. If that were not enough, she’s also compassionate and holds a strong sense of right and wrong. If what you’ve said about her combat abilities is true as well… With the right training, she could be precisely what we need.”

Toshinori blinked in surprise. That almost sounded like Mirai might possibly be endorsing Midoriya as a candidate to receive One For All. He knew that Mirai had already found a young Hero in training that he believed worthy of being All Might’s successor. Could it be that he’d changed his mind? The thought had certainly crossed Toshinori’s mind several times, but he wasn’t comfortable passing the quirk on now that he knew All For One was still alive. 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, my friend. So long as All For One is free–”

“That,” Mirai interrupted, “is a problem that now has a solution.”

“No.”

“She led the heroes directly to Stain. I know she offered you the same; now that we know she’s capable of finding him–”

“And if he finds her in return?” The thought of All For One looking for Young Midoriya was enough to chill his blood. In an effort to banish the thought from his mind, Toshinori waved the idea away harshly. “We do not know what quirks he may have accumulated over the years. If he has a way to know that someone is looking, that someone could potentially find him, I fear he would stop at nothing to eliminate that threat.”

“If we do nothing, we allow him to continue his machinations unopposed. Your time as the Symbol of Peace dwindles every day; you must use what time you have wisely. Pass One For All on to Mirio and train the boy–”

“Toogata? Were you not just saying Young Midoriya–”

“Of course not.” Mirai shook his head. “Mirio is part of UA’s Big Three. He’s used the experience gained from work study to turn himself into an outstanding Hero. With One For All and some guidance on how to use it, I believe he could be stronger than you were in your prime. He has what it takes to be the next Symbol of Peace.

“Midoriya will be a brilliant Investigation Hero. Her deductive reasoning, analysis, and quirk are well suited to it. She has the skills to aid Mirio the same way I aided you. Working together, the two of them would be a formidable team.”

Toshinori turned the idea over in his mind tentatively. It was true that Young Midoriya reminded him of Mirai, it was the reason he’d reached out to his old friend to get the girl an internship with him. He also knew that Young Midoriya had no desire to go into Spotlight Heroics. If he were to pass One For All onto her, she would be forced into a position she did not want; a symbol needed to be in the public eye to be effective. Setting her up to fill a position similar to Mirai’s instead would allow her to fly mostly under the radar and still utilize her incredible talents to One For All’s benefit.

Mirio Toogata was not a bad choice either. Mirai had found and trained a talented young Hero. Strong, charismatic, enthusiastic, with a good heart. Toshinori had been leaning toward agreeing to Mirai’s proposal before he learned All For One was still alive. 

“I don’t disagree,” Toshinori conceded, “but All For One is still too dangerous.”

“And he will only get more so the longer we wait,” Mirai coaxed. “If we act soon, you won’t have to face him alone as you did last time, and Mirio will have the benefit of your presence in the fight. Two holders of One For All could succeed where one has always failed, but that won’t be an option if you wait until you are no longer capable of fighting at all.”

Toshinori sighed, unable to refute the logic behind the argument, but there was still something he might be able to use to dissuade his former sidekick. “And what of your vision?”

“If you are not alone, then it will not be the fight that I saw, and so will not be your end.” 

Not that Toshinori would have run from it if it were. He’d hoped the reminder of his foreseen demise might have been enough to put an end to the discussion, but he could tell Mirai was stubbornly sure of his plan. That it wasn’t a bad plan made it very difficult to find a reasonable objection. 

“Very well, Mirai, but I will not risk Young Midoriya until I am sure Toogata is capable of handling the power effectively. If we do this, I want them both as ready as possible.”

“Acceptable. The sooner he receives One For All, the sooner he can master it. We should not delay.”

Toshinori nodded, resigned. “Bring him to me.”

“The raid was fronted by a surprising choice, Present Mic—ranked 96 on the most recent Billboard Chart and host of the popular radio show Put Your Hands Up. While not previously part of the Hero Killer case, Present Mic was the primary voice in putting together the raid, gathering a group of Heroes that specialize in stealth and apprehension to work with Hosu police which ultimately led to Stain’s capture.” 

Listening to the news praise Yamada-san for a successful raid should have filled Tenya with a sense of pride and purpose. A Hero—someone he knew personally—had helped take down a dangerous villain. It was a great accomplishment and Yamada-san was a credit to the profession he had dedicated his future to.

He felt no pride. No purpose.

Tenya sat listlessly in the uncomfortable hospital chair at his brother’s bedside, and all he felt was empty.

That was supposed to have been him.

Stain had stolen Tensei’s future, nearly robbed him of his life, Tenya should have been the one to avenge his brother’s name. The righteous, boiling anger that had seared his veins since hearing of the attack had nowhere to go now. No outlet or release. 

It left him feeling…hollow.

“It’s a relief, right?” Tensei smiled at him. “Especially with you interning in Hosu; I would have worried for you if the raid hadn’t gone down the way we wanted.”

Tenya had wanted to take out the Hero Killer himself. Nothing about the raid had gone the way he wanted.

“It would have been better if they had caught him before the Sports Festival, before…” Tenya trailed off, unable to give voice to the loss.

Tensei shook his head and put a comforting hand on Tenya’s head. “You gotta look on the bright side–”

“Bright side?! What could possibly be good about you being attacked?” 

“If I hadn’t been attacked, the Hero Killer would still be out there hurting and killing others. Yes, my time as Ingenium is over, but so is Stain’s time as the Hero Killer.” The hand on his head turned into a fist and Tensei rubbed his knuckles over Tenya’s head in a noogie. “And unlike Stain, I have someone who can carry on my name.”

He pushed his brother’s hand away. What had he done to earn his brother’s mantle? Nothing. He was too late to avenge him; Tenya didn’t have the right to carry on the name Ingenium. He was too ashamed to even tell Tensei he hadn’t taken the name.

“What do you mean if it hadn’t been you…?” Did Tensei mean his friends’ involvement? Obviously Yamada-san and—presumably—Aizawa-san hadn’t been on the Hero Killer case before. If it had been that easy for them to catch Stain, why did they wait until after Tensei nearly died? 

Tensei gave him a conspiratorial look and made a show of looking around to make sure no one else was nearby before gesturing Tenya closer. “Can you keep a secret?”

When he was younger, Tenya believed secrets were no better than lies of omission. The first time Tensei had asked him if he could keep a secret, little Tenya had scolded his brother for lying and asking him to lie by sharing his secret. His brother had sat him down and explained that sometimes secrets were necessary, especially in Hero work. Some secrets were meant to keep others safe or to make others happy, and that was okay.

The secret Tensei had wanted to share with him that day had been something inconsequential, which had not fallen under either example he’d just taught Tenya was okay, but Tensei had only laughed when Tenya had proceeded to scold him again.

Tenya got the feeling this secret was not so trivial, however.

Leaning in, Tenya nodded. 

“It had to be me because I know you. Your friend is the one who found Stain,” Tensei whispered. 

Sitting back, Tenya wracked his brain trying to think of who Tensei could possibly mean. Tenya didn’t have many he considered friends, and he was fairly sure none of them had quirks that would help locate a villain. Unless… there was a person in Tenya’s class that had a quirk that might have worked, but he didn’t think that he would normally count her among his friends.

“Midoriya?”

Tensei shushed him, but the smile on his face meant Tenya was right. Midoriya had found Stain.

What gave her the right? Stain hadn’t attacked her family, hadn’t stolen her brother’s future. Tenya did not appreciate her meddling, sticking her presumptuous nose in matters that did not concern her. His plans to intern in Hosu, hunt the villain down himself, and make him pay were ruined. Tenya was supposed to be the one to take Stain down; what was he supposed to do now?

“I did not ask her to do that.” Tenya tried to keep the facade of calm, but given the slight pinching between Tensei’s brows, he was not wholly successful. “Midoriya inserted herself in a family matter without consulting me.”

“Would you have let her help if she’d come to you?” His brother watched him carefully; he knew he should say yes, but the lie caught in his throat long enough that Tensei heard the truth in his silence. “Damn it, Tenya.”

“It wasn’t her place–”

“Whose was it then? Yours?” Tensei swore softly under his breath. “When I heard you chose to intern in Hosu, I didn’t want to believe you were foolish enough to come here for revenge, but apparently I’m the fool for thinking you were smarter than that.”

“You were one of the best Heroes! You were my Hero. Stain had no right to attack you–”

“Of course he didn’t have the right! But that doesn’t give you the right to hunt him down in some quest for vengeance. That is not what a Hero does, Tenya.”

“It’s what a brother does!” Tenya’s yell echoed off the walls of the room, temporarily silencing them both. The last thing he wanted, however, was to draw attention to their discussion, so he wrangled his volume down to a more respectable level. The emotions roiling inside him needed a release, though. Finding they couldn’t come through his voice, they made their way down his cheeks in angry tears. “How could I be worthy of carrying on the name Ingenium, or call myself your brother, if I sat by and did nothing? ”

Tensei shook his head, a profound sadness on his face. “Alone, unlicensed, and with less than a semester of training? If you had managed to find Stain, the only thing you would have done is gotten yourself killed.”

“I could have tried–”

“No revenge is worth your life, Tenya. Not to me, and especially not for me. You are my brother. Full stop. You don’t need to earn it.” Tensei’s hand made its way back to Tenya’s hair, sliding down until the large hand encompassed the side of his head gently and wiped his tears away with a thumb. “I would be proud to see you carry on the name Ingenium and become the Hero I know you can be.”

It was too much. All the anger, the grief, the fear had built up so much, to suddenly be swept away by an overwhelming wave of relief knocked the breath from his lungs. Hitching sobs were all he could manage for a few minutes as he clutched his brother’s wrist and pressed his face into the warm, calloused hand on his cheek. 

As his sobs finally started to quiet, Tensei asked, “You feeling better?”

Tenya nodded and started pulling himself together, reluctantly freeing his brother’s wrist. “Thank you, Nii-san.”

“Anything for you,” Tensei smiled and ruffled Tenya’s hair one more time before taking his arm back. “I was serious about it being a secret, Tenya. Midoriya and Shouta both agreed to keep her name out of the media; you can’t tell anyone.”

Of course. It shouldn’t surprise Tenya that Midoriya had opted to keep her name out of it; the girl had previously stated she wanted to go Underground, that she didn’t care about fame. She’d seen a classmate in pain and had wanted to help. She wanted to be a Hero to save people, had earned her way into the Hero course purely through Rescue Points, all she wanted to do was protect and help others. He didn’t always agree with some of her methods, but he couldn’t deny that she had a truly heroic spirit.

Tenya had lost his way in the wake of his grief and anger, but he wanted to be a Hero. With his brother’s support, and maybe Midoriya as a guide, he hoped he could find his way back onto the right path.

“In a press conference held at the precinct shortly after Stain’s arrest, Present Mic and Hosu Chief of Police Kenji Tsuragamae confirmed rumors of a UA Hero student participating in the raid. When asked for more information regarding the student or their quirk, Present Mic and Chief Tsuragamae both refused to answer, but the presence of a UA student does potentially explain Present Mic’s involvement. The Voice Hero isn’t known for his stealth, and it’s unclear exactly what role he took on during the raid itself, but the Hero is a teacher at the acclaimed institution. Some believe the UA student may be Present Mic’s intern or protege; the details, however, are unknown at this time.”  

Speculation regarding Midoriya was expected, if unwelcome. Hizashi made for a good distraction; she should be safe so long as they kept sniffing around the wrong Hero. With a sigh, Shouta muted the news. The captions still scrolled across the screen, just in case, but so far they weren’t revealing anything new. 

The raid itself had gone just about as well as Shouta could have hoped; Stain was in custody, no one was dead, and Midoriya hadn’t disobeyed any of his orders. The rest of it though… After Sir Nighteye invited himself onto the task force, Shouta asked Nemuri and Hizashi to observe how the man interacted with Midoriya. There was something off about the Investigation Hero’s interest in his student, and he wanted to know what the man was after. 

“You know, when you came to me with this, I thought you were just being overprotective.” Nemuri took pleasure in teasing him at every available opportunity, and he knew she would jump to that conclusion, which was why he’d gone to her with his concern. That she wasn’t teasing him now meant she’d seen something.

“Start from the beginning.” 

“At first, he seemed fairly cold,” Nemuri recalled. The furrow of her brow told Shouta she wasn’t pleased. “He was definitely there to evaluate her, but I don’t think he was expecting her to impress him.”

“Yeah,” Hizashi scoffed. “I picked up on that too. Didn’t take long for him to change his tune though.”

“Did you know she’d put a string on every member of the infiltration team?” Shouta shook his head in answer to Nemuri’s question; he hadn’t had the chance to debrief with Midoriya yet. “She was tracking everyone’s movements in real-time. I had no idea so much math went into what she did.”

Midoriya was pretty forthcoming with what her quirk was capable of, though not overly detailed in the precise mechanics. Shouta didn’t recall her mentioning anything about maths, but taking a moment to think about it, it made sense. She had top marks in Ecto’s class, too, which also made sense if she had to use it as often as Nemuri implied.

“She calculated those distances entirely on her own in seconds. No calculator. I was a little impressed myself,” Hizashi admitted. 

“It got his attention, but that was nothing compared to when she deduced Stain’s quirk.” 

The blond turned to Shouta, eyes alight with pride despite the seriousness of his tone. “It went way beyond the simple analysis I relayed; it was easily a professional-level breakdown of the precise method and mechanics of Stain’s quirk.”

“You should have seen him, Shou.” Nemuri shook her head, arms crossed as she glared at the floor. “Nighteye was… Hungry. Like something he’d been desperately looking for suddenly dropped right in his lap.”

Shouta ran a hand over his face; sometimes he hated being right. “He wants her for something.” 

“He’s claimed her,” Hizashi stated, frustration darkening his tone further. “You heard him at the station. He called her his mentee, not his intern.”

“I’m all for Hero’s finding a protege, but it should be a consensual relationship. He never discussed it with Midoriya.” 

“Too busy trying to turn her against Shouta to bother.” Hizashi’s scowl morphed into a smirk as he added, “Not that it worked.”

Shouta felt the boiling anger Nighteye had provoked at the station bubble up in his chest again at the reminder. The heavy-handed attempt to give Midoriya what she wanted by going over his head, completely disregarding her personal safety, was infuriating. Shouta had seen how uncomfortable the whole thing had made Midoriya. If Nighteye had hoped to ingratiate himself with that stunt, he’d failed. 

“I’m sure he thought he was going to win her over by offering her the chance to help, but he went about it the wrong way,” Shouta mused. 

“I think he failed to take into account that you and Midoriya already have a string—if he even knows. Considering your reputation… It’s certainly unusual for a student to get so attached to you so quickly.”

Shouta rolled his eyes. His reputation as UA’s resident hardass was well-earned, purposefully so, but no other class had gone through what this year’s Class 1-A had. Shouta had put his life on the line for his students only days into the semester; he wasn’t unaware of the effect that likely had on them. Midoriya, in particular, as the girl had risked her life for him in return. 

He was also not unaware of the effect that had had on him.

Shouta knew he was attached; there was no getting around it or denying it. While it wouldn’t affect his ability to teach her—favoritism was counterproductive and illogical—he knew he tended to be protective of the people he was close to. Most of those people were adults and Heroes and capable of taking care of themselves for the most part, but while Midoriya was more capable than most fifteen-year-olds, she wasn’t a Hero yet and seemed particularly good at finding trouble.

Nighteye’s interest could be more trouble. 

“I don’t know that he would have cared, even if he knew. Nighteye has a habit of believing he knows best and that the outcome is a foregone conclusion.” Shouta had been on a handful of operations with the Investigation Hero since he’d broken away from All Might; his condescending superiority had been obvious and made him particularly frustrating to work with.

Hizashi pressed his hands together and tapped his fingers to his lips a few times before sighing and looking Shouta in the eye. “While it’s not my favorite character trait, maybe that’s all we’re dealing with. He decided he wanted to mentor Midoriya and just…skipped ahead a few tracks. Nothing nefarious, just over-eager.”

“Do you believe that?” Shouta asked, careful to keep any doubt or judgment out of his voice. 

“No.” Both Hizashi and Shouta turned to Nemuri as the rejection left her painted lips. 

Shouta tensed. “You sound very sure.” 

“There was one more thing; something Midoriya said to herself after Stain was arrested.” Nemuri met Shouta’s eyes and made the face he dreaded, the one that told him she was about to tell him something he was not going to like. “Midoriya said she hoped after seeing the raid’s success, that All Might would change his mind and let her help him find his nemesis.”

“What?” Hizashi exclaimed in English, not quite using his quirk. “Who would that even– You don’t think it’s the villain that did… that to All Might, do you?” 

“Who else could it be?” Nemuri refuted. 

Shouta winced, picturing the gruesome scar Yagi had shown them as he’d explained his time limit and injury to the very shocked UA staff when they’d learned he’d be joining them. If the man had a string to a villain, logically, it would be the one who’d irrevocably damaged him. 

The fight had been six years ago, the same year Nighteye stopped working as a sidekick and opened his own agency; Shouta would bet something about that fight had caused the rift between sidekick and Hero, the timing was too conspicuous. Now Nighteye wanted Midoriya’s help tracking down the villain who’d nearly killed the Symbol of Peace. 

Heroics was a dangerous career, everyone got hurt at some point, but there was a difference between acceptable risk and suicidal recklessness. If All Might had already told her no, it seemed the Symbol of Peace grasped the concept, but Nighteye might not have the same caution. He’d already demonstrated carelessness regarding Midoriya’s safety. Shouta didn’t trust him.

There was also very little he could do to stop him. 

The precedent had already been set for Midoriya to assist in villain apprehension without a license by allowing her onto the raid to catch Stain, and she was already at her internship with Nighteye. There was no guarantee that Nighteye would even inform Shouta if he took Midoriya to hunt down All Might’s nemesis; he certainly didn’t regard his position as her homeroom teacher as one of authority.

His only consolation was that Nighteye wouldn’t— couldn’t— move forward without All Might. 

Shouta sighed wearily. “I’ll talk to Yagi. Hopefully, I can get him to agree that Midoriya should at least have her provisional license before hunting down any more supervillains.”

“Yeah, I think she’s filled her quota for villain encounters for her first year.”

Nemuri shook her head and slapped the blond on the back of the head, eliciting a yelp and a glare. “Don’t jinx it.”

“No details regarding the exact nature of the unnamed student’s involvement were provided during the press conference; when challenged on the decision to deny the Hero student the notoriety and accolades that should rightly be theirs for whatever role they played in the Hero Killer’s arrest—a claim that would surely boost the future Hero’s status when they graduate—Present Mic stated that the student’s safety took precedent, citing a desire to protect the Hero-hopeful from possible retribution from any fans of the Hero Killer wishing to follow in his bloody footsteps.”

Inasa felt very passionately about a great many things. He believed that if something was worthy of his attention, it was worthy of his full attention, and to commit anything less than his all was a waste. It was that attitude in mind he threw himself into his chosen future.

He had pushed himself from a young age to train his mind, body, and quirk to get to where he was now. UA’s Class 1-A, welcomed into the sacred institution on recommendation. Heroics wasn’t a safe career, but it was a good one. A worthy one. It ought to be pursued with fervor by anyone serious about their future as a Pro. He didn’t understand how someone could prioritize their own safety or prefer anonymity over boldly standing before the world and declaring themselves a protector. It was part of the job to risk life and limb to make the citizens of Japan safer, but it seemed not everyone understood that the way he did. 

As excited as he’d been to join UA’s Hero course, the actual experience had not been what he’d expected. There were several excellent, passionate classmates in 1-A, but there were also a fair few that didn’t seem to approach Heroics with the zeal Inasa thought necessary. That alone, Inasa could have accepted; they would either learn or leave eventually. What he hadn’t anticipated was the same lackluster attitude from his teacher.

Aizawa-sensei was…not Inasa’s definition of a Hero. He slept in class, lied to them, and the only time he’d seen the man show any emotion was when he scolded someone or taunted them. Inasa doubted the man was capable of producing the stellar Heroes the school was reputed for. 

These thoughts weren’t new, but they’d been whispers in the back of his mind up until now. While on his internship, Inasa finally got to experience what it was like to learn from someone who was passionate about Heroics. 

As he shared the evening meal in the agency cafeteria with his supervising agent he listened to the Heroes and Sidekicks jeer at the media coverage surrounding the Hero Killer’s arrest a few days ago.

“You don’t happen to know which student they’re talking about?” Solar Flare, his supervisory agent, asked.

“I do not,” Inasa confirmed. “It is a shame they could not take credit for their actions.”

Solar Flare hummed in agreement. “They’re really hobbling that student, keeping them out of the press like that.”

“Not to mention the other Heroes involved. Surely a Pro should have little fear of fanatics coming after them.”

“That’s probably a preference on their part.” With a long stretch to throw her trash away, Solar Flare continued, “I will never understand Unders. Mediaphobic, sketchy bastards. They get the job done, don’t get me wrong, but then they just slip away back into the night? Doesn’t make sense. Seems to me they’re more likely to get mistaken for a vigilante or villain swooping in and away without regard for recognition. Not a great way to make the public feel safe, you know?”

“My homeroom teacher is Underground,” Inasa said. “Eraserhead.”

Solar Flare winced. “Shit, kid. Eraser is the Under. Can’t imagine he’s got a lot to teach a promising Spotlight like you.”

Inasa didn’t disagree, but he felt it was disrespectful to say so. His supervisory agent seemed to pick up on the agreement in his silence though, and she leaned forward, watching him carefully. 

“You know Gale Force, if you’re not happy at UA, there are other options.”

Inasa had come in on recommendations, it was an honor granted to less than a handful of students per year, but… If he wasn’t getting the most out of his education, could he really say he was giving it his all? If not, should he leave UA? Just like that? Just because he found one teacher offensive? Inasa was a passionate Hero in training, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to muster enthusiasm in the face of Aizawa-sensei’s teaching methods.

“I want to get the most out of my education! I should give nothing less than 100%.”

“And you need teachers that will help you,” Solar Flare smiled. “I think I know of just the place.”

“While the actions of Heroes and police this weekend are to be lauded, many are wondering why it took so long for the Hero Killer to finally face justice. The answer, in part, may have to do with the identity of the Hero Killer. Before turning to a life of villainy, Chizome Akaguro was a Hero student who eventually grew disillusioned with Heroes and society’s veneration of the profession, ultimately dropping out of school before graduation. After learning the skills necessary to join one of Japan’s most challenging and perilous professions, it’s little wonder Stain was as dangerous as he was.”

Touya wasn’t lonely while the brats were out on internship. He wasn’t. Inko was lonely; Touya was only over at the Midoriya apartment to keep his mother-adjacent figure from staying in her quiet apartment all day by herself. It had nothing to do with the fact that this was the longest he’d gone without seeing any of the brats since meeting Izumi and Katsuki eight years ago.

Anyone who claimed otherwise was asking to get roasted.

“It’s been four days.” Inko shuffled into the living room, handing Touya a steaming mug of coffee as she passed his chair, settling herself on the couch with her own mug as she frowned gently at the TV. “How long are they going to cover the same story?”

“They want to remind everyone that the Heroes finally did their job.” He rolled his eyes as he took a sip. “Of course, the real story is that they couldn’t do their job without an unlicensed first-year. Can’t have that getting out though; might make the Heroes look bad.”

“She doesn’t care about the fame; she wouldn’t want her name in the news for this, even if there weren’t safety concerns,” Inko reminded him.

“Safety concerns,” Touya scoffed. “Heroes have done a bang-up job of keeping her—keeping any of them—safe.”

The TV continued to play as the two of them silently drank their coffee, stewing in the bitterness. Or maybe Touya was projecting.

“You know, I always wondered why you helped Izu and the boys get into UA when you despise Heroes so much.” Green eyes watched him gently, without judgment or rebuke as she made her observation.

“Yeah, well.” Touya hid from those eyes in the dregs of his coffee. “Can’t exactly blame me, can you?” 

“They aren’t all like he was.” 

Even the vague reference to his flaming dumpster bin of a sperm donor had Touya’s face twitching with contempt.

“More than you want to admit are exactly like he was. They just lacked the opportunity or clout to do what he did. Heroes,” Touya sneered. “Most of them are in it for the money, the fame, the power, or some combination of the three. They’re given a license to do what they want when they want and the Commission is more than happy to cover up or excuse shit that would get anyone else thrown in jail to rot.”

“I believe I’ve heard a similar opinion recently.” Inko gestured faintly toward the TV. “Be honest, Touya. Do you support the Hero Killer?”

Touya sniffed defensively and sank a little further into his chair as he bored holes into the coffee table with his tumultuous gaze. He couldn’t deny that a lot of what Stain had been preaching made sense to him. He saw the corruption of Heroes, he knew it intimately. The system was broken and it seemed to him that the people in charge preferred it that way. Part of him would relish the complete and utter destruction of Hero society.

Sighing, Touya set his own mug down. “I see where Stain’s coming from, I won’t lie.”

“But…?”

But, the other part of him—unfortunately, the larger part—had hope for the next generation. Maybe it was naive to put so much faith in a couple of teenagers, but it was hard not to. Izumi was a force of nature. It wasn’t her quirk, it wasn’t her combat prowess, it wasn’t even her intelligence. As remarkable as all of those were, the most impressive—the most dangerous—thing about Izumi was her charisma. She was a leader, whether she knew it or not; when she spoke, people listened. She would be the example that other Heroes followed, and the public would probably never even know her name. They’d know Shouto and Katsuki though; those two would top the charts without a doubt. Exceedingly powerful and talented, and unwaveringly devoted to Izumi, they would be the public face of the change they all wanted to bring and woe be any opposition in their way.

“But,” he shrugged, “his plan never would have worked. Izumi’s has a much better chance.”

Inko shot him an incredulous look. “That’s it?”

“What?” He smirked. Inko’s look morphed into one of motherly disappointment, and Touya leaned forward to elaborate. “If you think about it, fundamentally, their goals are the same: reform Hero society with a focus on what it should mean to be a Hero. Something I can fully get behind. Their methods differ–”

“Obviously.”

“–but if you’re like me, and you don’t give a fuck about corrupt fakes getting their comeuppance, then the only thing that matters is which plan has a higher chance of success.”

It was Inko’s turn to sigh. “That was a little more honesty than I was expecting.”

Relaxing back in his chair again, Touya gave Inko a nonchalant wave of his arms. “Honesty and ass-kicking, Inko. If you ask for it, then I have to let you have it.”

“You got that from Izumi,” Inko chuckled lightly.

“It’s a good policy.”

“As to the claims that Stain frequently made ascribing his actions to a cleansing of false or unworthy Heroes, neither the police nor the HPSC has found any substantial evidence to support those claims. The Heroes that were attacked are under no suspicion of any kind, and authorities are encouraging the public to put the ravings of a clearly disturbed man from their minds. Despite the questions that still linger about Stain and the operation that successfully brought him to justice, one thing is certain: The citizens and Heroes of Japan are safer thanks to the actions of these brave men and women.”

The sudden arrest of the Hero Killer had taken a potentially valuable piece off the board. Sensei had hoped the villain could be persuaded to join the League. Someone of Stain’s level would have seriously boosted Tomura’s reputation, and his followers would have flocked to them in short order, replenishing their severely depleted stock of minions. 

Instead, the Heroes cheated and got help tracking the Hero Killer down. 

After the news broke over the weekend, Sensei promised to find out what had happened, what the news wasn’t reporting. The involvement of an unnamed Heroling had caught his interest; Tomura didn’t care beyond knowing who he should dust for disrupting Sensei’s plans.

It had taken a few days, longer than Tomura had expected, but Sensei had finally found someone willing to talk. Someone on the inside. The media and the Hero Commission could boast all they wanted that Heroes were pillars of truth and justice, but Tomura knew better. Stain had known better too. The reminder of the theft of their potential party member made his neck itch, and he growled in frustration as he scratched. 

“Tomura Shigaraki.” Kurogiri’s calm reprimand made him huff, but he dropped his hands back to the bar.

“Which brat was it?”

“An interesting one.” Sensei’s voice through the TV on the end of the bar was distorted slightly from the static. He preferred it when Kurogiri took him to Sensei directly, but that didn’t happen very often anymore. “I believe you are familiar with her, Tomura. Midoriya Izumi.”

Tomura growled as his hands flew back to his neck to resume their scratching. “From the USJ; she brought All Might and kept us from killing Eraserhead. She led the Heroes to Stain?”

“So it would seem,” Sensei mused.

“She’s dust .”

“Do we know how her quirk works?” Kurogiri asked.

“Our man at UA isn’t as informed on the details of her quirk as I would like, but he has brought us something…very interesting. I believe we may have exactly what we need to bring the Hero Killer’s followers to us, regardless of the man’s regrettable incarceration.”

Tomura’s fingers stilled. “What?”

“A fascinating document, written by Midoriya, in fact. The girl’s opinion of Heroics is not so far removed from Stain’s.”

That didn’t seem possible. The brat has stood up against both Tomura and Kurogiri at the USJ to keep Eraserhead safe, and she was responsible for the Hero Killer’s arrest. Why was she at UA trying to become a Hero if she believed as they did?  

“She’s a Hero brat,” Tomura objected.

Faint chuckling crackled through the static over the TV’s connection. “She has ideals, certainly. It’s possible she simply hasn’t been shown another way to achieve her goals. With a little guidance… Who knows?”

“You think she’d make a good party member?” 

“Possibly. What do you think Tomura? The League is yours, after all, the choice is yours.”

Sensei had been on him to carefully consider everything, to see opportunity where he normally saw failure, and to not be over-hasty in his actions. To be a good party leader, he had to be able to plan ahead and account for any outcome. The loss of Stain was annoying, but if Sensei said he had another way to get more followers thanks to Midoriya, Tomura believed him. To think that brat was at all like the Hero Killer was laughable, but he couldn’t deny she had been fierce at the USJ. Annoying at the time, but he could respect talent and skill when he saw it. The Sports Festival hadn’t shown him anything about her quirk, but he’d seen more of those skills and she’d beaten droves of other Hero brats that had been using the quirks without using hers. 

She was also connected to All Might in some way, which could be very dangerous or very helpful if they managed to get her to join them. It would be so satisfying to twist a disciple of All Might to their cause, especially if he could rub it in the Symbol of Peace’s face that one of his precious students was now his. 

It might be worth it just for that thought alone. 

“If you think it’s possible, Sensei, I want her in the League. I want to see All Might’s face when he sees how we’ve corrupted her against him,” Tomura grinned, eagerly picturing the devastation on the buffoon’s face.

Sensei’s laugh was dark and pleased. “I couldn’t agree more, Tomura. You’re learning well.”

“We’ll need a plan to separate her from the Heroes and more minions.”

“Yes,” Sensei agreed. “Leave recruitment to me. I’ll get the word out and have Giran bring you any potential allies we catch. For now, I want you to read this and think of how you will convince Midoriya her goals are more easily accomplished working with us.”

Kurogiri reached through a portal and pulled out a file, setting it in front of Tomura on the bar. He slipped the attached picture of Midoriya from the file and held it up as he considered the girl. Giggling to himself, he maliciously thought she’d looked better with her long hair. The fear in her eyes when he’d decayed her hair had been so satisfying. Ally or not, he’d definitely remind her of it the next time he saw her. 

Setting the picture aside for now, Tomura flipped open the folder, surprised to find what looked like a lengthy essay alongside her school records. This must have been what Sensei had found interesting. Curiosity piqued, he took the fifteen-page document over to a more comfortable seat and settled in to read.