Chapter Text
They know.
That’s the only thing in Yuuga’s head, running on repeat as he sprints across UA’s campus.
He doesn’t know how, but they know.
They know.
They know.
Miraculously, his key-card still unlocks Heights Alliance’s front door. They probably weren’t expecting him to run.
He should’ve known something was wrong by the odd, unreadable looks that Aizawa-sensei kept giving him all morning, by the way Present Mic wouldn’t look at him at all, even though he was usually a star student in English class.
He digs into his overstuffed closet for his just-in-case go-bag, the one he’d prayed he would never need. Everything’s still in it: cash, clothes, toiletries, and of course, that. He doesn’t know why he brought it to campus in the first place, but like hell is he leaving it behind.
Aizawa-sensei had stopped him as the rest of the class left for Gym Gamma, and it felt like he was staring into Yuuga’s soul. Sensei’s grip on his shoulder seemed like it was supposed to be comforting, but it was far too tight. He led Yuuga solemnly down the hallways towards the principal’s office.
Yuuga shrugs off his blazer and drops it to the floor. The tie goes as well. He doesn't need them anymore. He unbuttons the bottom of his uniform shirt so that his belt isn’t obstructed. He throws on a black windbreaker– unzipped– and a pair of sneakers. He slips it into the windbreaker’s pocket.
Please, please don’t let him need it.
When they arrived at the principal’s office, he was met with far too many pairs of eyes. There was the Principal, of course, smile unwavering. Present Mic, arms crossed and refusing to look at the door. Midnight had a sad smile for him, and All Might– All Might, who should’ve been with the class at gym gamma– had a stony expression.
He only realized what was happening when his eyes landed on the other two occupants of the room- Detective Tsukauchi and another police officer that he didn’t know.
Six pairs of eyes– plus Aizawa-sensei’s– analyzing his every twitch, every flinch. Aizawa-sensei’s hand still on his shoulder.
“Aoyama-”
His brain didn’t have time to process who was speaking before he was blindly firing his quirk into the room. He broke Sensei’s grip and ran.
They know.
By the time he reaches the front door, there’s an alarm ringing throughout campus. Not the one from the beginning of the year, the one he’d used to steal All Might’s schedule– this one told all students to stay in their classrooms rather than evacuate.
He was halfway to the front gate when he remembers that 1-A is terrible at doing what they’re told.
“Aoyama!”
He flinches at the sound of his own name.
There they are, all costumed and beautiful, his classmates.
Former classmates.
And running up behind them are his teachers.
Former teachers.
How could he have been so stupid? How could he let himself believe that he could have an actual life, one free from his influence? That his dirty little secret would just stay buried forever?
The teachers push themselves to the front.
“Students, back away,” Eraserhead says. His eyes are glowing, so Navel Laser is erased. “We have this handled.”
“What is going on?” Iida demands. “As class president, I have the duty to protect my classmates. Please, let me deescalate the situation.”
Noble, wonderful Iida who didn’t let him give up at the licensing exam.
Present Mic lets out a harsh laugh. “What’s happening here is Mr. Can’t Stop Twinkling has been selling us out to the league for months! He’s been a spy this whole time!”
Gasps ripple through the crowd of future heroes, and a rainbow of emotions arises to match the rainbow of costumes. Shock, disbelief, confusion, and– as he always feared– pure hatred.
He betrayed his friends long before they were his friends. Somehow, that doesn’t make things easier.
“Come on, Sweetie,” Midnight says. She has a hand on her sleeve, ready to release her quirk. It would be a last resort, since Somnambulist is a gas and impossible to aim, and not as quick of a capture as she would probably like. They’re outside, for one, and her quirk is most effective with people who are attracted to women. He’s not. “Let’s just do this the easy way. You don’t have anywhere to go-”
“Sure he does,” Present Mic mutters. Yuuga’s not sure why he hasn’t been blasted with a scream already. Clearly, Mic-sensei is motivated, but they seem to be following Eraserhead’s lead. “He can run right back to his little villain friends.”
Present Mic is more right than he knows. Yuuga has to return to the league.
The heroes take his silence for confirmation.
“Aoyama,” Eraserhead says, “Think about this rationally. You were useful to them as a spy, and your cover’s blown. What do you think they’ll do if you go back? I guarantee they won’t be happy.”
Yuuga shakes his head. He starts backing away, and the heroes tense, ready to attack.
Shit.
“You don’t understand,” he says. If he doesn’t go back, if he lets himself be captured- they’ll take it out on Maman and Papa. “This is the only way, I’m afraid. Please, just let me go, and you’ll never have to see me again.” Damn it, his eyes are starting to water. Why now? Why does he have to cry now?
Midoriya, of all people, steps forward. Sweet, heroic Midoriya, who was starting to cry himself.
“Help us understand,” he says. “I know you, and there has to be a reason. There has to be another way!”
“Aoyama,” Eraserhead says, “I’m giving you one more chance to come peacefully. Otherwise, we will have to bring you in by force.”
There’s no way Yuuga can fight off the entirety of 1-A and three of his teachers. He’s out of options… except for one. Except for what he swore he would never do.
He reaches into his jacket pocket.
He pulls out the gun.
His classmates gasp, some even scream. The teachers spread themselves out in front of the students, as if he would ever dare target one of them.
Amazing, in a world full of quirks, how one little gun makes everyone panic.
“I’m not getting arrested,” he says, raising the gun to his own temple. His hand is shaking, and he keeps his finger away from the trigger. He doesn’t want any accidents. “One way or another, I’m going to be gone from your lives. Please, please just let me go.”
He smiles, trying to pull on the mask that served him so well over the school year, but it’s cracked. It will never be the same.
“Don’t do this, kid,” Eraserhead says. He knows no one would be fast enough to stop Yuuga if he decides to pull the trigger, and this isn’t something he can erase. “We’ll figure this out- just put the gun down.”
Even Present Mic seems shaken.
Tears roll down his cheeks. “You know that I can’t, Sensei. I’m sorry.”
He knows, deep down, that they’re not going to let him go. He would’ve rather just slipped away and gone to the League. At least this way, they’ll know he wasn’t a snitch, and Maman and Papa will be safe.
“For what it’s worth, you all were wonderful. You were the best teachers I’ve ever had. And the best classmates. I really never wanted to hurt you- I wish I could explain.”
“You can! Of course you can explain,” Midnight says. “We’ll listen to anything you have to say.” She’s looking around nervously, like there’s anything that can stop him. “Or, if you’re going to leave, then let us talk for a bit, okay? You’re one of my favorite students in art class. Your sense of color and shape are wonderful! Did you design your own costume? I think it’s one of the best in the class, such a good mix of aesthetic and functionality.”
Why… Why was she talking about class?
“Your grades improved a lot from the first half of the year, as did your quirk control. You never let perceived limitations stop you,” says Eraserhead.
The second half of the year, after All for One was defeated and he thought he could stop hiding behind faux stupidity.
Damn it, they’re going to make him cry harder. His eyes are already stinging from his makeup, which was surely running down his face. Their last image of him was going to be of a mess.
Even Present Mic has something to say. “I always enjoy our chats in class, Listener. You’ve got a great grasp of the language, even though the spellings trip you up sometimes. Guess that’s from your background with French, right? English has much less consistency.”
But didn’t Present Mic hate him? Hadn’t he just been saying what an awful villain Yuuga was?
One by one his classmates join in, almost everyone telling him something they like about him.
Breath after deep, shuddering breath, he listens.
He never knew he had such an impact on his peers. He always thought of himself as the odd one out, the weird kid that everyone ignored. It’s part of why his persona is so flashy. DId his classmates actually like him?!
He’s going to miss them, he really is.
Something– someone– crashes into him from behind, sending Yuuga sprawling to the pavement below. A warm body wrestles the gun out of his hand and pins him to the ground. When he looks up, though, he sees nothing.
Hagakure. How could he forget about Hagakure?!
Teardrops hit the back of his head. “I got him, guys! I got him!” she says.
No. No, no, no, how could he let this happen?!
“You don’t know what you’re doing!” he yells as his teachers close the distance. Already he’s smelling the sweet lavender scent of Somnambulist.
“It’s going to be okay, Sweetie,” Midnight says. She pushes his hair back from his forehead.
“We’ll figure this out, I promise.”
“I’m sorry,” he sobs, but it’s not for them. His eyelids are growing heavier by the second. “Maman, Papa, please…”
Once again, Yuuga ruins everything.
He falls asleep with the eyes of the world upon him.