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Chapter Text

Midoriya Hisashi was washing the dishes when he got a call. He had settled into a meditative rhythm as he worked over each utensil and piece of cookware. A quick rinse and wipe of the sponge, then into the dishwasher or off to the side onto a flattened towel to be dried. His wife, Midoriya Inko, was in the living room watching the UA sports festival while he finished cleaning up dinner's mess.

He had just finished putting everything away, programming the dishwasher to run during the night like everyone else in this house kept forgetting to do (which drove him crazy, but Izuku never admitted to forgetting to start it whenever he visited the kitchen in the middle of night for a glass of water) when his Hisashi-phone rang. The distinction was startingly important.

He was a retired supervillain after all, and that life didn't leave you fully no matter how good a job you did of abandoning it. God, has it really been six years? How time flew by.

If Hisashi were to be honest he'd admit that he missed it- it felt like just yesterday he was mocking Pro Heroes as they bumbled into a masterfully plotted scheme and got themselves pointlessly killed, or was pulling the strings behind the global criminal underground. Those clear images were the work of one of his memory quirks, one of the few he didn't turn off. Never forgetting anniversaries, birthdays or important information was valuable, and subtle enough it wouldn't break his cover.

He had sworn to quit supervillainy entirely at his wife's request, which he had actually done! (Occasionally problems or opportunities arose that would be dealt with appropriately and safely, with due care paid to ensuring nothing about it got back to interfere with his day-to-day.) He didn't fight her on it because he understood her position completely.

He had, after all, stumble-warped his way into their living room where she'd been sitting on the coach missing an arm and coated in a bloody mud with most of the skin on his face punched off. He'd survived, obviously, but that had provided ample grounds for her to worry over his continued survival and the possibility of being left a single mother. Even if he knew he would never abandon his family willingly, his injuries proved there was no guarantee he could stay safe forever.

So he stopped. Mostly. Collecting a quirk to heal his body had taken some doing after all, but he stood by his decision to end his involuntary attachment to a respirator and repair his face, because there was no way he could explain away that. On the whole though it was surprisingly easy to manage the break with criminality especially considering how the way the heroes were dismantling his empire in the wake of his supposed death.

He had but to preserve a few of his most valuable assets and sever any lingering connections to his rapidly dwindling empire that could be made between the villain All for One and the legitimate lifestyle he led as a mild-mannered doting family man and father of one. Within a week of his 'death' he had severed all ties to his past life, and the boogeyman of the underground was but a memory for all but a privileged few.

Hisashi picked up his phone slowly, staring down at the unknown number with no desire to deal with whoever was calling him, What I wouldn't give to be able to murder annoyances once again. Placing bets- it was probably some inane request for a report coming in his off time. Time had taught him that even owning the company he worked at through a proxy company wasn't enough to avoid the struggles of poor management.

Midoriya Hisashi put up with it though for the same reason he hadn't entered back into villainy despite his recovery. His wife and son. He knew he wasn't perfect, so he tried harder to be endlessly caring and attentive, and centuries of life experience had lent a startling degree of emotional maturity that he leveraged to be the best father and husband he could be. There was only so much therapy and hard work could do to regulate his more antisocial traits, but he tried his best and not to toot his own horn, but with how well his son had turned out he figured he had done a good enough job.

Izuku Midoriya, his son, was his pride and joy. He was adorable, perfect, intelligent, sweet, and well adjusted, and Hisashi would kill anyone who disagreed. If not for the unfortunate streak of empathy and hero-worship the boy had he might have even tried to slowly start training him in the family business, if just to keep him safe from other ciriminal elements. Alas, it was not to be.

Inko had been vehemently opposed to the suggestion. She wanted their little angel protected and away from the instability and danger of villainy, and even though he had assured her repeatedly Hisashi could make him safer than anyone else she hadn't budged. Inko was intimidating when she was upset and he tended to fold immediately. Not that he had really wanted that dreadfully isolating life for Izuku anyway, but that hadn't been the only promise extracted from him in that early conversation.

"No quirks until he's old enough to handle it," she'd demanded afterwards, and by the time they'd both agreed he was mature enough to handle a powerful gifted quirk their son had already set his mind on being the first quirkless hero. It was infuriating. Not the quirkless part of course, he unequivocally supported his child in anything he wanted to do, but that didn't mean he found his desire to be a hero anything other than ridiculous.

Hisashi, freedom-fighter-cum-supervillain, obviously couldn't tolerate for his son viewing society through rose-colored glasses and had attempted to educate his son on the reality of the heroism industry. The greed, the glory hogs, the merchandising, the corruption, the media censorship, the exploitation, the literal kill squads, every dark and unpleasant reality that underscored the glitz and glam- and infuriatingly that had only driven Izuku to want to be a hero even more to fix all those problems.

"I want to be a hero like All Might, fight quirkism, and change that all for the better!" he'd said at the tender age of ten, and Hisashi didn't have the heart to tell his son that All Might was a stupid fool, and that Izuku almost certainly couldn't change the industry from the inside without All Might's overwhelming power and willingness to use it to force people to toe the party line.

So Hisashi had been silent. He'd helped nurture his intelligence and his drive because even if he detested his son's dreams he deserved nothing but love and support from his parents, stayed silent even as Midoriya had applied to UA, and celebrated with him as he got in despite it being Toshinori's Alma Mater.

But no matter how supportive he was though he didn't have the stomach to willingly watch the sports festival without his son. He was waiting for him to get back then they could analyze all the contestants' quirks together. Izuku didn't get his passion for quirk analysis from nowhere after all.

With his mind elsewhere Hisashi finally begrudgingly answered the phone, plastering on a positive and upbeat over his growing annoyance. "This is Hisashi Midoriya. Who am I speaking with?"

"Are you Midoriya Izuku's parent?" The voice that ignored his question was tired, gruff, and tinted with a misanthropic edge that made the speaker sound more confrontational then they probably intended. In short, he sounded like an asshole.

"Yes I am. What's going on?"

"I'm Aizawa Shota, your son's homeroom teacher. I'm calling you because your son needed surgery on his hands and arms due to damage from quirk blowback during the third round. This call is the mandatory notification we're legally obligated to give to you about his medical treatment, of which UA will be covering the costs and providing assistance with the recovery."

Hisashi twitched. He had to have heard that incorrectly. "But I'm also calling to get more insight into Izuku's personal history. Have you never taken your child to get any quirk counseling? He has a horrifying lack of control, and while he's been improving incredibly quickly that only implies he'd never had the chance to practice with it before. And now he has been grievously injured due to that failing. Do you understand why this is a problem?"

"I'm sorry but- I don't quite understand." Hisashi was, for once, genuinely confused- a rare thing for a two century old mastermind. "My son is quirkless."

"No he isn't. What are you talking about?"

"If this is some kind of prank, I am not amused." That was the simplest assumption, after all. "My son is quirkless. I've taken him to get tested for a quirk factor myself." He really had, though he'd been sure not to have the records committed conclusively in case he decided to give his son a quirk in the future. He had also used All for One to verify his son didn't have a quirk, and he trusted himself and his power. His son did not have a quirk, and Hisashi hadn't given him one either.

The speaker on the other end paused, considering for a heavy moment before asking a single question. "Have you been watching the sports festival?"

"No," Hisashi scoffed. "It's a parade show for the hero hopefuls to make themselves look good on camera by beating up other children, my son included." Knowing that all of UA's teaching staff were pro-heroes just made the dig all the sweeter.

"I see," the voice said with the tone of someone who most definitely did not. "I'd recommend watching it before you come to UA to take care of your child as soon as possible, I've been told he should be waking up in an hour or so. Just give your names to a staff member and they'll take you to where you need to go. Thank you for your understanding, and I hope to see you soon."

He wasn't particularly fond of this idea. He knew his child was quirkless, he'd verified it repeatedly, checking as recently as a few months ago. He walked into the living room anyways.

Inko was curled up on the couch bawling with huge tears pouring down her face. "Did you give Izuku a quirk?" Hisashi shook his head dumbly, which only made Inko's tears intensify. "But Izuku he- he has a quirk Hisashi!"

Hisashi was extremely confused, standing there with the UA Sports Festival broadcast blasting the voice of an over-enthusiastic announcer in the middle of a post-battle review around. "What a c-c-crazy quarterfinal round! Both contestants gave an absolutely jaw dropping performance. For those of you who missed it, Todoroki Shoto was looking unstoppable coming into the ring with his portable glaciers!" the image on screen cut to a close up of a red and white haired boy launching building sized columns of ice at something off screen.

"Super cool! Not only that, but we got to see him turn up the heat with the first we expected to see from the son of Endeavour!" The next clip was taken from much farther away as a massive inferno erupted from the kid. What a fascinating quirk. His heterogenous coloration suggests a divided quirk factor expressed genetically on either side of his body, but that burn scar on his red side indicates a relative lack of heat resistance mutation. Perhaps the quirk balances itself using some degree of internal thermic regulation instead of raw temperature resistance?

The voice he'd just heard speaking on the phone with him picked up the thread the announcer left. "But he forgot to account for the expansion of air that would occur due to rapidly heating the ice and cold air. That explosion was incredibly dangerous."

A small feeling of dread wormed its way up into Hisashi's chest alongside a growing suspicion. "On the other hand, the first place winner of the obstacle race, Midoriya gave an absolutely incredible effort! He pushed Todoroki further then anyone else did, pushing through the incredible pain of several broken limbs with an iron will!"

This time the screen cut to a much closer image of Izuku Midoriya, Hisashi's son, dancing around on the field with a look so intense it burned. He was cradling his arms against his chest, with his mangled fingers shining a vibrant purple. Izuku flicked one of his few remaining undamaged fingers, launching a massive pressure wave that shattered the avalanche barreling towards him before the television cut to a final scene of both of the students launching themselves at each other, red lightning bolts coursing along Izuku's limbs as an eruption of power taller then the stadium whited out the screen.

It took Hisashi a moment to realize he was trembling, so utterly beyond furious and disbelieving that his son had somehow gained that quirk, along with everything that implied, especially because it meant that his child was currently in surgery because of All Might's stupidity. Needless to say, his journey to UA was spent with his mind consumed by thoughts of just how much he would enjoy tearing out all of the organs he missed the first time in All Might.

Midoriya Hisashi all but stormed onto UA, demanding to be led to the infirmary, thoroughly intimidating the event staffer sent to bring them there. He found his son laying in a hospital bed, dressed in a hospital gown and immobilized in a web of casts and bandages.

"Hey dad!" Izuku said, brightly, and Hisashi's gloomy expression melted into doting softness.

"Hey Izuku! How're you feeling?"

"I'm feeling great! My arms hurt a bit, but did you see me in the sports festival? Todoroki was too strong to beat, but I managed to reach the quarterfinals!"

"Oh honey, I'm so glad you're okay!" Inko cried, hugging her son as tightly as she could. "I almost had a heart attack seeing you on screen like that! You have to take better care of yourself!"

"Hi mom," Izuku replied, eyes misty as he hugged her back as much as he could manage..

Hisashi reached around to hug them both of them as Inko's muffled voice rose out of Izuku's shoulders. "Are you in pain? Do your fingers hurt? What did the doctors say?"

"I think those are better questions to be directed at me, dearie," a short woman with gray hair said as she walked into the room. "I'm the school doctor. My hero name is Recovery Girl, but you can call me Shuzenji. Your boy here did quite the number on himself with the blowback from his quirk."

Hisashi's eyes bore into her. "Which is incredibly interesting considering, that my child was supposedly medically quirkless. And yet here he is, in the school infirmary with injuries from something he shouldn't have. You wouldn't happen to know anything about how that happened, do you?"

"U-umm," Midoriya stuttered as tried to explain himself, "It turns out I'm just a really late bloomer dad!"

Shuzenji cut in, "As I understand it, your boy here had his quirk manifest shortly before UA's entrance exam. It's rare to have quirks come in this late but isn't unheard of, especially for emitter quirks that can harm the user. Our current theory is that his quirk couldn't manifest earlier because it was too powerful for his body. Even after months of training it leaves his body like this." She sent Izuku a confused glance. "Did he not tell you about his quirk?"

Hisashi smiled thinly. "No he did not." He turned to his son. "Why didn't you tell me, Izuku?"

"I didn't want to worry you?" He was not a good liar. The truth came out in the way Izuku slinked away from Hisashi's eyes, and the way that he pitched up his voice at the end like he was asking a question.

Izuku was saved from the burgeoning interrogation by the door to the infirmary which was flung open with a loud bang. He entered, speaking in his unfortunately familiar obnoxiously loud voice. "I am here to meet the Midoriyas!"

Hisashi didn't turn around immediately. He didn't trust himself not to launch himself across the room at the man and bludgeon him to death with his own limbs, consequences be damned. Killing Izuku's idol in front of him would upset him. I can't kill All Might. Think of how sad he'd be. He repeated that over and over, willing himself not to grab the spandex-clad hero's face and slam it through the nearest load bearing structure.

"Hi All Might!" Izuku practically glowed with excitement in the presence of his idol. Hisashi still did not turn around.

"Hello to you too, young Midoriya! I trust you're feeling better."

Hisashi turned and made eye contact with all the excitement of a man who knew he was about to have to do something very unpleasant, glacial slowness dragging out the moment longer and longer. Could he avoid it? Shapeshifting was out, his son was right there. None of his illusion quirks were subtle enough to be monodirectional either. "I wish I could say it was lovely to see you again, All Might."

"Hello- you," All Might's face contorted with rage. He dropped into a combat-ready stance, shoulders tightening and hands coming up. The anger and fear on his face blended into a cocktail that he could practically taste even without an active empathy quirk, hatred radiating from every inch of the man. "What do you think you're doing here, All for One?" Shuzenji gasped, clearly recognizing the name as she raised her cane defensively in the direction of Hisashi. Not that it would do them any good if he came bearing ill intent.

"Who's All for One? Dad?" Izuku tugged on his sleeve. "What's All Might saying?"

"D-Dad?" All Might sputtered, drawing up short. "Young Midoriya, you mean to say All for One is your father?"

Hisashi laughed, the sound dark and tinged with mocking. It was utterly unlike anything he had ever let Izuku hear from him. "Yes, I'm his dad. Have been since his birth, funnily enough. And did you seriously not tell my son the truth about our quirks?"

All Might barked out a scoff as he edged his way closer. "Of course I did! I just didn't tell him about you because I thought I killed you years ago!"

"Which didn't work out great, did it? Nice job almost murdering the father of your successor."

"Dad? All Might?" Izuku's voice trembled, as he started to put together a picture he didn't like. "What's going on?"

All Might spoke first without taking his eyes off of Hisashi for an instant. "Young Midoriya, I'm sorry for not telling you this sooner. I thought I had killed All for One and didn't think it necessary to worry you with stories of the past. But it appears this monster isn't as dead as I hoped. All for One- your father- is the villain who gave me my injury."

"Huh?" Izuku's face blitzed across the emotional spectrum as he watched the two adults staring each other down. Confusion, sadness, horror, shock- before it finally settled into a confused numbness as he was overwhelmed with the fact that the nameless evil who had almost killed All Might was his dad.

"You tried to kill me first," Hisashi pointed out.

"Because you were the worst villain in history! You murdered all the previous holders of One for All!"

"I only purposefully killed two through four! The rest of you just wouldn't attacking me!"

"Of course I was interfering! You're a villain! You murdered people!

"I only killed people who deserved it, and I'm not a huge fan of this revisionism. Don't forget your reckless attacks level buildings, you've killed people too."

The two men were getting closer and closer to each other, spitting accusations and venom at point blank range. "There's a big difference between making a mistake in a high-pressure situation, and murdering people in cold blood."

"And that is? Your victims are still dead."

"I do my best to help others, while you revel in the harm you cause. We are not the same."

"Well your 'best' seems perfectly fine with child endangerment by giving my son your quirk without even considering the consequences it could have on his body steroid-addled moron of a man."

"I was careful you senile abomination- I trained him for months to handle the risks, but I guess it's in character for you not to pay enough attention to your son to notice."

"I actually did notice he was training, thank you very much, and when I asked I was told he was doing physical training with a hero. He just failed to inform me he was doing it with you."

"Dad, stop!" Izuku shouted, breaking their back and forth. "It's not All Might's fault I'm hurt, I just couldn't control myself."

"It is every bit All Might's fault, and UA isn't blameless either." Hisashi spat every word, still staring down his nemesis. "This is a meaningless school competition, there is no conceivable reason for you to have gotten a fraction as injured as you are." Hisashi shook his head firmly.

"Those mistakes are on the heroes. But frankly I didn't have any expectations of them in the first place. I'm far more upset that you were hiding things from me. Hiding the fact you got a quirk and that you were getting trained by All Might? That- hang on." Hisashi whirled around to look at Inko, "You knew about All Might, didn't you? There's no way Izuku wouldn't have told someone. Did he tell you about being trained by All Might?" She nodded once. "Inko..."

She didn't let go or stop fussing over Izuku on the infirmary bed, but turned her head to stare down Hisashi seriously. "It was Izuku's dream. We both know you wouldn't have liked it, and Izuku asked me to help him keep it a secret from you because he didn't want you to be angry. Though I didn't know about All Might giving him a quirk." Hisashi hid his wince. That lapse in judgement would probably earn him several disappointed looks once she was done fussing over her child.

Hisashi looked back at All Might. "You've been training him for almost a year now and you didn't think to tell his parents about it in person? My expectations were rock bottom for you, and you somehow managed to disappoint me again."

"It's not All Might's fault dad! His quirk is a national secret! He couldn't tell you guys!"

"Don't defend him." Izuku's mouth closed guiltily. "It is his fault, and his incompetence as a teacher and hero is showing. Besides, what happened to being the first quirkless hero?"

"W-well I realized it wasn't possible?"

"Of course it's possible," scoffed Hisashi, "We've talked at length about all the ways a quirkless hero could succeed. They could be just as useful as a quirked individual in almost every field of heroism with enough training and resources. Tell me the real reason."

"All Might may or may not have possibly said that I couldn't be a hero without a quirk a little bit?"

Hisashi took a deep, calming breath through creaking teeth. "All Might. Are you trying to convince me to finish you off?"

"You're welcome to try, villain."

"I wouldn't have to try very hard," Hisashi laughed easily. "I'm in better condition then ever, and I've been tracking how much weaker you've gotten overtime. It wouldn't be a very close fight."

"I beat you once, I can do it again."

"All Might? Dad? Can we not kill eachother please?" Izuku begged.

"For you Izuku?" Hisashi sighed. "Of course."

"I appreciate the concern young Midoriya, but this is between your father and I. I will do what I must to protect the world from his reign of terror."

"The Symbol of Peace, everyone!" Hisashi clapped wildly as he laughed, "Can't keep himself from wanting to murder a retiree senior citizen based on revisionist history. Really makes you wonder who the real villain is."

"Really? That's adorable coming from the self-proclaimed Symbol of Evil."

"And yet I'm not the one whose monumental incompetence as a teacher landed a student on an operating table."

"I already told you it's not All Might's fault dad!"

"Really, Izuku? If he did such a good job then why are you in the infirmary with quirk injuries?"

"That's not fair at all dad. It's my fault for going overboard-"

"You can't even use the quirk safely, can you?"

Izuku squirmed pointlessly in his hospital bed- not that he could get very far with his mother still wrapped around him fussing over every inch of gauze covered skin. "...No."

"I suspected as much. As your teacher and mentor it is All Might's job to keep you safe, secure, and ensure you can learn without endangering yourself or risking permanent injury. He has a responsibility to you- one that he has failed as utterly as he did to kill me. He probably doesn't even have a teaching license."

"Well, no but-"

"Of course not, that's just like you. How did you become the number one hero exactly?" Hisashi brought his hand up to his jaw, pretending to think. Years of time spent hiding his true identity, being unable to rub All Might's face in the fact that he was alive and better than ever had grated on him like metal utensils on ceramic, even if he'd grown to enjoy his retirement- and now that he had the chance to spit in the face of his greatest enemy once again nothing would get between him and catharsis.

"Oh that's right. You were handed a stolen quirk, handed power that never belonged to you in the first place and decided to use it to do whatever the hell you wanted without a speck of self reflection on the consequences of your actions."

Hisashi let out a long, satisfied breath. He tasted of laurels and vindication, reveling darkly in the frustration and anger boiling in All Might's expression that he couldn't release, as he was still worried about the other people in the room. They weren't actually in any danger, but All Might didn't believe that.

Hisashi was still smiling when he turned away to face his son. Izuku was staring at him like he was a stranger- fear and horror writ large with character formed of wide eyes and wetness and betrayal. Hisashi's heart throbbed painfully at the sight.

"One for All may have been given to me by someone else," All Might said from behind Hisashi's back, "but it was my choices that created a new era of peace and brought an end to the fear and anarchy citizens of Japan had to face every single day. And despite all that? Perhaps the greatest thing I ever did was defeating you." All Might's form radiated power into the room, the sheer force of his presence tugging on the primal part of everyone's brain that signaled the presence of a something dangerous and clawed.

"Don't bother intimidating me, we both know you're fueled by a dying flame. Probably embers, if even that, while I've never been greater," Hisashi mocked as he reached out to touch Izuku.

"Don't!" All Might shouted, blurring forward faster then the eye could see in a rush. Hisashi responded in an instant. Shock Absorption X2, Strength X3, Air Manipulation. Hisashi caught the blow with one hand absorbing the force and stilling the wind currents that had picked up with the speed of his passage. Uninterrupted, All for One rested his hand on Izuku's shoulder. Mental Acceleration X2, Visualization, Overhaul. The collection of quirks he'd gathered to supplement the use of one of the most powerful and versatile quirks he'd ever seen.

Focusing, he disconnected the nerves in his son's neck for an instant- just long enough to prevent him from feeling the pain of getting his broken limbs deconstructed and reconstructed leaving his hands and arms back into a healthy state. Gently dropping his hands he brushed the bandages with his fingers, reducing them into dust.

Izuku jolted at the strange sensation, looking down at his hands in unfiltered awe and confusion. Twisting them back and forth he marveled at the lack of scarring as he launched into a series of questions, the tense situation almost completely forgotten. "How did you do that? you can breathe fire I can't think of an expression of fire that would act as a healing quirk like that and it didn't even tire me out, did you supply the energy? And even if you somehow had enough energy regeneration and healing doesn't work over injuries like that instantly because they just boost the body's natural healing-"

Hisashi pressed his finger gently to his mouth before he could continue, and felt his heart break a little when Izuku flinched away, remembering the situation. Hisashi sighed and came closer to the bed, slowly wrapping his arms around Izuku from the other side in the lightest and warmest embrace he could manage

"'Zuku, I promise I'll explain everything when we get home, okay?" Hisashi let out a deep breath. "I know it's hard to trust me right now, but I've never broken a promise to you before, right?" That earned him a hesitant, jerky nod which- fair enough. He'd known he'd have to tell Izuku the truth someday, he'd just kept putting it off for the day his hero worship phase ended. It never had, and this was the consequence of his procrastination.

"You know I love you, right?" Another nod, this time a little more sure. "Then lets head home." Hisashi Midoriya turned back to face All Might, still primed for a fight. He supposed it was time to play damage control. He'd play nice now that he'd seen how much his actions bothered his son. "All Might." he inclined his head a sliver, "Thank you for coming to check on Izuku today."

Even if it's mostly your fault he's here, he didn't say. The words burned coming out, but the results were delicious. Hisashi wished he was recording so he could share with the world the way All Might gaped like a fish, utterly flabbergasted. He'd just have to settle for his quirk-augmented perfect memory. This was going right in his treasured memory vault, right beneath the first time he held his son, the day of his marriage, and the feeling of his hand going through All Might's organs and leaving behind a quirk poison.

All Might managed to recollect himself enough to function rather quickly. "You can't leave with him. He is my student, and I cannot allow him to be put in danger, regardless of your relationship."

"Finally, some real heroism out of you, and at the least useful time for everyone. My son is in no danger. I retired after our fight so I could be there for my family - I would never hurt him, or allow him to be hurt." Activating a powerful warp quirk, Hisashi let a strange power build and swirl up around the three of them. "I will be back to discuss matters with your school tomorrow. I have concerns that will need to be addressed about the safety and competency of this institution, but it's been a long day for my family and I would like to go home. Good day." The Midoriya family vanished in a burst of wind, seconds before several other heroes burst into the room ready for a fight, summoned by a silent alarm.

The conversation that came after coming home was long, uncomfortable, and full of far too many tears for Hisashi's taste.

"You really were a villain?" Izuku had asked, and Hisashi was forced to tell the truth. He wasn't just a villain, he was the quirk-thief boogeyman, emperor of the underground the Symbol of Evil- but he didn't stop at the parts of the story other people knew.

He told Izuku of how he got his start- as a criminal yes, but also a freedom fighter- resisting discrimination alongside some of the first quirked individuals, a part of history that most had been happy to misremember and obscure until the truth was forgotten. The history books didn't talk about the lynch mobs and hate crimes against anyone with even even the smallest mutations that made quirked people afraid to leave their homes, because that was the kind of history nobody liked to talk about how they were complicit in, the kind of events that people rarely talked about except as a 'slow period of adaption,' to a 'new normal.'

The discrimination the quirked experienced, like most bigotry, spread beyond them too and affected people other people who were different.' 'Quirk' was the word eventually chosen many decades later when Destro's mother made her famous plea for acceptance, but for a long time the only labels that mattered was dangerous.

Japan had always had a poor record of denying their history, and were more than content to make sure the history books that got printed disremembered far more than that. They didn't speak about the early breeding programs and human experimentation that surpassed anything else in history. They didn't talk about the way infrastructure couldn't accommodate people's modified bodies and the way the quirked would be denied basic access to whatever limited healthcare and access to social services would be offerd in those times.

Even in the rare case the quirked were lucky enough to find kind and open-minded healthcare professionals, providers were often rendered helpless in the face of new and seemingly physics-defying physiology. Most quirked turned to petty crime just to survive, in a way that he suspected had been planned as a way to justify violence against the inhumans.

The world was hostile towards the quirked in a way that modern quirkists could only wish for in their wildest fantasies. Most of Hisashi's early quirks had come from people begging him to take them- anything to let them be normal again, so they wouldn't have to deal with getting kicked out of their homes and churches and friend groups only to be further victimized and denied basic rights when they landed on the streets.

He'd been lucky to have mostly unnoticeable mutations that let him avoid the worst of it, and with his power he quickly became a community leader. He and others had started working to build safe spaces and fight for the possibility of a future, but they were few against the many. Resentment brewed amongst those who he couldn't get too to help remove their quirks as the number of quirked people who wanted them gone grew and grew, and he was isolated from those of his peers that hated the fact he could take away their powers.

He described how the world descended into war and distrust in the wake of economic collapse. How he distributed what quirks he had collected to his allies to try and fight for a future. They'd failed, largely because of the limited quantity and power of early quirks. Quirks like Glowing Skin, Strong Bones, and Pyrokinesis meant little in the face of modern military equipment. They'd fought and accomplished little.

Once the open warfare ended things got even worse. With treason on his record he had no choice but to leave the limelight and join the rapidly growing ranks of villains, superpowered criminals using their abilities for selfish ends. That was the period his hair went white from the stress and strain of taking in so many new quirks in such a short time.

Izuku sat through it all, listening with a look of intense focus as horrifying revelation after horrifying revelation was revealed and his curiosity and need to understand his father grew as he tried to understand the person beneath the shattered image of the Hisashi Midoriya he'd thought he'd known.

Hisashi kept talking, sharing the truth of him and his brother- the way he'd given him a quirk to try and help mitigate the worst of the illness the doctors hadn't been able to help with, and the schism that came when his brother Yoichi took issue with his growing extremism.

Hisashi hadn't ever told anyone this much before. Even Inko had only known the important points, but he hadn't felt the need to share the parts of the past that had happened to him. It felt... nice. Almost like a confessional, tossing the weight of his history off his chest and sharing the knowledge of it with the only people in the world he trusted.

The breaking point between him and his brother, he shared, was an act of political terrorism where he murdered a quirkist legislator in the National Diet who was pushing for a formalized legal framework to classify the quirked as second class citizens. Yoichi and him had almost come to blows before his brother left. They never spoke again, despite how hard Hisashi searched for him.

He learned about the death of his brother to his illness a decade or two later, when the third wielder of One for All told him it had been passed to them with instructions to use it to stop Hisashi, learning that the energy stockpile quirk he'd given Izuku's uncle Yoichi had combined with their unknown ability to transfer quirks to create One for All.

Finally he told his son about how All Might had hunted him and his empire, how they had their climactic battle that ended in mutual destruction almost having killed each other. How he had stumbled into the living room to see Inko as he was dying and in agony.

Now that he had more information, Izuku started to put things together that hadn't clicked for him before. Hisashi was torn between pride and something that felt a little like fear. "That was around the time you had that business trip, wasn't it?" Izuku asked, "6 years ago? That's when All Might got his injury."

Izuku was right, of course. Hisashi had disappeared for several weeks as he tried to find some way to do more than stave off his incoming death before he lucked into finding a quirk capable of rearranging matter on a mid level thug in the modern equivalent of the Yakuza. That, adorably, prompted a bunch of question into the limits of Overhaul which he answered as thoroughly as possible and would never admit how much better it made him feel. Inevitably, his story began to wind down there as Hisashi finished explaining his grand, complicated history.

"The fight with All Might was actually when I decided to quit villainy entirely. I'd already mostly abandoned my role in the years before, leaving subordinates more and more control of my empire in my stead, but your mother and I couldn't accept the risk that one day I could be killed by a powerful hero or that your connection with me could be exposed and ruin your life, as it really shouldn't but inevitably would. So I retired, and I've been making an honest living ever since."

Izuku had more questions, like he always did. Hard ones. The last one he asked was the hardest.

"How many people have you killed?" Izuku stared at Hisashi with something indecipherable swirling in his eyes as he waited for the answer. At this point Hisashi wasn't quite sure whether he was explaining everything out of some emotional obligation or because the last of his hidden self felt uncomfortable to wear. He'd refilled his glass several times during his story with a water quirk as he talked and talked, trying to vent the oddness gumming up his throat and upsetting his stomach.

Hisashi paused for an instant, contemplating lying but unable to bring himself to do it before shrugging faux carelessly. "Thousands, at least. Depending on how you count that could be significantly higher." He felt uncomfortably aware of his son's focus, scrutinized by the copies of his wife's beautiful eyes. "Well I guess if I'm just telling your everything it's probably worth saying that most of the people I killed were also trying to kill me, and that I'd argue- oof." Hisashi was cut off by a green missile slamming into his midsection, burying it's green curls into his chest in a crushing hug.

Hisashi felt tension he hadn't even noticed seeping out of him, realizing that he'd been talking faster and faster just trying to get his words out until everything he had to say was tumbling out in a jumbled rush just like his son did when he started mumbling. The head mashed into his chest looked up through twisted curls, watery and wide green eyes that were too pure and sweet and too empathetic, more than he deserved to have pointed at him. "You're still my dad though, right?"

"Yeah. Always." The smile that broke across both their faces like two floodlights wasn't part of the practiced mask Hisashi affected to better disguise himself as a single relieved thought drowned out everything else. My son doesn't hate me.

Inko finally chose her moment to speak up, her voice teasing but nasal and congested. Hisashi knew if he looked her eyes wouldn't be quite dry either. "Oh I'm pretty sure he's your dad. He definitely contributed his part in making you."

"Mom! Please!" Izuku withdrew his arms from around his dad, jamming his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to erase what he'd already heard.

"What's wrong Izuku? I was just going to say you guys are a lot alike, like how you both tend to ramble when you're nervous."

"I don't get nervous. And I don't ramble," Hisashi sniffed haughtily, feelings obvious in the way he kept a tight hold on the greenette attached to his torso. "I merely explain things. Thoroughly."

Inko snorted. "Well I'm explaining that the both of you are in trouble. Izuku, you promised me you were going to be careful at your school, and you exploded both your arms in a stupid fight. And you Hisashi! You hadn't told me all that bit about your brother and All Might!"

"Uhh- it slipped my mind?" Hisashi lowered his head sheepishly.

"But mom!" Izuku argued, "I was being a hero! The boy I was fighting was hurting himself by refusing to use his fire!"

"That doesn't mean you have to injure yourself badly enough you need surgery! If your dad wasn't here to heal you then you might've damaged your fingers forever! You don't get to argue about this, it's my job to keep you safe. You're not even a hero yet, other people's safety is not your responsibility. Leave it to his parents to help him."

Hisashi felt his son stiffen just slightly at that remark, pressing his face down harder to hide his reaction. It was probably too subtle for Inko to notice, but he noted it down anyways. Something about that statement had bothered him. Was it the part about the kids parents? I'll have to look into this later.

Despite that momentary oddity, the somber and tense mood had finally broken, which Hisashi had the sneaking suspicion that had actually been Inko's goal. "And now it's time for bed. Just because you have a day off tomorrow doesn't mean you can mess up your sleep schedule!"

Izuku let go to look over his shoulder. "But-" Inko's glare silenced him immediately. "...yes, mom."

"Oh don't take that tone with me. You know you need to be getting to sleep too. You're barely staying awake as is, and you've had an exhausting day."

"Your mom's right," Hisashi said wisely. "Bedtime."

"I can stay awake longer!" Izuku promised before yawning massively. Betrayed by his own body. "And I'm fifteen! You can't put me to bed yet."

"Mmhmm. Good night honey." Hisashi let go of his son at Inko's gesture and Izuku let himself slide down slowly, flopping dramatically onto the floor before picking himself up.

He definitely took longer than he needed to to get into his room, but Hisashi and Inko were patient. With a final pout, Izuku closed the door. Inko and Hisashi moved to sit on their living room couch, sliding close together on one end of the well worn furniture as Inko tucked herself under Hisashi's arm. He appreciated the warmth. "You're lucky Izuku is understanding to a fault," she said quietly.

Hisashi seemed to sink deeper into the couch but matched her volume. "I know. This is what I get for hiding things from him."

"I told you this was going to happen someday."

"And you were right, like always. Doesn't make it any easier."

Inko hummed softly as they sat next to each other, both staring into the dark screen of the TV that had destroyed the entire trajectory of their day. Inko had already known all the important bits of what he'd shared there. He'd told her years ago before they got married, and she'd accepted him despite it, even though it had been a difficult process. It wasn't just Izuku that was more understanding then he deserved. "You remember how Izuku forgave the Bakugo's kid for burning him?"

Hisashi groaned. "Oh don't remind me. I get that the kid had just gotten his quirk, but Izuku had a full hand print burned onto his wrist."

She laughed softly. "I remember you were more panicked than anyone else there, including Izuku! I had to talk you down that night from using a bunch of healing quirks to fix him."

"Well I'm sorry I can't handle my kid getting hurt!"

"Is that why you hid things from him for so long?"

Hisashi shot her a dirty look out of the corner of his eye which she took with easy grace as he avoided the question. "Izuku has the day off tomorrow, but his school should still have its staff there so I'm planning to go in and talk to them about some of my concerns. Injuries like Izuku's should never have been allowed to happen at a school. His finger bones had been shattered, Inko!" He forced himself to calm down, trying to stay quiet. "I worry for him."

Inko turned in place to face him, reaching out with her hand to tilt his head towards her. "So do I. Every damn day I worry. Our son's incredible, so brave and self sacrificing that it drives me absolutely crazy, but that doesn't stop me from loving him more than anything. Just make sure that he knows you love him too."

Hisashi let out a shaky breath, nodded, then reached over and lifted Inko in an effortless princess carry. She giggled childishly at the casual use of strength, something he hadn't done casually around the house since Izuku was born. Kissing him on the cheek, they both headed to their bed to sleep as well.

Hisashi showed up the next day at UA's front gates, feeling more himself than he had in years, even when he was still active as a villain himself. He filled out his tailored black suit and cut an intimidating figure in front of the gates. A shock of white hair matched neatly with his white undershirt and white gloves. Formal enough to go to a funeral. Formal enough to be the cause of a funeral. Hisashi smirked to himself.

The heroes that came out through the gate a minute later found the situation much less funny. All Might had clearly instructed most of the staff to stay back so it was just him and one other hero with goggles and a thick scarf. Eraserhead, if Hisashi was right, capable of erasing an individual's quirk factor from a distance. Like most erasure quirks it couldn't work on mutations, so All for One wasn't in too much danger. He raised his palms non-threateningly, sleeve sliding up to reveal an emerald watch as he greeted the heroes. "All Might. Eraserhead. It's good to see you both in good health."

"What do you want, All for One?" All Might growled out. It was fortunate that the media wasn't here on UA's day off, as this tableau would've decorated every headline before the hour was out.

"Please, call me Midoriya. And I'm here as a concerned parent, of course."

"Do you take me for a fool?"

Hisashi smirked, shrugging. "You said it, not me. That's why I'm here actually. I have concerns about the safety and competency of the institution my son attends in light of recent events."

"I assure you, there is no reason to call the competency of UA into question." All Might wasn't having any of it. Disappointing, but then again he couldn't expect flexibility from the symbol of the status quo.

"I have a reason in the form of no less than 9 intra-articular fractures inside my child's fingers, not even including a series of comminuted fractures. One of his arms was broken in four places. Even with modern technology and healing quirks, he likely never would've regained full range of motion in his hands and almost certainly would've dealt with chronic pain for the rest of his life."

"Heroes are asked to go above and beyond to save others." Oh fuck you Toshinori, you're just being confrontational now. "While young Izuku did injure himself well beyond the pale, it's nothing that we don't expect from young heroes. We have measures in place for these very occurences."

"No, he's right Yagi," interrupted Aizawa. "Injuries like that are unacceptable in a sports event no matter the reason, especially for a first year student. He doesn't even have his provisional license, he shouldn't have been allowed to make those mistakes."

"You're siding with him, Aizawa?"

"I'm siding with the interests of my students."

Hisashi chuffed lightly, almost impressed by the hero. Underground heroes did tend to be more reasonable though. "That's the kind of thing I like to hear! But we ought to take this inside, we wouldn't want the media to catch on to our little discussion, would we?"

All Might was visibly suppressing his distaste at the idea of inviting an enemy into UA's halls, but clearly recognized the necessity leaving him to stew in indecision. Hisashi was rapidly discovering he enjoyed the feeling of annoying All Might almost as much as he enjoyed beating him within an inch of his life, and this method had the advantage of not upsetting Izuku. Hell, if he showed he was playing nice his son might even be grateful.

That all sounded dreadfully heroic, but all effective villainy was built on knowing how to achieve your goals and having the mettle to execute them properly. He'd see where this went before making a decision. In the spirit of this revelation, he stepped close to All Might and swung an arm around the tall man's upper torso. He wasn't tall enough to reach his shoulders, and while he could fix it with gigantification it was just unnecessary, especially because his position left his hand resting closer to All Might's injury. The man looked constipated, clearly debating the pros and cons of starting a fight right in front of the gates. With a sigh, Yagi made his decision. "No. No we wouldn't."

"Good man!" Hisashi slapped his nemesis on the back and tried not to cackle.

Hisashi was led through the campus into a prepared conference room, sitting down with All Might and Eraserhead around a table with enough space for a dozen people. "Sit," said Aizawa, gesturing to a seat. The two pro heroes flanked the spot at the head of the table. The reason why became obvious when a previously hidden projector in the chair at the head of the table flickered on, projecting the image of Nezu into the chair.

He was a short white furred creature, fuzzing slightly in the blueish edges of the projection. A notable mousey snout was integrated smoothly into his roundish head attached to a bipedal torso. While Hisashi had some guesses as to his genetic heritage, accessing more than tangential records was inconvenient, as all the records of the work done in that lab had all been mysteriously destroyed and the researchers directly involved had all died early in unconnected ways.

It was good work. Damn good work. Clean enough that even Hisashi's old network hadn't been able to prove anything, and the only reason he thought Nezu was behind it was because that many coincidences not being enemy action was probabilistically ridiculous. Nezu having had a hand in it was the safest assumption. Hisashi respected him more than most heroes because of it. "It's me, Principal Nezu! Am I a Rat? A Dog? A Bear? Who knows! And you must be All for One. Tell me, would you care for some tea?"

"Yes, thank you. I assume you know why I'm here?"

"Of course." With a small gesture of one of the rat's paws a pot of tea and several cups emerged from the inside of the desk. Hisashi reached out first to pour Aizawa and himself a cup. Nezu waited, watching with a sparkle in his eye for him to finish before he continued. "I believe your concerns hold merit, and I hope to assuage them with today's conversation. It wouldn't do for my school to provide anything less then the best for our students."

"S-sir," All Might stuttered, "Are you really sure this is appropriate? He's All for One. How are we even allowing him into these halls?"

"I know what I'm doing, Yagi. I understand your feelings, but your inflexibility is not helpful here."

"But-"

"No buts. Regardless of anything else, Shigaraki Hisashi," Hisashi smirked at the unsubtle name drop, "is here in the capacity of a concerned parent, and as principal I would be remiss if I were to neglect their concerns." Nezu paused to take a long sip of his tea. "If he would be amenable to listing said concerns, of course."

Hisashi looked the invitation to play mental games and declined. He had to keep up his suite of defensive mutation quirks and didn't want to pull anything away from his security in front of a rare group of canceller and overwhelmingly powerful emitter that might actually be able to hurt him. "Well to be frank, my primary issue is with the injuries my son sustained during the sports festival which were far beyond the pale. I'm here now to see if there is anything else that may be lacking as much as the safety procedures that ought to have existed to keep my son safe."

Nezu nodded earnestly, seeming genuinely engaged and interested in his criticism, and though he couldn't be sure it wasn't an act it didn't seem like one. "That's quite fair, though I assure you that injury was vanishingly improbable. There hasn't been an equivalent injury in all my years working here."

"Unfortunately for the both of us, I can't judge the quality of your institution based on your word."

"I suppose you can't. Do have any solutions then?"

Hisashi glanced around the room once again, taking in as much information as he could. Eraserhead sat straight and tensed like he was ready to enter a fight at any moment, goggles down with most of his face hidden behind his scarf. He looked exhausted, but then working a day job as a homeroom teacher and a night shift as a hero would do that to you. On the other hand, Hisashi didn't think All Might was listening at all, as he appeared too wrapped up in his attempts to manifest a laser eye quirk. Neither of them appeared to have any idea of Nezu's goal with this conversation. "No, sorry. I've been too worried over the situation as is to come up with a proper solution yet, you understand."

"Of course, that's perfectly fair."

"You're agreeing with him?" asked All Might incredulously.

"All Might-"

"No Nezu, I can't believe we're listening to him! He almost killed me! I almost killed him!" All Might leveled an accusatory finger at Hisashi, "I bet he's just here to get information on the layout of UA, likely to plan an attack on our students!"

Hisashi rolled his eyes at his nemesis -ex-nemesis? "I've been retired for six years. I'm not attempting anything. If not for this mess I'd be more than happy to stay at home and take care of my family. You dragged me into this."

"And we're just supposed to believe that?"

"I suppose so. Tell me Yagi, what do you think of my son?"

"He has an unquestionable heroic spirit. I couldn't be happier with my choice of successor."

Hisashi nodded along. "My son wants to be a hero desperately, and we both know that if the public knew Izuku was the son of the man who almost killed All Might they'd never accept him."

All Might's eyes narrowed to points. "Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a statement of fact, and the reason why I won't do anything to you. I won't risk compromising my son's dream, even though I dislike it on principle. I truly am here just because I'm worried about what my son is being taught."

Nezu's mouselike face quirked it's lips, tail flicking behind him excitedly. "Why? Why come here then? You wouldn't know anything about teaching heroics."

"Please. I've fought 'heroes' for almost two centuries, I know more about it than most. And I had to get a proper teaching license a century ago or so ago for a cover, I'm probably more qualified than most of the people teaching at this institution. I'm certainly more qualified than you, Yagi."

"Hilarious. You? Teaching? Were you using it as a cover to kidnap schoolchildren?"

"Of course not! Children are the future of our society, and I've always done my best to avoid hurting them wherever possible. A courtesy you seemingly forgot to extend to my son. It's painfully obvious you've never learned about the ethical responsibility of an educator. Case in point- did you tell my son before the festival that he had to "make you proud" or something equally insane, despite knowing he practically worships you?"

"Well-"

Hisashi laughed. It was a cold, intense and crackling thing that couldn't possibly be mistaken as anything other than a supervillain's laugh. For an instant, everyone other than All Might finally understood exactly what it meant to be in the presence of the one time Symbol of Evil. "Anything to extend the legacy of the great All Might, right?"

All Might almost attacked him. Hisashi saw the muscles in his body jump, tensing like they were holding back a punch. Eraserhead still readied his capture weapon, a warning in his tired eyes as he stared down the both of them. Yagi continued speaking, barely restrained rage prompting the embers of One for All to flare. The tension had an almost physical weight as it settled across the room. "How dare you! I only asked young Midoriya to do his best for his own sake! I would never stoop so low."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please calm down. A fight here would help no one." Nezu paused for a moment, waiting for the two to settle back into their seats. It took a while. "Midoriya here has valid concerns -I don't want to hear it yet Yagi, let me talk for a moment- but I'm sure there's a way we could resolve these concerns and make sure everyone leaves satisfied." Nezu steepled his fingers together, leaning in closer to All for One. "I'm thinking a consulting role?"

Understanding dawned on Eraserhead and All Might's faces almost immediately as what Nezu had been building towards become clear to them. "Absolutely not. That would be highly illogical."

"Not to mention impossible! He can't be trusted! He's killed who knows how many people, several heroes included!"

Hisashi didn't bother to respond to them, recognizing what was going on here. He made eye contact with the rat's projection, who wasn't even bothering to hide the gleeful amusement dancing in his beady eyes as he watched the tableau unfold over the edge of his teacup. Hisashi couldn't help the impressed smile that grew and grew on his face until he was belly laughing, pounding the table in front of him. "Well played, rat. I agree." Another secret compartment opened in table, this time filled with paperwork already neatly stacked next to a fountain pen. Notably, the hidden compartment was placed right in front of where Hisashi had been sitting. "I knew there was something about you I liked."

"Principal Nezu, you can't do this!" All Might protested vehemently with his massive form scrunched uncomfortably into one of the small conference room chairs, like an adult forced to sit in one of the little plastic chairs that might get set at a children's table during a family gathering.

"Yagi," Nezu spoke warningly, "You may be the number one hero but that does not mean you always know best. You are a great hero, but I am an educator first and foremost. This is my school, and I will have the final say."

Hisashi was working his way through the stack rapidly, flipping through a page every few seconds. "You're getting slow, Yagi." He crumpled and tossed one of the forms off to the side. That page had an addendum that hid a sneaky clause in the legalese about his legal culpability for certain risks he'd take on working with the heroes. It wouldn't have accomplished much, but it was the principle of the game. "This was Nezu's goal the whole time. Please get yourself together, I'm your ex-nemesis and I'm gettin embarassed. Nezu not only can do this- this was his goal all along."

All Might whimpered- honest to god whimpered- in frustration and misery, and Hisashi was drinking it in like it was an oasis in a desert. Nezu spoke again, "Midoriya here is quite right. I think this presents a great opportunity for our students to learn from one of the most successful villains in history. His experience would be quite valuable, especially for some of our more... hard-headed... students."

Aizawa, for all that he looked sick and tired of Nezu's bullshit, reluctantly agreed. "He's right Yagi. While I share your security concerns, this could be good for them."

"Even you Aizawa?" All Might rested his head in his hands, resigned to Nezu's whims.

"If anyone here can judge whether this is a good idea or not, it would be the one with the intelligence quirk."

Nezu's lips quirked at that, though this expression was much softer and more grateful than any expression he had worn up to this point. "Thank you for your trust, Aizawa." The holographic animal glanced around the room, meeting everyone's eyes in turn. "And I hope I can assure everyone here that the safety of my students is my utmost priority."

With that, a vent in the ceiling opened and Principal Nezu dropped out of it, flipping in midair to land on the same seat that his now dispelled hologram had stood on. "With that out of the way, why don't we discuss the responsibilities you'll be expected to take on in your consulting role."

Hisashi looked around, taking in the exhausted face of Eraserhead who would clearly rather be anywhere but here; reveling in the way All Might's face twisted painfully; noted Nezu's calculating and victorious grin- and had the _profound sense that he was going to enjoy his time at UA.

Chapter Text

Izuku came to awareness slowly, slipping in and out of consciousness as he lay on the line between wakeness and not with his face buried in a pillow. He had no desire to deal with the world today, and it took the discipline built through months of All Might's rigorous training plan that to give him the strength to rise and face the day.

He stole into the hallway like a thief in his own home, unready to face the conversation from the night before that he knew wasn't over yet. He was embarrassingly grateful to learn his dad wasn't there right then, sagging when he learned he could put off the coming conversation by just a few more hours.

Retreating into his room he got himself dressed for a run before trying to sneak his way out once again. His mom caught him as he opened the door and took one look at him before coming over to hug him, staring into his eyes with a warmth he felt too complicated about to return as readily as usual. It was impossible for him to pretend nothing had changed from the day before. Should he even try? "Just make sure to stay safe on your run?" She implored in a soft tone, squeezing him tight. "For both of us?"

Izuku grimaced at the reminder of what he was avoiding but nodded anyways. "Of course, mom. I'll see you in a bit. I'll be back by lunch, I promise."

"Thank you honey." She let him go. "I'll be making Katsudon at one. Your dad said he'd be back by then, and I think we need to eat together as a family."

"Thanks," he said, and found he meant it. "I'll see you at one then." His mom didn't comment on how it was just after ten. 3 hours was too much time for a run, but somehow it felt nowhere near long enough to sort out his feelings. Ughh. Learning your parents had been keeping secrets from you was hard, but this?

He doubted anyone out there had advice on how to handle the revelation that your dad was a 200 year old supervillain who had almost killed his idol and mentor, the greatest hero of all time. In lieu of a solution Izuku picked a direction at random and started running, allowing his anxiety to wash away beneath the tide of endorphins that always came with his workouts.

Izuku had surprised himself by finding refuge in exercise in the last year. He'd grown up scrawny enough that it might as well have been a personality trait, but now frequently caught himself wishing he'd taken a chance on exercise earlier. It was meditative for him, a fact which made All Might's training plan a lot easier to stick with. Izuku reveled in the chance to just work and do and not worry about if he was doing something wrong, whether he was saying the right things or accidentally spiraling in his anxiety and making more and more mistakes.

Workouts simplified his world to a clearly outlined goal recorded in neat lettering, in a training plan that flashed behind his eyelids every time they closed with the strain of pushing on. Following through had hurt every day as he pushed himself to his limit, fueled only by his burning desire to go Plus Ultra. Anything to become a better hero. He reminded himself of that every time he felt the desire to stop moving forward. He ran harder, feet pounding faster and he'd bet he'd panicked more than a few people who looked around frantically for a villain at the sight of a teenager running past them at a near sprint.

Maybe it wasn't just his old classmates and teachers who mocked him for trying to be a hero- some days it seemed like the universe itself had joined in, hiding a snicker somewhere high up among flickering stars or just below where he could see on the horizon. It was the only explanation that made sense. One of the only people who'd ever believed in his dreams had been a villain the whole time, and they'd almost killed the first person to give him a real chance at being the hero he'd always dreamed of becoming.

As good as running felt he couldn't keep running forever, and his muscles were already feeling the burn of overexertion. He came to a stop at Dagobah beach, dropping onto the clean white sand- his favorite reminder of just how far he'd come, laughing faintly between heaving breaths. He hadn't even realized he'd been coming this way but it seemed old habits died harder than he thought. 10 months of coming here every day had ingrained it into his muscle memory almost as thoroughly as his way home.

Looking out over the beach with practiced eyes he picked out some small scraps of trash and refuse that had washed in from the tides. He didn't have anywhere to put the garbage, so he had to walk them back and forth to the closest garbage can he could find awkwardly before flopping back down. He'd gone through all the work of cleaning this thing, he wasn't about to let it get dirty again this quickly. He pulled out his phone, which was uncomfortably warm on the side where it had been sitting against his leg.

Izuku started looking things up, trying to corroborate the story he'd heard the night before. Trust but verify, like his dad had always told him too. He scoured the internet for evidence and was confronted by a reality that didn't help his conflicted feelings.

Armed with Hisashi's impromptu history lesson he started piecing things together a fuller picture of history as he flicked through old news articles (the benefit of having been in a digital age for two centuries) and found that it made sense. There were too many gaps surrounding the period when quirks came in, and the tidbits he'd been handed filled the holes left in the tapestry of history like they had always been there. That just made him all the more conflicted. It would have been so much easier to hate his Dad if he'd lied.

Izuku knew they still loved each other, that part was never in question. How could he hate someone who'd sat down at the kitchen table with him to tutor him when he was struggling with his homework? Someone who'd listen to his rants and mumble storms and reply in kind with an enthusiasm and pride like no other adult had ever had for him? Even his mom had only been able to be so supportive of a child with so many interests, so many passions. He really, really hoped his dad had been honest about retiring, because he didn't think he had it in him to fight him if it came down to that.

And that was the rub. Dad had retired for him, because he cared so much about being there for his family that when it became clear he had to make a choice between family and villainy he'd picked mom and him without reservation. His stomach wouldn't be tied in slippery knots and tripping over himself if Hisashi was an asshole, because then he wouldn't feel like a terrible person for not being able to hate a murderer.

Izuku had launched himself at Dad and hugged them when they got nervous. He comforted a villain. Who did that?

Putting his phone away he flopped back like a starfish, stretching his limbs back and forth and making a little sand angel. It was surprisingly warm for the middle of May, especially now that he was running hot from his run. He let the cool morning sand soothe him, sticking to his clothes and curls and running softly over his exposed skin.

Normally when he found himself in a dilemma like this he'd ask himself what All Might would do, but All Might had apparently punched off his dad's face and not told him about it (which Izuku would be talking with him about later), so he wasn't sure following his idol's lead was the right choice.

And wasn't that a weird thought for him? He was All Might's successor, he should be living up to the example he set. It felt treasonous somehow, like he betraying something or rebelling against some fundamental truth of the universe, but he knew there was a better question, one that he hadn't let himself ask because he feared not being able to give the right answer.

What kind of hero did he want to be?

Izuku hung out on the beach for a while longer, relaxing and appreciating the results of his hard work. When he arrived back home his mom greeted him at the door, looking concerned. "Oh my god Izuku look at you! You're filthy! You need to shower, and if you get sand on my floor you'll be the one vacuuming it up."

"Yes, mom."

"Don't take that tone with me young man." Izuku would've argued, but decided discretion was the better part of valor, retreating into the bathroom as soon as he saw a slipper start levitating towards her hand. She wouldn't actually throw it at him, but the threat meant she was serious.

He'd shaken off most of the sand before getting home, but there was still bits stuck everywhere, especially in his hair. He dug his fingers through his scalp in the shower, pulling out the tiny grains as his curls stuck together and grew heavy with water.

He heard Hisashi got home at half past twelve, but Izuku couldn't bring himself to face him. He waited in his room like a coward until he was forced to leave for lunch where the Midoriyas ended up eating silently around the table. The Katsudon was amazing like always and both Hisashi and Izuku were keeping their mouths full as an excuse to hold off the conversation for just a bit longer.

God, being a hero was hard. All Izuku's bravado about heroism had fled sometime between the moment he made his decision and the moment he actually needed to start a conversation, but his plate was getting dangerously close to empty and the delays he could excuse were shrinking. Plus ultra, right? Inko was glancing back and forth between them hardly eating at all as she chewed her lip, her nervousness growing to fill the silence.

With an internal sigh, Izuku began speaking and ended up speed talking like he was worried he'd stop speaking if he couldn't get the words out fast enough. "I love you dad. That hasn't changed, just so you know."

Hisashi, who'd just opened their mouth to speak themselves, flapped their lips for a second as they floundered for a response. They'd clearly been working up the courage to speak as well and were struggling to adjust. "Oh- oh. That's-" He took a breath, steadying himself. "That's good. Great. I mean- I love you too, 'Zuku."

"Yeah..." This was the worst. Could I just punch my dad instead? Heroes punched villains. I'd be much better at that than whatever this is.

Inko, unable to leave things alone there, tried to get the conversation going with a question in an overly cheery voice. "So where'd you go this morning honey? Why don't you share with Izuku?"

Nodding, Hisashi gratefully jumped on the chance at an actual conversation topic. "Well, this morning I ended up heading to UA to talk with your teachers."

Izuku jerked, eyes widening. "Dad-"

Hisashi waved his hands. "No not like that. It was mostly friendly, I promise. Nezu and I ended up having a conversation about some changes UA could make in some of their safety standards to make sure students stayed safe, and we ended up talking about some more general improvements that could be made to their curriculum, especially for the hero course." Izuku eased himself back into a more relaxed sitting position, the telltale glow of One for All that had been building without his notice dying down. "And we came to an agreement that we think could work out."

"And that is?" Inko asked, encouragingly.

"I'll be taking a consulting role at UA and teaching a few classes."

What the fuck. "What the fuck." I wasn't supposed to swear. Shoot. Or talk out loud. Chaos. Glorious chaos.

"Hisashi?! You didn't tell me anything about that while we were waiting!"

"Since when? Doesn't Nezu know you're a villain?

"Since this morning. And I'm retired, remember?" Hisashi corrected.

Izuku tossed up his hands, exasperated. "That's what you're going to argue about? Also, there hasn't been a statute of limitations on murder in Japan for like, two centuries, retiring doesn't make you any less of a criminal."

Hisashi waved his hands with a laugh. "A prosecution would never get off the ground. I'd handle it."

Izuku covered his face with his hands, sinking down until his spine was parallel with the floor. "Do you not realize how ominous that sounds? Also, not being able to be prosecuted doesn't make you not a villain."

"Ex-villain." Izuku looked up at his dad through parted fingers with a thousand-yard stare, daring him to say that again. He raised his hands in surrender. "I just think it's important to remember!"

You know what? Izuku was done with today. The universe was clearly laughing at him. His (attempted) mentor-murdering supervillain-dad is now going to be teaching the next generation of heroes. Izuku didn't bother trying to pinch himself awake- this was far too strange to be a dream. "So what does that mean? Are you going to be teaching heroes? What kind of classes are you going to be teaching?"

"Nezu and I agreed I had too broad of a skillset to be wasted teaching a single subject, and so we came to an agreement that we think will work much better." Hisashi smiled, content with himself. "I've been given the green light to pop in on and help plan and run hero-course specific classes and major events."

"And Nezu just trusts you to do all that?" Izuku asked, incredulous.

"Obviously not. Nezu's actually mandated Eraserhead to supervise me while I'm teaching classes and on campus in an attempt to make sure I can't trying anything. He's hoping that he can suppress my quirk factor for long enough that a hero or the weaponry he's started installing by now can kill me."

"What the hell? Heroes don't kill people!"

Hisashi rolled his eyes at his son, a fond but exasperated smile on his face. "Oh the idealism of youth. It's a damn good thing Nezu got me to teach you all, half of you would've been left to get your rude awakenings on the job. I've been telling you these things for years, I mean think about it 'Zuku. It's not always possible for a hero to save everyone. Sometimes the best option is to remove the threat to protect innocents." Hisashi paused, trying to figure out how to put things. "You know Lady Nagant?"

"Yeah." Izuku paused, looking at that the amusement Hisashi was showing. "Wait, did she try to kill you?"

"Certainly," Hisashi chuckled easily. "She did a pretty impressive job of it too. She was put on my case for a while by commission a while ago when I was becoming more of a visible problem for a while. She's actually the pro hero that got second closest to killing me. Managed to hit me in the upper chest, blew a hole through one of my lungs around a decade and a half ago. It was a bit after you were born, so I was in too good of a mood to hunt her down for it if I remember correctly. She was the HPSC's hitwoman for quite a while before and after until her heroic streak led her to putting a bullet in her handler."

Izuku was not looking for more world changing revelations to be dropped onto his head with all the subtlety and gentleness of an anvil, but it seemed like he was destined to stumble into more of them the longer this conversation went on. "Lady Nagant shot the hero public safety commissioner. You're telling me the comissioner was- you know what? Sure."

"They're an incredibly powerful organization responsible for regulating a superpowered police force. It'd be weirder if they actually followed the laws they help write. I mean, I haven't accessed their records in a while so I can't point to anything specific, but they definitely aren't the bastions of law and justice they pretend to be."

"...please tell me Hawks wasn't trained as an assassin. He's such a cool hero."

"Hawks wasn't trained as an assassin, he's such a cool hero."

"Seriously?!"

Izuku had been horribly nervous all morning. He'd been unable to stop fidgeting restlessly in the car, wringing his hands in patterns that stretched his fingers out without relieving any of the tension he was feeling while his Dad drove him to school ("I'm allowed to use staff parking, so we're going to use staff parking. I'm not taking a train and running through the rain if I don't have to,") which was something he'd never expected to experience.

At least he got to avoid the smattering of reporters that'd posted themselves up outside UA hoping to interview the participants of the sports festival. It'll be fine, Izuku told himself, whispering the litany even inside his own head, unable to trust that something else wouldn't overhear it and ruin his day just to spite him. After his last few days, he didn't think that was paranoid in the slightest.

Izuku didn't truly start calming down until he was sat firmly in his seat in his classroom a few minutes before the bell, relaxing into the white noise of the classes' excited clamoring about the festival and how they'd all had people recognize them on the way into school today. Maybe it wasn't so bad we drove here after all. Unfortunately it seemed even this moment of peace was doomed not to last.

Aizawa-sensei slunk the classroom, for once on his feet and halfway into his yellow sleeping bag. He was followed by Izuku's dad who walked in with a presence that commanded the room and utterly unlike anything he'd ever seen from the even-tempered man he was used to seeing. He was dressed in a tailored suit and looked more comfortable in the well-fitted black fabric that made his messy white hair and dusting of freckles pop than he could ever remember him being in casual clothes.

This was more familiar for him, Izuku realized. This was part of who he was. Bakugo noticed him immediately. "Uncle Hisashi? The fuck are you doing here?"

Aizawa's tired eye's flashed red for an instant, but Hisashi beat him to the punch. "Hello to you too Katsuki! But you should call me Midoriya-sensei while we're at school.

"Midoriya-sensei? You're a fucking teacher now?"

"Midoriya, why did you not tell us your father was a pro hero? Only pro heroes can teach at UA!" Iida san demanded to know, arms waving stiffly.

"He's not a fucking pro you idiots. Do you all really think Deku could keep his dad a secret this long? He'd of blabbed day one," said Bakugo, and for once Izuku appreciated his preternatural ability to shout loud enough to cut through other people's bullshit.

Aizawa took advantage of the momentary silence to head off the rest of the classes' questions. "Midoriya Hisashi has joined the UA faculty as a consultant to the hero course on a limited basis. He is not a pro hero, however I expect you to listen to him and take advantage of his wealth of experience across many fields and disciplines. Understood?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Now, we have an important lesson today on hero informatics. You need hero names."

The silence that had been just barely maintained shattered, and Aizawa waited for everyone to quiet once again with an unimpressed look. "You need them because you all have started receiving internship offers after your performances in the sports festival, but don't get too excited. You're only first years, so these offers don't mean much."

"If I may, Eraserhead," Hisashi looked to Aizawa who nodded, "Unfortunately as first years it's too early for anyone to have a real grasp of your full potential as heroes. These early internships are essentially training opportunities extended to you all because of your sudden ascent to stardom in the festival. While it may be tempting to go with whatever hero you like the most, you should prioritize selecting heroes who will be good teachers for the skills you want to develop. You can and should use me and your other teachers as resources for this- they are pros as well and will have valuable insights into what internships would serve you best."

"With that being said, here is the number of internship offers each of you received." A screen was projected onto the board, displaying a bar chart with a huge disparity. At the top were Todoroki and Bakugo, with 4123 and 3556 respectively, followed by Tokoyami with 360 and the rest trailing off quickly from there.

"How the fuck did Icy-hot get more offers than me?" complained Bakugo, "I won the festival!"

"The numbers don't matter," mumbled Todoroki from the back of the room.

"Yes the fuck it does! You can't say it doesn't matter when you won!"

Todoroki looked up, properly acknowledging Bakugo with a slightly furrowed brow and air of slight confusion, stopping his suspicious glances between Hisashi and Izuku. "I think I can. I only received that many offers because of my father. I didn't beat you fairly."

The rest of the class cringed away from Bakugo, expecting him to explode and possibly even launch himself at Todoroki. Even Aizawa subtly readied his capture weapon for a potential attack only for everyone to be shocked when Bakugo turned back to the front and kicked his feet up on his table instead. "So now you care about a fair fight. Whatever. Pull that shit again and I'll blow your face off before beating you properly."

Todoroki just shrugged and went right back to staring at Izuku and his dad like they were a complicated puzzle to be figured out, fingers at something no one else could see.

"Regardless of these results," said Aizawa loudly, trying to pull the class on track, "You will all be interning with pros, even those of you that didn't get any offers. You all still need the type of experience in the field that can only come firsthand, and for that you will need your hero names. While they'll likely be temporary, you should still take them seriously as there's always a chance you could be stuck with them forever."

He paused for a moment there, like he was building up the strength required to push himself through his next words. "However since this is not my forte, we will be having another teacher come in too assist you all." A heavy, heavy sigh. "Midnight?"

"Hello students!" Midnight shouted, bursting through the door and strutting up to front of the classroom next to Aizawa, then spun and clasped her hands together. "Oh I just can't wait to help you all through your first times!"

Aizawa refused to glance over at her, knowing that if he acknowledged her antics they'd just get worse (and hoping she'd stumble her way into a sense of shame without his guidance) as she pushed and pushed until she got right up to the line where he'd be too uncomfortable and stop just on the right side of it. "The name you give yourself is important," he began, "It helps to reinforce your image and shows the kind of hero you want to be in the future. A hero name tells people who you and exactly what you represent."

Hisashi stepped in once again to add more information as the class was passing whiteboards and markers amongst themselves. "Like Eraserhead said, you should take this seriously. Your hero name becomes part of your brand. They will often be the first thing people hear about you and be the thing that everyone will recognize you with."

A beat as he crossed his arms. "Take All Might for example. 'All Might' comes from the English phrase "All Mighty," meaning all-powerful. It's a promise that he can do anything, solve any problem. It made him the most popular hero in the world," he paused again, looking around to make sure he had the attention of the class. "But it also put him on an impossible pedestal where he could never truly fail, or his very identity as a hero would come into question. You all will be choosing better names than that, which is why I'm here."

No pressure, right dad? Izuku thought as he tapped his marker against his board nervously, the cap still on. Just pick a better name than All Might. The most famous and successful hero ever. Yeah. After a few minutes of the class mumbling and scratching, Midnight opened up the floor. "So who wants to go first?"

Aoyama was the first to step up to the plate. "I have thought about this long and hard, and my name will be: I Can Not Stop Twinkling: The Shining Hero!"

"No," said Hisashi flatly.

Aoyama wilted. "But-"

"No. The epithet is good, but 'I Can Not Stop Twinkling,' is not. It's far too long. Three words is the absolute limit for english names, and that only really works if one of the words is an article or preposition."

"...how about 'Can't Stop Twinkling?'"

"I think it's lovely-" began Midnight, but Hisashi's focused gaze froze her mid-sentence.

"You could survive with that name, but it's definitely not good. It's too wordy, and doesn't have the pop," he mimed a little explosion with this hands, "that makes a hero name memorable. Well, your name would be memorable, but not for good reasons. I'll toss out some ideas for you. Chevalier, Magnifique, Lux, Lucent, Lumiere, Nova-"

"How about Lucent: The Shining Hero?"

"That definitely works. Next!"

Mina ran up to the podium. "Okay, me next! My hero name is gonna be Alien Queen!"

Midnight gasped, appalled. "Like the monster with the acidic blood? Absolutely not!"

Hisashi shrugged. "It's not bad. I mean, naming yourself after a horror monster alien isn't the best idea for a hero name especially with a noticeable mutation, but the reference is oblique and probably wouldn't be an issue."

"Nope! Shota's adorable little heroes will not be naming themselves after scary monsters."

Ashido looked a little embarassed and put out, but rallied with a quick scribble. "I could be Pinky: The Acid hero?"

"Oh that's adorable." Midnight cracked her whip. "Next!"

Asui took the stage. "I've had this name in mind for years, ever since I was a kid. I'm going to be the Rainy Season Hero: Froppy!"

"That works," said Hisashi. I was getting worried there, Hisashi thought, This is the top hero school in the nation, the students should be capable of at least this much. "Next!"

"I'm going to be The Sturdy Hero: Red Riot!"

"Not a bad choice, as long as you're conscious of the homage. Next!"

"The Hearing Hero: Earphone Jack!

"Good. Next!"

Things progressed blessedly smoothly through most of the class before they finally ran into the problem children. "Shoto. My hero name will be Shoto."

"Just your name? In simple kanji?" Nemuri shook her head. "It's too simple. There's no statement in it. It's honestly kind of forgettable."

Izuku wasn't sure he agreed. Shoto (ショート) made sense to him. Todoroki's name Shoto (焦凍) meant burn and freeze anyway, so that's what most people would think of when they heard his hero name. Besides, wasn't Shoto choosing his own name as a hero name meaningful in a way? Like Todoroki was claiming his own name as a hero name. Izuku didn't miss the way his dad didn't speak up against it either and the way Hisashi bit at the inside of his cheek the same way Izuku did whenever he was trying to unravel a complicated problem.

"It's my name." And with enough stubbornness, that was that.

Then it was Bakugo's turn. Izuku could already sense the problem coming from the way Bakugo stamped up to the stage even before he slammed down his board in front of the audience. "King Explosion Murder."

Hisashi sighed heavily. "Bakugo, I was there when you came up with that name. You were nine. Pick something else."

"It's definitely a little... violent," Midnight said diplomatically. "I also think you might benefit from a different name.."

Bakugo huffed, letting the white board fall flat with a loud thud as he jammed his hands in his pockets. "Fine. Lord Explosion Murder."

"Bakugo. That will not work as a hero name."

Bakugo looked to his right, staring Midoriya Hisashi dead in the eye with an challenging glare. "Great. Explosion. Murder. God. Dynamight."

"Hey Bakubro, couldn't you pick something like 'blastboy' or some other normal name? Your name ideas are super manly but they're also kind of a lot for people," said Kirishima, the newly christened Red Riot from his seat.

"Shut the fuck up Shitty Hair, what do you know about hero names?"

Hisashi sensed that this was going to go nowhere but felt that he had to intervene. "Bakugo, you can't talk like that to your classmates."

"Alright then Midoriya-sensei, why don't you give me some suggestions."

"I'm glad you asked," Hisashi said with an easy smile. He'd learned long ago that refusing to match Bakugo's anger caused him to settle himself back down, especially if you were presenting reasonable arguments for why you were doing whatever frustrated him. "There are many interesting names relating to explosions you could pick if that's the theme you want. Things like Blastfront, Blastwave, Napalm, Ground Zero, Nitro, and even something like Dynamight, though that will come with a lot of baggage."

Izuku took his chance to speak up. "I think Ground Zero sounds pretty cool, Kacchan."

Bakugo's head snapped to look at him. "Shut the fuck up nerd. I don't remember asking you."

"Bakugo," warned Hisashi.

"Whatever," he snatched the whiteboard off the lectern, walking back to his seat. "Write down Ground Zero then, I don't care."

Izuku couldn't stop the small grin that stole across his face. He was good at translating Kacchan-speak at this point. That there roughly translated to "Don't embarrass me idiot," and "thanks for the suggestion."

He couldn't poking his oldest kind-of-friend a little though. "No need to thank me, Kacchan."

"Huh?!" Bakugo rounded on him, sparks flying from his palms before pausing, an evil smirk jumping onto his face. "Alright then dumbass, why don't you tell us your hero name, since you've got so many ideas. We're waiting."

He plopped himself back down into his seat looking for all the world like that cat who got the canary. Or the dog, Izuku snarked inside his head, though he wasn't quite sure how to work that into the metaphor. Kacchan hated it when he called him a Pomeranian, especially because Auntie Mistuki heard him say it and started using it too mess with her son. Izuku didn't have time to reminisce though, as people were looking at him expectantly. He looked down at his board which had his nickname scratched on it.

But that didn't feel quite right, did it? Deku was what his friends called him, a term of endearment. It didn't feel right to share it with the world. He wiped it away quickly with the palm of his hand, writing something else down.

"Well Midoriya?" asked Aizawa.

He took a deep breath steeling himself. "My hero name will be Atlas: The Mighty Hero."

"Denied."

"But it's a great name!"

Midnight spoke up hesitantly, unsure of whether or not it was a good idea to get involved. "It is pretty good name Midoriya-sensei. It's strong, heroic and memorable. What's not to love?"

Hisashi shook his head, firmly. "'Zuku. I know why you chose that name. I literally just gave everyone an example of why that kind of name is bad."

"Yeah, using All Might. Real convincing argument."

The class was starting to whisper but he shut them out. He wasn't going to let the confusion of his peers psych him out. "It's perfect for me. It works in two ways. Atlas, as in the Greek Titan, works because I want to be a hero who can hold up the sky for people when things go wrong. Atlas also refers to a collection of maps, and part of being a hero is trying to guide others onto the right path."

Hisashi gave him a disappointed dad look, raising one eyebrow at him. "We both know there's a third reason, and it's a dangerous one. I'm telling you it's a bad idea- I'm here to make sure that the new generation of heroes doesn't fall into the same traps as its predecessor. My decision is final. Pick another name."

Izuku crossed his arms. Who did his dad think he was right now? He was teaching in a hero course yes, but that didn't make him a hero. Izuku still wasn't ready to forgive him, if it even was his place to forgive his dad for everything he'd done. "No."

The class behind him was really starting to mumble now. This was out of character for Izuku. Sweet, nice, dedicated, determined Izuku. He didn't argue against teachers when they told him not to do something, but then again most of his teachers weren't ex-villains. "Deku, do you really have to pick that name?" asked Uraraka, "I mean, it feels like we're missing some context here, but your dad wouldn't tell you no for no reason, right?"

He'd like to think that. He really, really would, but Izuku was pretty sure that it was because the name reminded him of All Might. "I want my hero name to be Atlas."

"Izuku. There's a reason people frown on names based on mythological figures- they carry weight. They're the kind of names that stick, one way or another. Either heroes change away from them and have to deal with that embarrassment forever, or they stick with them and fail to live up to an impossible standard."

Izuku tried not to quail under the eyes of his entire class, two teachers, and his dad. "I can handle it."

"I know you can. If anyone could hold up the sky for others, it's you. But I don't want you to carry that burden for what could be the rest of your career. Especially when we both know this choice isn't really for you."

Oh so that's what dad thinks this is about. And you might even be right, but I'm sorry that I'm going to have to be the next symbol of peace after All Might's gone because of what you did. "I can handle it."

"Izuku. All Might couldn't handle that pressure, and now everyone else is getting to live with the consequences of that. Please, pick something else."

"Midoriya-sensei, I must ask what you are talking about. What failure are you referencing?" asked Iida curiously, "All Might is the greatest hero of all time, I don't believe there is anything to critique about him."

Hisashi let out a frustrated breath. "That's the problem!" He looked around the room, meeting eyes with a sea of blank faces. "Fine. I'll explain. Let's start with a question. Do you all think All Might ever makes mistakes?"

"Of course," said Momo, "All Might's only human."

Hisashi pointed at her. "That's exactly it. All Might is only human. He's bound to make mistakes, so I ask you- can any of you name one time he's messed up? And I mean made a real mistake, not just a mistimed joke or some other silly non-issue." No one answered. Izuku and Bakugo raised their hands, but he waved them down. "No not you two. I know you two can, but you two are utterly obsessed with heroes and you only started noticing these issues once I pointed them out to you both."

"That's hardly fair, Midoriya-sensei," argued Iida, "Just because we can't name anything doesn't mean that no one can, or that that's a problem. Crime has dropped dozens of times over during his career, and organized crime is almost completely eradicated in Japan as a direct result of his actions. Most of the rest of the world is far worse off than we are here in Japan!"

"Yeah, All Might's done so much for us! You're not being fair to him!" shouted one of the girls.

Hisashi closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head back and counting to three. "I'm not denying the statistics, but you all are missing the full picture. All Might? He's not a man. He's not even a hero. He's a phantasm. A symbolic representation of a hero, more akin to a god or idol then a person. It's not that he doesn't make mistakes, but everyone justifies and ignores them because they don't match with people's idea of him. It's cognitive dissonance.

"It's impossible for a person to avoid making mistakes, but in your mind All Might doesn't make mistakes. So any errors, and missteps must be explained away to be reasonable- and the consequences of that have been immense." Izuku- Izuku was uncomfortable with this conversation. Did this count as a villain speech? If it did then wasn't he listening and agreeing with a villain's argument? Did that make him a bad person?

"You brought up statistics, fine. We shouldn't just look at the statistics we like though. Looking at other statistics can get us a fuller picture of what All Might has done for society. For example: As flashy, powerful people like All Might capture the public's attention, they set the standard for what it means to be heroic. Yes, net crime has gone down, at least in wealthy areas with a large hero presence- but it's led to marginalization and bigotry.

"Discrimination against the quirkless, for example, has risen to the point that eighty-four percent of quirkless individuals report experiencing quirkist discrimination in the last month. Amongst people with classically villainous quirks it's as high as seventy nine percent, and could be higher based on where you draw the subjective line of villainous all the way up to the insane number of 98 percent."

Hisashi looked around the room, seeing a mix of horror, confusion and disbelief. "Seventy five percent of criminals have some kind of major physical mutation, compared to thirty percent of the general population. It's around twenty five and three percent for most definitions of villainous quirks.

"While it would be unfair to lay all the blame for this at the feet All Might, the consensus amongst social scientists is clear. Every year, quirk discrimination grows worse as heroism becomes more and more dominated by celebrities with flashier and stronger powers and the public's bigotry towards those that don't match those ideals only grows more intense."

Midnight spoke up, trying to get the class back on track, "I appreciate your passion-"

Hisashi cut her off. It wasn't every day he had the opportunity to talk like this, especially to an audience of students who would almost certainly go on to become important heroes. This was a lesson they needed to hear. "It's not just that. How many openly queer heroes are there in the top 100? Tiger? And he shares the number 32 spot with the rest of his hero team."

He ran a hand through his curly white hair, pulling it away from where it had fallen into his eyes as his energy rose. "The reality is that the hero industry has too many problems to count, and looking at it through rose-colored glasses only lets them fester and mutate. The hero industry has become a symbol of stagnant traditionalism and perpetuated bigotry and discrimination, and at the core of all of those issues is the philosophy behind modern heroism."

Hisashi had been giving speeches for well over a hundred years. He had dozens of muscle control quirks he could use to tweak every aspect of his body language and presentation that he didn't even need to use any more, empathy quirks to read the emotions of his audience, intelligence boosting quirks and memory quirks. He had memorized all the classic speeches and many more that never made their way into the mainstream because they hadn't resonated with people enough.

The simple truth was that he was very, very good at what he did. And in this moment, every bit of his mountain of cultivated charisma was thrown into this performance. "It's the idea that heroes are infallible. That they should have to be. That belief was good for the world, once, in a more dangerous and uncertain time where people needed heroes to be symbols so they could have hope."

Hisashi's eyes flashed with memories of the early days of heroism, when there were no formal laws, no brand deals, no sponsorships. Heroes at that time had been had been vigilantes who often worked traditional nine-to-fives but still went out of their way to protect others, sacrificing their time and personal lives without hesitation. Without the hero industry and support from anyone, they'd fought without any support to do what they could. Some of those heroes he'd respected, even if none had been his equal. "But today it's actively harmful. It obscures the issues endemic to the system and the heroes that populate it."

He slowed his speech, making sure every word hit with all the impact he intended. "Heroism is too entrenched in the public consciousness to go away. It's synonymous with law enforcement, and it's proponents have too much power to allow the institution to be unseated easily. That means the only way to fix it is from within. By changing what it means to be a hero by example."

He stared right at his son in a room that was dead silent. "That's why you can't pick a name like that, Izuku. Because all of you-" his intense gray eyes moved to sweep across the room leaving shivers to race down their spines. "All of you are tomorrow's heroes. And that means you will need to be better than good if you want to change things. You will have to go beyond good to become great."

The room was utterly still. Most of the students were sitting limply in uncharacteristic stillness as they processed. Even Bakugo was sitting quietly with a look of begrudging respect, sitting up straight with a fire Izuku could practically see burning in his chest. Everywhere he looked he saw more of the same- passion and drive that had been sitting there untapped focusing into something white hot.

Everyone else was quiet, which left him in this bubble of silence frantically thinking up a new hero name. He needed to figure something out fast. He could do it. Something personal. Something aspirational. He had to think of something. He could- oh. That was perfect. Izuku changed what he had written down. "I'm going to be Dekiru: The Can-Do Hero."

His dad smiled broadly, pride dancing like fireflies in his steely grey irises. "That's much better. Your hero name is approved."

Iida? Do you have your name chosen yet?" asked Midnight timidly in the silence of the room.

Iida looked down at his whiteboard, shoulders sinking down from his perpetually perfect posture. "Just Iida for now."

Midnight pursed her lips, looking at him for a long moment before nodding. "That will be fine as a temporary name. Please let us know if you come up with something else soon, alright?"

"I will, thank you." Iida did his best to look like his normal, rigid self, but Izuku could tell his heart wasn't it. Maybe if Izuku was the same cowardly middle schooler he'd been a year ago he would've let it go, too nervous to interfere with someone else's business. But he wasn't Izuku now. He was Dekiru, and heroes like him made a living out of sticking their noses into wherever they were needed.

Izuku ended up tracking Iida down during lunch. Normally that would be an unnecessary pursuit, as the tall and rules-oriented boy would be the first person to sit and their group's regular lunch table but for once Iida was distancing himself. "Iida! Are you alright? You didn't come sit with us during lunch."

"I'm quite alright, thank you Midoriya," said Iida, an empty bottle of orange juice in hand.

Izuku frowned, looking at it. "Is that really all your going to eat for lunch?"

"Yes. Unfortunately I don't have much of an appetite right now. I ate a larger breakfast usual."

That right there smelled like a lie. Now to find out why. "Is your brother all right?"

"My brother is fine, thank you for asking." He forced a laugh. "I just overreacted a bit during the Sports Festival."

"If you say so. Are you sure absolutely sure you're okay? You seem a bit out of it."

"I do appreciate you checking on me Midoriya," Iida clapped him on the shoulder, "but you should head back and eat lunch with everyone else."

That wasn't what Izuku wanted to hear, but he didn't know how to push the issue. He threw on his friendliest smile. "It's no problem. Just make sure you reach out if you ever need it."

"Of course. Enjoy your meal- and make sure to eat a full one. We're supposed to have a practical in Hero Basics today."

Heroics class that afternoon was gearing up to be a terrifying experience. All of Izuku's classmates were still riding the highs of having real hero names and talking about their internships. Few put any thought towards what they'd be doing in class today. Bakugo tapped Izuku on the shoulder, startling him. "Nerd. Did your dad tell you what we're doing in class today?"

"No, sorry Kacchan."

"S'fine. Doubt we're going to do anything interesting though. Uncle Hisashi doesn't seem like the type to know how to fight." Yeah. I wish that was true. "Oi nerd!" Bakugo snapped. "What're you making that face for?"

Izuku looked away. "No reason Kacchan. Come on, we don't want to be late."

"You know damn well we're both early. What's your dumb ass hiding now?

"I'm not hiding anything Kacchan!"

"Bullshit. Swear it on All Might."

"I swear on All Might."

Bakugo laughed. "I knew you were lying! You never swear on All Might when you're telling the truth. You always argue about how stupid it is instead."

"What? I'm not lying!"

"Deku. Stop treating me like I'm as much of a moron as you are and tell me what the fuck is going on with your dad. Why did he get hired as a consultant for a heroics class?

Izuku always talked about how smart Kacchan was but he'd really appreciate if he'd be a little less perceptive for once. "I... can't tell you?"

Bakugo dragged him away from the main path to the training grounds, pulling him towards a copse of trees tucked a short ways off of one of the main paths. It was secluded, but not so hidden they wouldn't be able to see other people coming. Perfect for secrecy. "Well you better figure out how pretty fast."

"Kacchan-"

"Don't 'Kacchan~' me. I already know about your shitty quirk, tell me about this too."

Izuku tried to put his foot down. "We're not going to do this right now."

"Yes the fuck we are." Bakugo crossed his arms, positioning himself between Izuku and the way to the training ground. Izuku took a step to his left, Bakugo matched him. "Do you not trust me with it? Or is it some other stupid thing this time?"

Izuku sighed, accepting he wasn't going to get past without a fight that would probably get them both in trouble. "It's not my story to tell, Kacchan."

Bakugo's red eyes narrowed as he did his best to dissect everything going on inside Izuku's head. "I get it. Then I'll just start spit balling over here- Uncle must have a lot of hero-relevant skills in order to get hired as a consultant, right?"

"Kacchan-"

"Fuck that actually, I know I'm right. How many ways could he get that knowledge really? There can't be that many ways. I mean there's being a hero, playing a support role, being a vigilante, or being a villain. And you wouldn't be acting this hush hush with me of all people if your dad was a hero or was some important support worker." He smiled, wolfishly. "So which is it Deku? Is your dad a villain or a vigilante?"

Izuku stared for a long moment, wide green eyes glaring angrily into amused crimson. Katsuki found it adorable- Izuku looked too much like a fluffy little puppy for his glares to be intimidating. "I asked you to stop, Katsuki."

"Fine, don't tell me then. I'll figure it out on my own." Bakugo started walking tossing a last insult over his shoulder. "Don't let this make you late to class, dumbass." Despite his words, Bakugo still slowed his pace enough that he didn't leave Izuku behind. They walked to the training ground together silently as Izuku did his best to avoid the other's gaze, feeling the way Bakugo's glare tried to tear out all his secrets.

Chapter Text

Izuku and Bakugo were the last two students to file in to Ground Beta, silently joining the group of students chattering away as they waited for the teachers to arrive.

"Deku!" shouted Uraraka, running up to him as soon as she noticed him. "Do you think your dad's going to be helping teach this class?"

I hope not, but I'm pretty sure he will be. "I don't know. I mean I guess it's possible, but I really couldn't say."

"Hey Midobro!" greeted Kirishima, "Why'd you keep your dad being so cool a secret from everyone? So not manly dude."

"I wasn't keeping anything a secret?"

"Stop bothering Midoriya." Aizawa snapped as he entered. He looked testy, like he was already frustrated about something and already out of patience for his student's nonsense. "We're going to be doing something a bit different today." Aizawa-sensei was slumped slightly, like the exhaustion normally only visible in his massive eyebags had spread to his shoulders. He was holding a massive thermos of coffee that he sipped from slowly in his scruffy and simple hero costume, the polar opposite from the put together and wide awake awareness of Hisashi who entered after him. "Midoriya-sensei will be leading you all through a special session for this period. Nezu has already approved its contents."

"Eraserhead-sensei! May I ask why All Might will not be here to teach us today?"

Eraserhead's tired eyes dragged over to Iida. "Nezu has pulled him away to teach a special exercise for the third years. Any other questions?"

Several hands went up. He sighed, rubbing a hand against his face. "Any questions that I need to be the one to answer?" The hands went back down. "Figures. I'm just here to supervise this lesson as your homeroom teacher. Midoriya-sensei will be handling you problem children for the rest of this class, so don't even think about giving me more work by not listening." His mouth split into a tired grin. "Good luck."

Izuku looked at his dad who was dressed in the same suit as earlier, the only difference being that the gloves he always wore were gone revealing the tiny holes in his palms that he'd never explained before, but he now knew to be part of his real quirk. Dad looks way too excited about this, he thought with mounting dread.

"Thank you for your attention everyone. I have a challenge for you all today. There we will be one of these during every heroics lesson I help teach, and to help motivate you should you complete these challenges I will award you extra credit for demonstrating qualities that are relevant to being a successful hero. Clear?" The students all nodded. "Today's challenge: before class ends and I tell you all the answer, figure out the goal of today's lesson. The first one to guess correctly will automatically get a passing grade on their next heroics test."

Izuku looked around at his classmates and realized they were doing the same. They were sizing each other up, Izuku realized. He had to hand it to his dad- that was definitely a way to get people's attention. The prize was especially clever too, as the less skilled students had more of a more of a reason to win than anyone.

Yaoyorozu raised her hand. "Are there any other rules to this game? Anything against working together?"

"There's no rules against working together, and doing so will certainly make this easier but only one of you can win the prize for today."

Bakugo didn't bother to raise his hand. "When I win can I get bonus points instead? It's not like I'm going to fail a heroics test."

"I'll allow it."

Hisashi pointed at Iida next. "Midoriya-sensei, is there a limit to the number of guesses we can make?"

"Not at all, though if the guesses start disrupting the class I'll make you stop."

Izuku's mind stumbled over itself in his rush to analyze things, searching through everything that had happened so far for the possibility of extra points. Dad's isolated the relationship between cooperation and competition, making us doubt the ability to work together. It could be related to that? Or maybe it has something to do with-

"Today's lesson will involve testing all of your limits."

"But Midoriya-sensei," said Iida again, "we've already done a set of benchmarks-"

Hisashi laughed. "I'm not talking about something like your quirk apprehension test. It's come to my attention that, like the majority of people today, you haven't truly explored what your quirk is capable of. Today's class will be your first step towards rectifying that, as we work together to figure out not applications for each person's quirk. Who wants to go first?"

No one volunteered, which was to be expected. Most of the students were actively looking away as they tried to appear as inconspicuous as possible, and Kaminari even started whistling innocently. "I will call on someone if no one volunteers." Even Izuku's more headstrong classmates didn't want to put themselves forward first. Who knew if going early would hurt their chances of figuring out the extra challenge or embarrass them in some way? "Yaoyorozu then. Could you explain how your quirk works to everyone?"

Yaoyorozu joined Hisashi at the front of the class. "My quirk is called creation, and it allows me to create any non-living object from my skin using lipids in my body as long as I know the molecular composition of the item I am creating.."

Hisashi hummed appreciatively. "Very versatile. Do you believe you utilize this to its maximum effect?"

Yayorozu shook her head firmly, looking down at her feet. "No. My quirk is too complex, and relies on a massive amount of tactical and scientific knowledge to select the best tool for every situation. I- I am not good enough at adapting to situations on the fly, limiting the effectiveness I can bring to bear."

Hisashi nodded evenly, ignoring the way she shrunk into herself. "Self awareness is an excellent start. The ability to reflect on your weaknesses is very valuable as long as you don't let it become toxic." He looked over to address the rest of the class. "This is a reminder not to beat yourself up over any percieved mistakes. You're only in your first year of hero studies, you are not be expected to be an expert yet. Now, from anyone, how could Yaoyorozu use her quirk more effectively in battle?"

Izuku's mind was off and going before Hisashi even finished his sentence. After many, many hours spent analyzing quirks for his father he could confidently say that this was the once place he could excel. Starting form known information: Yaoyorozu can create any non living thing with her quirk, including gases and liquids, though she prefers to only create those contained. The variety leads to a large variety of options leading to choice paralysis, so she mostly defaults to a short list of objects we've already seen, only creating more elaborate creations when she has more time to think and strategize. Expanding that list is the obvious step- we've already seen things like flashbangs, skates, cannons, shields and small motor vehicles, with the only seeming limitation being the risk of hurting herself by creating too much and the difficulty of creating more complex creations-

"All good points Midoriya, but that doesn't get at the core of what I'm looking for here."

-but she appears to be able to synthesize any material- oh. Oh no. Izuku was talking out loud again. He blushed, looking around and expecting to see his classmate's judging stares but found mostly confusion, which was better than he was used to. Summarize Izuku. What's one big, easy change she could make? "She doesn't work with the right types of material." Izuku turned to look at Creati. "You mostly mimic gadgets and technologies that already exist, right?"

"Yes. It's much easier to work with known blueprints than to come up with novel technologies."

"Yeah, I get that," Izuku began, clenching his fists at his side to prevent himself from fidgeting with them, "but why not replace things in those inventions with better alternatives? Like using diamond instead of steel- It's lighter, stronger, and is way simpler so you could probably create it even easier. Wouldn't it be better to use it instead in almost all situations?"

"I'm forbidden for creating large amounts of diamond or other rare materials, as the amounts I could create it in would depreciate its market value."

"That's not the only material you could use as a replacement," said Hisashi mildly.

"Perhaps, but-"

"Use your head for a second Ponytail," Bakugo interrupted her, "Who gives a shit if you're not supposed to use diamond? There's a fuckload of materials out there that we know about but no one bothers to use for anything because they're way too hard to make. Octanitrocubane for one." Bakugo met the eyes of the class on him challengingly, daring them to say something. "Eyes to yourself extras. I know basic chemistry, so what?"

"Careful Kacchan," Izuku said in a singsong, "that was a pretty big word there. You're sounding pretty nerdy."

"Shut the fuck up Deku. You couldn't even stop mumbling for five seconds when quirks came up, so where do you get off calling me a nerd?"

"You'd think being a nerd myself makes me more qualified to make that judgement."

Bakugo turned away, rolling his eyes and ignoring Izuku's smile. "Just replace the hydrogen atoms in cubane with nitro groups. It's a shock-insensitive material too, so don't worry about that. Wouldn't want princess to blow herself up on accident."

"Thank you, Bakugo," Yaoyorozu frowned, "I think." She looked down at her hands for a moment, concentrating as she synthesized two grenades with different colored pins. "If I'm going to test these we need cover. I don't want anyone getting injured by the shrapnel."

"Couldn't you make us cover?" Izuku rushed to explain when Creati opened her mouth to disagree. "I know you have a size limit, but if you make smaller shapes and tile their edges together you could stick a bunch of smaller plates together. Especially if you make them super thin out of some stronger material, then you wouldn't run into issues with the total amount you're creating."

"That would take far more time than I could ever afford in a combat scenario. I'm not nearly fast enough for that to practical."

"That's why we're in training," said Hisashi, "And if you're forbidden from making diamond then make Lonsdalite instead- it's another carbon allotrope, just arranged in a hexagonal pattern instead of the cubic structure of a diamond. It's been shown to be stronger in lab tests too."

"I'm not supposed too though." Her argument was weak, and by the way it trailed off it sounded that way to her as well.

"You'll be fine," Hisashi soothed, "If it bothers you that much we can get Uraraka to help us toss it into space afterwards."

Yaoyorozu hesitantly set the grenades down gently as she began create plates of the material. Each identical slab of gemstone cast brilliant rainbows across the ground around them when the sunlight refracted through the pile as it grew faster and faster, every one falling from her skin quicker than the one before. Her brow grew a little tighter with each small improvement, though she tried to hide it behind focused proffesionalism.

"Could you all help me assemble these?" Yaoyorozu asked once the pile reached a decent size. "Just be careful when handling them. I couldn't bevel the edges much because I needed them to fit together properly, so dropping them on your feet could be dangerous."

Hisashi walked up to her as the last of the plates dropped next to the others. Izuku picked up one to look at, wishing he had his notebook on him. Add a portable notebook pouch to my costume? Something to think about. Every plate was only as thin as a hand cloth, so she'd been able to generate a enough for a small wall without much issue. Izuku got out of the way of his classes more enthusiastic members, glancing around for something else to do.

Hisashi spoke quietly enough that most of the class probably couldn't hear over the chaotic scramble to put everything together, especially once Kirishima hammering in the bottom row with his rocky hands found some success. Ashido tried to use some of her acid like glue, and that was the end of teamwork as everyone else started trying their own ideas. Izuku winced as he watched Iida drop the stack he'd been holding when bumped from behind, denting his greaves.

Izuku shuffled a little closer, unable to resist the urge to listen in. "- not to beat yourself up over this. Most people go their entire lives without even beginning to approach mastery with their quirk, and your quirk is far more complicated then most. Frankly, it's also much easier for people with an outside perspective to figure things out. You're spending all of your effort doing, while other people get to look at the big picture."

Yaoyorozu replied quietly, "But it just feels like I should know all this stuff already. I've had tutors and quirk analysts and dozens of other people help me and-"

Hisashi cut her off. "You can always find reasons why you should've done more, don't let them make you feel bad for learning now."

Most of the class was still crowded around the crystal structure they were trying to assemble, and Izuku drifted away from the edge of the crowd to avoid feeling like he was intruding. Jiro had probably heard everything too, but she didn't seem like someone who'd use privately shared secrets against people. Bakugo, who had been standing on the other side of the group from Hisashi, laughed and snapped his fingers. "You're trying teach us to use our quirks more creatively, right? That's why were doing this bullshit song and dance?"

Hisashi tilted his head back and forth. "Close."

Yaoyorozu spoke up from next to him, still hesitant but looking slightly more comfortable then she had before. "Is the goal to help us overcome our weaknesses?"

"Almost there."

Other people are making guesses already?! Izuku frantically began reviewing everything up to this point for clues like he was sure everyone else was. The answers were getting closer, and he was running out of time to win. Dad said this class was about testing our limits, but he's not having us go at it like we would if we were supposed to be training quirk tolerance and strength, so it can't be about raw strength.

"It is related to being a better hero, right?" asked Uraraka.

"This exercise wouldn't make much sense if it wasn't, would it?"

He asked the class if Yaoyorozu was using her quirk to the maximum effect, but didn't tell her what he was thinking. He clearly had an idea of what he wanted to get across as he called on her first, but he only spoke up to lead us towards the right answers. That means the goal isn't to get us to the right answers- or at least just to get us to the right answers- it's something else, and even when I was younger he always made a point of tying his lessons into the big picture.

Izuku's mind leaped back to a conversation he'd years ago with his dad as all the pieces began slotting together.

He'd been tiny at the time, probably around six or seven and gripped as firmly as he ever was in his All Might phase. He remembered watching an interview from the day before dozens of times in a row, admiring how All Might had raised one massive thumb to the camera, signature smile reflecting the studio lighting as he answered a question sent in by a fan. The fan had just asked if All Might thought the fan could be a hero despite being quirkless, and to the younger him it was like the studio was holding its breath as it waited for his answer.

Izuku had waited with bated breath before receiving the answer he'd always wanted to hear. "You too, can be a hero!" All Might had exclaimed, voice booming off the walls of the studio, "A hero is someone who goes above and beyond to help others. It doesn't matter what quirk you have, if it's your dream to become a hero you should go for it! Plus Ultra!" He leapt up out of his chair, drawing himself up to his towering height, unintentionally overshadowing everything else in the room as he pointed right into the camera. "I believe in you!"

Izuku had dashed up to his dad (after rewatching the video a dozens of times, of course), bouncing in place and bunching his fingers in his dad's dark work slacks as soon as he got home. "Dad! Dad! All Might said I could be a hero!" He shouted as shook Hisashi's pant leg, eyes watery and bright.

Hisashi had leaned down, gently pulling off the strips of paper Izuku had taped onto his hoodie to look more like All Might and grabbing him by the shoulders to slow him down before he bumped into something. "I've always told you that you can do anything, 'Zuku, though it might take a lot of hard work."

"But All Might makes it look easy! He goes pow and kablam!" Izuku let go of his dad, miming All Might's punches with the all questionable grace someone his age could possess as he shouted, "and the bad guy gets beat by a TEXAS SMASH!"

"All Might is very strong-" Hisashi had begun as Izuku launched his best impression of one of All Might's punches. Looking back he could see the flash of annoyance on his face that his younger self had missed as he picked up and lifted Izuku into his arms before he could hurt himself.

"The strongest!" Izuku had shouted as he thrust his tiny fist into the air over his shoulder.

Hisashi picked up his sentence back up where he was interrupted, "-but he doesn't see everything. He misses a lot of things that he should know better than to ignore."

"Stop lying dad! All Might doesn't miss anything because he's the bestest hero! He's Number 1!"

Hisashi grimaced, a gesture which had confused Izuku's younger self but made perfect sense to him now. It was the grimace of someone who didn't know how to tell him the truth, not directed at him like Izuku had worried when he was a little younger.

Hisashi had ended up nodding along and distracted him for the rest of the night with hero-themed board games and talk with Izuku about his favorite hero's quirks. Nothing else about what they'd done together had told Izuku what he was thinking. They didn't have too- the lesson that he'd been contemplating sharing was drilled into him through a decade of public education anyways.

Izuku hadn't watched that video in years despite setting All Might's, "I believe in you!" from that interview as his alarm for a few years, despite it being one of the few times All Might ever gave his explicit support for the quirkless. Even when Izuku had decided he was going to become the first quirkless hero in his tween years he hadn't been able to bring himself to watch it. The interviewer's face was too much for him.

Most people would miss it- the interviewer was a trained media professional, face betraying little other than the perfect mask of interest and politically correct approval for All Might's message that they intended to, but Izuku would swear up and down that it was the exact same look he got every time he was introduced as the quirkless kid to new people.

People always wore one of two faces. 'Empathetic' pity, like he was a some poor child who'd been so unlucky to be diagnosed with something oh-so-terrible that they'd never admit made him just a bit lesser lesser in their eyes. Those types always ended up turning him into one of their projects, like he was something to be fixed. They always gave up when he pushed them away for trying to make him resemble what a quirkless person was 'supposed to be,' which was invariably some helpless kid, grateful and dependent on his savior.

The other look was far more common. Carefully disguised disgust that people knew was impolite and they did their best to hide though it always showed. He hadn't been able to pick it up at first, but after a while he learned to recognize how people glanced at him out of the corner of their eyes when he walked past, or shifted every time he got near. His presence made them uncomfortable, like somewhere in their subconscious they believed his worthlessness could be contagious. It didn't really matter which reaction people had. They both looked away when he needed help.

Izuku was nine when he looked away from his favorite hero in that clip and clocked exactly what the interviewer thought. The interviewer was the second type trying to look like the first, because that was the proper expression to have. Blend in a little pity, a little empathy and a little care, show it by tilting your head just so and pitching your voice just enough to signal your compassion. He didn't find the words to put together what it was for several years. Infantilizing.

It was so obvious to Izuku once he learned to look past the blinding image of All Might. He couldn't stop seeing it anymore. After that year, he never watched the video again, and his alarm sound changed to something tonally generic and safe.

"Blind spots," said Izuku as he shook himself out of his reverie, "The goal of todays class is to teach us to see past our blind spots."

Hisashi beamed at him. "Care to explain how you got your answer?"

Izuku looked up at his dad's expectant face, and around at his classmates who were all looking at him. This didn't feel like a question he could just say no to. "Umm." Great start. Hero material right here. Aren't we supposed to be able to break into inspirational speeches at the drop of a hat? And I'm stalling now because I can't think of a good enough answer and everyone is looking at me. Perfect.

Hesitating hard, Izuku just barely avoided a voice crack. "Well you were talking about how All Might and our ideas of heroism blind us to seeing things as they really are earlier, and then I realized that you were trying to get the class to participate in figuring out new ways to use our quirks and I realized that you were emphasizing having the class help come up with clever new ways to use Yaoyorozu's quirk and applied to hero work in general instead of just giving us the answer so I realized it had to be something about the process-"

Bakugo flicked his forehead. When did he get there? "You gotta fucking breathe Deku, punctuate that sentence into several, You're talking so fast half these idiots can't hear what you're saying."

"Right." Izuku took a deep breath, trying to bleed the nervous energy out of him. It didn't really help, he hated being put on the spot like this. "Sorry guys. Well, Midoriya-sensei told us all earlier about how looking at things through the wrong lens- I think he said rose colored glasses- but the point was that we might be missing obvious ideas with our quirks, just like we may miss important issues because they're obscured by the parts of heroism that everyone pays attention to.

"So when he came in here with a clear agenda about helping us develop certain skills but made a point out of having us be the ones to think, I realized it was something about the process of finding weaknesses and creative ways to solve problems as much as giving us specific quirk ideas. Then it was just putting things together."

"You're pretty smart Midobro!" laughed Kirishima as he moved away from the prettiest blast shelter construction site that had probably ever existed to throw an arm around Izuku. "You're so freaking manly when you start analyzing things!"

"T-Thanks, Kirishima! That's really nice of you to say, but it's not a big deal."

Hisashi called the attention of the group back to him. "Let's finish up Yaoyorozu's quirk testing before we get too excited." The class was corralled behind the glittering gemstone barrier and handed expanding foam earplugs at Hisashi's reminder. Hisashi took both grenades, looking them over. "How long is the fuse on these?"

"Five seconds," Yaoyorozu answered and he nodded, hefting the one with the white pin first and throwing it clear over the barrier. The class heard a loud bang through their recently created ear protection before he tossed the second, red pinned one. That blast was way louder, and caused Jiro to wince through her protective ear caps.

He led everyone out of the shelter to the blast site, pointing out the difference between the blasts. The first one he pointed out had a faint scorch mark on the ground with fragments of metal scattered around, with some pieces even faintly embedded in the ground. The second blast site was far more obvious. Spiderweb cracks radiated outwards from the site of where the grenade went off, with a tiny patch of shattered concrete at the center.

"Octanitrocubane is one of the most powerful chemical explosives ever tested," explained Hisashi. "We do have ways to synthesize it, but they're complicated enough to make the material more valuable then gold, but she can create as much of it as she wants, and that's just the start of what she's capable of. Yaoyorozu- how much do you know about nuclear bombs?"

"I can't make nuclear bombs, Midoriya-sensei," said Yaoyorozu, rather stiffly.

"Of course not. But hypothetically, could someone with an identical powerset to you and your knowledge make a low-yield, dirty nuclear weapon?"

"...possibly. They would need to do some testing to ensure the reaction went critical."

Luckily for Aizawa's blood pressure and Izuku's nerves, the class calmed down quite a bit from that terrifying admission, with most of the class having gained a healthy amount more respect for Creati. Except for Bakugo of course, who had apparently already guessed that. "Well no fucking duh she can. The USA had created man-portable nuclear weapons pre-quirks. Not my fault you all are too stupid to follow logic its natural conclusion."

Rather unfortunately however, calming down from a discussion of creating and using nuclear weaponry still left quite a bit of room for creative quirk testing.

"Gimme another one Todoroki!" shouted Uraraka, laughing crazily as she tossed another car-sized mass of ice through a nearby building, reapplying it's gravity with pressed hands just before contact to ensure it crashed through with a horrendous, earsplitting noise of shattering glass and crunching reinforced concrete.

Todoroki obliged and created another chunk for her that she started spinning around like a massive sword, a fact she could only get away with because Hisashi and Aizawa had already herded the rest of the class away from the impromptu firing range and away from potentially collapsing buildings as the rest of the class continued to experiment.

"Hey Round Face!"

Uraraka startled at Bakugo who she hadn't noticed walking up to her as she practiced launching massive objects as weapons. "Yes Bakugo?"

"Try throwing some more of those chunks up. I want to try shooting 'em down."

She blinked. "Isn't your quirk pretty close ranged though?"

Bakugo rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles aggressively, holding his bracers in a ready stance in front of him. "Toss something and find out."

"Fire away then," she shrugged, tossing the pillar she was holding far and out.

Bakugo put his hands together and curled his front hand into an approximation of a nozzle, brows furrowed in concentration as he tracked the falling pillar. A bright light sprang up between his hands, focusing into a blinding point. "AP Shot!"

The concentrated explosion blitzed across the space towards the flying pillar, smashing through it and tearing a huge hole through the pillar, sending the ice spiraling. Bakugo shook out his faintly smoking fingers as he smirked to himself. "I wasn't sure how much power I'd need, guess I over did it a bit. Thanks for the idea Uncle 'sashi."

"Of course Bakugo. Getting that to work on your first try was quite impressive."

Kirishima came flying at him as he glomped Bakugo from behind. "That was so manly Bakubro!"

"Get the fuck off me Shitty Hair!" snarled Bakugo, pushing against his hardened arms with sparking palms.

"I can't!" wailed Kirishima, "You're just too cool! You figured out a new move faster than anyone else! And it's so powerful!"

"Of course I did, what did you expect? Now let me go shitty hair!"

"Be nice to Kirishima!" said Uraraka, one hand on her hip.

"Or what Round Face? You gonna pout at me?"

Uraraka hefted a huge concrete pillar in her other hand as she grinned evilly, "We're not on an open field right now. You'll lose this fight."

Bakugo matched her competitiveness instantly, explosions lighting his face as he shifted his stance to throw himself at her on a moments notice. "Did you not just see what I did? You better be careful. I'd end you in a fucking second."

The massive concrete pillar dropped to the ground as Kirishima de-transformed and was finally shoved off. Aizawa held his capture weapon threateningly, arms poking out of the head of his sleeping bag. "No fighting. Save it for next time."

Bakugo didn't back down even with his quirk cancelled. "Tch. You got lucky this time Pink Cheeks."

"Lucky? Keep dreaming Bakugo."

Izuku forced himself to ignore his classmates' arguments as he focused on his own quirk. All his other classmates were out there learning, and he was stuck at the starting line trying to find a way not to mulch his limbs every time he used it. "Having quirk problems?"

Izuku jumped slightly. His dad could apparently be really quiet when he wanted to. Hisashi stood a few feet away looking slightly awkward, just enough room left between them for the weird state of their relationship that neither Hisashi or Izuku had an idea how to resolve. Izuku debated for a moment whether it was a good idea to share before giving in. "Yeah. I can't stop breaking my limbs every time I use my quirk."

"You'll figure it out eventually. All Might did."

He looked up at his dad, searching his face. "You have an idea, don't you?" Hisashi's smile was wry, Izuku dropped his head. "That would defeat the point of whatever lesson you're trying to teach me, wouldn't it?"

Hisashi nodded. "Pretty much. Lets try this. What's your problem with your quirk?"

Izuku glanced around, clocking Jiro almost a block away blasting soundwaves, and Shoji who didn't have any ear-tentacles out. "One for All is just too powerful for my body. I can't even lower the output properly because the amount of energy is too overwhelming, and while I can bring it into line for a moment it takes way too much concentration to do anything else at the same time."

Hisashi stared blankly at him, face giving nothing away, but that was kind of a clue all on its own. Okay. So my problem's something to do with that statement. Need to figure out what it is though. He focused on the well of power that was One for All as he closed his eyes, feeling it respond easily to his pull as the overwhelming font of power flowed into his right arm.

"You said something to Todoroki during your match that I think applies here as well." I didn't think he watched that. He only tolerated watching it with me for the quirks. "Maybe you should take your own advice."

Izuku heard the leading tone and suddenly realized that he couldn't deal with this right now. "Can you just tell me? I'm not in the mood for a guessing game."

"But telling you would defeat half the purpose, just like you thought. You figured out the real goal for this class without my help- you can do this too."

Maybe he could, but the problem was he didn't want to. Izuku was sick and tired of whatever drove his dad to keep doing this. It didn't matter if his reasons were good or not, he wasn't content to let other people decide everything for him. It reminded him too much of how people treated him for most of his life. "Not telling me things is exactly how we got into this mess right now."

Hisashi ran a hand through his hair, pulling his white hair that straddled the line between wavy and curly back up and away from his eyes. "I'm just trying to help you 'Zuku."

"And I'm supposed to trust you to do that?" Actually? That was fine. If Hisashi wasn't going to tell him he'd figure it out himself. Walking away from his dad he ran through what little he could remember of his quarterfinal fight. The whole thing was blurry; he'd had way too much adrenaline in him to feel the pain that should have warned him to stop and that hadn't been great for committing things to long term memory. From what he did remember, he'd told Todoroki he needed to stop holding back, but he sincerely doubted that was what he was supposed to figure out.

Hisashi followed after him, keeping roughly the same distance between them. "Have I ever given you a reason not to?"

"Other than the obvious one?"

Hisashi winced. "Yes. Other than that one?"

Well, no, he hadn't. That was the whole reason he was conflicted. What else did I say to Todoroki? The point can't be me not using enough of my power, that's kind of my whole issue. What else did I say? "It's yours! You quirk, not his!" Izuku struggled to see how that applied here, because his quirk was literally All Might's, and not just a hereditary approximation. It would be quite nice if his situation was a tiny bit more like Todoroki's actually, because that would mean he would have All Might as a dad instead. And now Izuku was feeling bad for a thought he didn't even mean.

Hisashi sighed heavily, and Izuku wondered if his dad had an empathy quirk going to help him. The "connect to your uncooperative, incompetent son quirk." It had to exist somewhere.

"You're not going to be the next All Might, Izuku." Izuku sped up to walk a little faster. Just stab him in the chest next time dad. Wow. He took it back. Maybe- no. He still couldn't make himself believe it. He couldn't do much right now, could he. He couldn't figure out his quirk and couldn't live up to All Might's legacy and couldn't stop breaking bones. If his supervillain dad hadn't healed him, he probably could never have gotten full range of motion back in his hands and been scarred for life, at least to recovery girl. When it was clear Izuku wasn't making progress and was mostly just stewing in frustration, Hisashi offered another piece of advice. "You have to make your power your own."

"I'm trying."

"You're trying to be like All Might. You even shout 'smash' just like he does when he uses his quirk."

Izuku bit back his response. Instead of continuing the argument he focused inwards, feeling the burning heat that was filling his right arm like water getting compressed into a plastic bottle, holding carefully still in an attempt to prevent it from exploding. This was All Might's power, and when held in all its glory his arm felt like a melting and fraying steel cable held under tension, one wrong move from snapping and ripping through everything in the room.

It was just too much for his body to hold, and even turned down as low as he could go he couldn't bring the power levels low enough to make a difference.

It made perfect sense to him, he'd spent enough time doing analysis to know exactly what All Might was capable of in his prime. It wasn't a surprise at all he couldn't bring One for All down to normal levels- that was like asking him to leash a supernova. In a fit of cosmic irony, he'd gone from quirkless to unable to use his quirk.

Every attempt at controlling his power he'd made under supervision had barely mattered. It wasn't like snapping his arm into two pieces or twenty mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Izuku opened his eyes to see his dad who was still watching him. Hisashi shook his head. "You're not getting more out of me. You need to take this last step on your own."

"Why? You could help me fix my problem instead of just talking around it," Izuku gestured towards his classmates, innovating and improving with every passing moment as they worked together without him. "Every second I waste I just fall further behind!"

"Because the reason you're stuck is the same blind spot I've been warning you about this whole time."

Would it kill his dad to be clear for a single second? Izuku closed his eyes again resolutely, spinning on his heel and refusing to look at Hisashi any more. The same blind spot as everyone else? All Might? One for All? Izuku felt sour flames burning inside him in tandem with his gifted quirk. What was his dad's problem? Was it All Might? Well Izuku already knew that All Might was painfully fallible, but despite those failings he could still control One for All a thousand times better than Izuku.

Izuku was just so frustratingly weak that using any one limb was enough to break him. Hold on. If One for All was too much for a single limb to take, then that meant...

Holding back as much of the power as he could he let the electric heat of One for All raced along his body, bucking and shaking beneath his control as hit filled every bit of flesh full to bursting. He lost track of time marshalling that power, holding the tap on his power open the smallest amount he could manage despite the mounting pressure before the power finally settled into his skin a comfortable cloak.

The full power of One for All that lay outside of what he could handle was never more obvious but he no longer felt like he was about to burst, empowered flesh helping moderate the flow a little easier. Izuku tested moving slowly, muscles filled with impossible strength.

Izuku remembered reading once that an arm was about 5% of your body mass, and the power flowing through him now was about how much energy he would fit into a single arm when throwing a 100% punch. The laugh he let out was louder than he expected as his lungs contracted hard. I guess that's why All Might is so loud when talking.

Several of his classmates looked to him in slowed motion as he adjusted to the new named his new ability privately beneath his breath. "Full Cowl - 5%." He looked up at his dad who was grinning proudly, hair standing up amongst lightly tanned gooseflesh as green lightning leaked off Izuku's body.

Izuku launched himself off the ground with a whoop that blurred, up-shifting in pitch as the wind stole the note of his excitement. He struck the wall of a nearby building feetfirst, kicking off of it with the ease you'd find launching off of a pool wall.

Each flipping motion launched him towards more unblemished concrete several meters above the streets below. A maneuver he'd dreamed about one day being possible after watching a take down performed by the #280th ranked hero Batta and his rapid movement style came to life from the pages of his notebook. This is actually working? The world felt slow and his movement natural, body and power responding to his desires faster than he could have possible imagined. For the first time, One for All felt like it was truly his.

His unrefined control forced him to stop soon after in the plaza where his class stood, only truly undamaged and debris-less space in at least two blocks. His lower limbs ached from when he'd lost his tight control of his power taking a leap off the roof of one of the collapsed buildings the class had knocked over during their uncontrolled demolition. Skidding to a halt in the plaza where most of his class stood, he left a trail of smoking rubber before being forced to roll when his limited ankle support buckled fully.

Making a mental note to send along a request for reinforced shoes to the support department, he bounced to his feet in front of the awed looks of several of his classmates. "At least you won't be breaking bones every five seconds anymore," drawled Aizawa after scanning him over for any obvious injuries.

Bakugo stomped his way over from where he had been performing some mix of sparring, arguing and quirk testing with Uraraka. "The fuck was that Deku?"

Izuku's smile was brilliant, though Bakugo's squinting glare was no more severe then normal. "I'm calling that Full Cowling. I figured out a way to use my quirk without breaking my limbs!"

"Fucking finally," said Bakugo, apparently satisfied as he went back to practicing with his new AP Shot technique, which apparently involved carving a skull into a concrete as fast as he could with a series of blasts. "I was worried I wasn't going to have any real competition for the number one hero spot," he tossed out without looking.

Izuku felt a burst of warmth in his chest even as the raging fires of One for All retreated fully, settling his body back into his damaged shoes. "Thanks, Kacchan."

Hisashi cleared his throat. "That's about all of the time we have for today." The class groaned. "Your homework is to attempt to develop a novel quirk application for our next class together Friday, before you all leave for internships. Feel free to use your teachers and peers as resources. Class dismissed."

The class dispersed back to the locker rooms to get changed out of their costumes. Uraraka and Iida came up to congratulate him immediately on discovering a safe way to use his quirk, holding him up for several minutes. Which was why when he exited the locker room several minutes later then everyone else, he immediately noticed Bakugo leaned up against the wall waiting for him.

Izuku tried to ignore him, speeding his pace until he was only barely not running away. Bakugo had no such compunctions, jogging until they caught up to him and grabbing his arm. Izuku turned, dredging up memories of Bakugo's impossible stubborness, familiar from being forced to play together whenever their parents wanted to hang out. "What do you need Kacchan?"

"Walking and talking nerd," said Bakugo as he started dragging Izuku towards staff parking, "So- Uncle Hisashi's a villain?"

"Why do you think that, Bakugo?" asked Hisashi's amused voice.

If Bakugo was surprised by Hisashi's sudden appearance he didn't show it. "Please, it was obvious. If you were a hero I would've known already, which means you were either a vigilante or a villain, and Deku's just as obviously pissed at you. He doesn't get pissed at anybody, so I figured you had to be a villain and probably a nasty one at that. The only thing that makes sense."

Izuku's jaw dropped like a rock. Sure, he was always one of the first to extoll the incredible abilities of his oldest and closest frenemy, but sometimes the stuff Kacchan pulled did still managed to surprise him. "That's quite the deduction Bakugo. I'm impressed."

"I know. Now skip to the part where you idiots start explaining shit at your place. I already texted the Hag that I'll be home late, so don't even think try to get out of this."

Izuku tried to get Bakugo to leave anyway, but when they raised a sparking hand dangerously close to his face he got the message. Izuku spent the entire car ride home cringing away from Bakugo, whose glare was boring a painful hole through him and the car door on his other side. At least his mom was excited to see Bakugo, pinching his cheeks and fluffing his spiky blonde hair. "Oh Katsuki it's so good to see you! You should've let me know you were coming, I would've gotten something to eat for all of us."

"Hey Auntie," Bakugo said begrudgingly, not bothering to fight the treatment, "I don't know if I'll be staying that long. Depends on how much time it takes to pull an explanation out of these fucking idiots."

Inko rapped her knuckles on his head lightly and affectionately. "Watch your language Katsuki."

"Whatever Auntie," Bakugo plopped right down in the middle of their living room, splaying his arms and legs over and out the sides of his usual armchair. "Now talk."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything, if that wasn't fu-fricking obvious."

Bakugo took a thoughtful chomp out of the extra spicy roasted veggie chips Inko kept in the pantry for him, chopsticks questing deep inside for more in the large almost empty bag that remained after their abridged explanation, "Ex-villain or not, I will be extorting a quirk out of you at some point in the future, but that's not what got me confused. What I don't get is how Deku managed to be a wimpy little bitch for fourteen years despite having you for a dad."

"Oh my gosh Kacchan you don't think I'm a wimp anymore?" Izuku had gotten several acknowledging nods from Bakugo lately, but him admitting that even indirectly was a big change.

Bakugo hit him with an unimpressed side eye. "You're still a fucking crybaby, don't get too excited there Deku." Izuku wiped his dry eyes jokingly. "See? I still can't see why All Might gave you One for All when you act like this all the time." He gesticulated wildly in Izuku's direction.

Inko hummed very interestedly. Crap. "Katsuki, did you say you knew about One for All already?"

"Yeah. Deku can't keep his mouth shut for the life of him and neither can All Might." Hisashi and Inko gave Izuku a look. Suddenly his explanation that, 'I wasn't allowed to tell anyone' went from a not so great excuse to one that wasn't going to fly at all. He gulped. Bakugo brushed himself off as they stood.. "Well I'm heading home now. Got homework to finish."

"Really Kacchan? You're just going home now?"

"Yeah?"

Izuku spluttered. "You don't have questions or worries or anything? You're just leaving?"

"Why would I?" Bakugo shrugged. "UA clearly knows 'cause they never would've hired a random office worker, and if Nezu think's he's okay there's not much I can do. Besides, it's not like Uncle Hisashi's a different person from before. Only difference is I may ambush him for extra training sometime."

Bakugo was taking this far too well, and now Izuku felt even worse about his own hangups, wondering if he was being more unreasonable then he thought. "And what do you mean you have homework to do? I thought you finished it all already?"

Bakugo smirked. "Gotta finish the shit that's due after we get back from internships. I'm not going to slack off like you do nerd."

Rallying in a valiant attempt to distract himself from his feelings Izuku quipped, "It's just that finishing homework before it's assigned sounds a little nerdy, Kacchan."

Bakugo barked out a laugh like a gunshot as he knocked the door open with his hip. "No one will believe you."

Izuku giggled back at him. "See you tomorrow Kacchan!"

Bakugo wrinkled his nose at him as the door closed. "Don't sound so excited. I'm still murdering you next time we spar for trying to keep this from me."

Yeah, that was about what he expected.

Chapter Text

Izuku often wondered if his life would be simpler if he didn't have to deal with either of the problematic father figures in his life. It was a strange thought to have after almost 15 years of loving one and practically worshipping the other, but now he caught the thought slipping in almost constantly. If anyone with a mind-reading quirk did exist, (despite the common consensus among modern neuroscientists deeming it vanishingly improbable) he maintained to any that may be listening that it was decidedly not his fault. He was a victim, darnit. Unless being a victim made him less of a hero?

He yanked himself out of his thoughts to focus on his heroics class. All Might was teaching again today, (small blessings) and reading from flashcards as he walked them through a lecture on, "the ethics of the use of force in takedowns." If he was being realistic that lesson should have come sometime before they ever engaged in live combat training like they had on the first day, and it was with great displeasure that he realized he could practically taste his dad's supervillainous fingers all over this development.

Izuku still loved All Might, of course, but neither his classmates or him were blind. Yagi-san wasn't the greatest teacher he'd ever had, (clench your cheeks and yell smash, seriously?) and his classmates were clearly starting to notice it as a bit more of All Might's halo fell away each time they were exposed to a bit of his charming clumsiness.

To make matters worse, as they grew more comfortable with All Might his classmates' reservations about discussing his dad fell away too. "All Might, have you worked with Midoriya-sensei before on any cases?" asked Yaoyorozu with a small, hopeful smile on her face.

Is she becoming a fan of my dad because he helped her with her quirk? Please tell me I'm hallucinating. He's obviously a charismatic supervillain! Is no one else familiar with genre tropes? He pinched himself with a little bit of One for All activated to give it a stronger kick, hoping it would wake him up. No such luck. He looked around at his classmates and was horrified to find that many of them looked equally excited to hear about it. They probably expeted to hear a story of All Might and his dad gallivanting around fighting evil together.

All Might did a poor job of hiding his discomfort, desperately clinging to his signature smile. "Oh. No, not exactly. We were, uhh-" he looked at Izuku for help explaining.

Izuku shrugged infinitesimally, a cheeky little motion that offered no support. He did his best All Might imitation that always freaked other people out, making a thumbs up and mouthing, "Have no fear! For you are here."

That's payback for not telling me about All for One, he thought, before his eyes blew wide after realizing what he did, causing him to sink in his chair until the tips of his curly hair were completely beneath his desk. I just sassed the number one hero. I sassed All Might. Oh my god what is wrong with me?

He cradled his head in his hands, numbing himself from the world and the curious looks of his classmates behind him. Could I give All Might back One for All and move to another country? I'm never going to be a hero at this rate I'm going to die a quirkless failure- he was dragged back to reality by the sound of a booming (if uncomfortable) laugh. "I'm sorry, but that's enough questions for now. We only have so much time for lessons, so if it's not related to what we're doing you can ask it after class, alright?"

"I regrettably must object, All Might!" exclaimed Iida, "You always leave right after lessons are over! Part of being a great teacher is being there to clarify your students concerns, and while I understand that these questions aren't as related to the course content as they should be-"

Even Iida was curious and pushing for answers, which meant it was only a matter of time until everyone turned on him to sate their voracious appetite for gossip. He was currently avoiding the problem by running away from his classmates and eating with the staff, but that was only a stopgap measure.

No, avoiding his friends forever was impossible, but if he was lucky he could avoid them long enough that it became his one of his father figures' problems first. At this point, he didn't care which one had to deal with the fallout, as long as it wasn't him. They deserved it.

He begged off another conversation after heroics with the gossip-hungry fiends by making up a totally real story about how he needed to head home early with his dad, which they reluctantly allowed him to leave for. "We'll make you spill eventually, Midoriya!" shouted Mina, causing Izuku to walk faster, more grateful than ever that the school was mostly empty at 4:10.

Just one more day, he thought, just one more day until internships, and then everyone will have new things to obsess over and I can get out of the spotlight. He really should've known better.

The problem didn't start during lunch period. Or more precisely, problems did occur during the lunch period, That went shockingly well, actually. A school wide intruder alarm had gone off which had caused a bit of panic but quick thinking from Iida, Yaoyorozu and Ochako had quelled it by floating Iida into the air near the cafeteria's exist with a megaphone. "Everyone please calm down. It's merely the press- panicking like this is unbecoming of UA students!" Not exactly what Izuku would have said, but it worked well enough as the students eventually returned to their seats and finished lunch soon after.

The teachers came in a few minutes later and clarified that this was, in fact, a non-issue, and that the alarm had been caused by the press entering the school's premises. The press, who had somehow gotten through the reinforced several-inch-thick steel gate. The gate that Izuku could see out the window was completely missing.

Izuku had the sense to not bring that little tidbit up immediately in front of everyone, especially because the intruder alarms turned off so quickly, but it gave him a reason he could feel good about to dodge his classmates again as he went to talk with Aizawa.

"The faculty noticed that already Problem Child, but you did a good job bringing this to my attention. Additionally, you and your classmates handled that situation very well. I'm-" the next words fought their way out of Eraserhead's throat, and he looked almost constipated as he admitted, "-not embarrassed to have you all as my students. So far, at least."

It took everything that Izuku had to not break into tears and hug Aizawa, though it was a close thing helped by the warning flash of Aizawa-sensei's quirk and readied capture weapon. Izuku settled for a quick bow. "Thank you Aizawa-sensei." Erasure flickered off, but Aizawa continued staring at Izuku, one eyebrow slowly creeping up his face into his messy hair. Izuku shuffled around a bit before finally blurting out, "If it's not too much trouble for you could I please wait here with you for the rest of the period?"

Aizawa stared at him dryly. "Trying to avoid your classmates?"

"...yes."

"Fine, I don't care. Just be quiet, and if your classmates find you you're taking your teenage drama outside."

"Right! I can do that!" Izuku received a very pointed look. "Oh right, I'm so sorry you wanted me to be quiet and- I'll just shut up now, sorry."

Izuku heard a scoff muffled behind the sound of Aizawa zipping himself into his sleeping bag. Blushing, he pulled open a section in his English textbook to review. He earned a few looks from his classmates after lunch for avoiding them which he ducked with quickly muttered apologies.

By some miracle, he managed to survive the next two periods unscathed before finally slipping up right before heroics class. He was wrapping up the homework assignment in class, not wanting him to do it later at home, causing him to miss his chance to get changed before everyone else could get to the lockers.

"Midobro!" shouted Kirishima upon his late arrival, launching himself towards him in for a hug that Midoriya avoided nervously. "You can't keep dodging us foreve dude! You gotta tell us about your dad!"

"Yeah Deku," taunted Bakugo, wearing an evil grin and looking far, far too happy about Izuku's misfortune, "Why don't you explain everything to the extras?"

"See? Even Bakugo agrees with us Midobro!"

"Oh would you look at the time!" mumbled Izuku, "I don't want to be late to the lesson so seeyabyeguys!" Izuku ripped his costume out of his costuem case, Full Cowling sparking off and dashing out of the room in a blur of green before classmates could corner him properly.

"Get him!" he heard shouted from somewhere behind him as he broke out of the quickly forming encirclement, ignoring the sound of the pileup he left in his wake. He skidded along the shower tile, off balance as he tried to pull on the shirt while running. Bakugo's uproarious laughter followed him as he ran, the light at the end of the tunnel to the lockers looming larger as he ran harder, reaching for the chance of avoiding a conversation he really didn't want to have.

His naïve hope was struck struck down viciously by a wall of ice that sprang into existence in front of the door. "Todoroki how could you!" howled Izuku, trying and failing to rub at the bump on his forehead with his arms still tangled halfway into his costume.

Todoroki cocked his head like a little red and white cat and stared at Izuku's disheveled, hunched, half-shirtless state. "I'm sorry. Is this not what friends do? I read on the internet that friends are supposed to mess with each other, and I thought this would constitute such behavior. I would like to be your friend Midoriya. I am sorry if I have offended you in some way."

That was adorable and kind of sad. Very abandoned puppy-core except with (slightly) less puppy eyes, which was lucky because Izuku could and would start tearing up looking at a sad baby animal. "No it's fine. You're fine. That was, uhh super great friend stuff!" Izuku laughed awkwardly, bouncing his foot up and down faster and faster as he heard the cacophony behind him growing ever closer, "But you know what would be super friendalicious?" Why did I say that what does that even mean oh my god I'm an idiot, "I'd really like if you were to stop everyone behind me from following me and murdering me please and thank you."

Todoroki showed no reaction. "I read online that relationships are built on reciprocation. Is this true Midoriya?"

"I mean healthy ones generally are but can you please hurry Todoroki?" Izuku was getting antsy. The ice wall blocking the door was thick, and he didn't think his new Full Cowl style was quite good enough to punch through it without risking injury. I don't think I could go through the concrete wall on the sides either, it looks like maybe 7-8 inches thick based on the width of the doorframe I can see through the ice and there's no windows into the locker room as well, so I would have to break something escaping-

"Then how about an exchange. I help you escape our classmates and their questions, and you will answer a few of mine later. This is my contact information," Todoroki pulled out an honest to god business card from a pocket on his toolbelt- oh hello new hero costume, I'll be sketching that later wait how stressed am I if I didn't even notice his new hero costume- and handed it over.

'Personal business contact card' was printed in elegantly calligraphed katakana at the top of the professionally designed cardstock in a rather on the nose white and red color scheme. Izuku didn't miss the fact that this implied Todoroki had a professional business contact card. Was this what having the number two hero as a father did to people? "You can message me through the contact information printed on this over the weekend. Is this a deal, Midoriya?"

Izuku really hated that this wasn't even the weirdest interaction he'd had in the last few days. What even was his life at this point? "It's a deal Todoroki now please hurry up they're coming."

Nodding once, the dual-colored boy released a massive wave of ice that plugged up the entire hallway into the locker rooms. "Please contact me as soon as possible, I already have several questions selected in advance. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

Izuku blinked at his blank-faced companion with dawning blend of awe, shock and horror shining in his face as he realized that Todoroki had been waiting near the door in full costume. "Todoroki... did you plan this?"

The faintest hint of a smile bent the corners of Todoroki's lips. "Wherever did you get that idea, Midoriya?"

"I- I'm just gonna go," said Izuku, crab walking sideways around Todoroki, pressed to the wall and taking up as little space as possible, "But, umm, can you melt the ice on the door? I don't want to break something smashing through it."

"Not even your fingers?" asked Todoroki as he raised his left hand, fire flickering against his skin as he began to melt the iced over door frame.

Izuku froze in place. "Todoroki...?"

"I am offended at your shock, Midoriya," Todoroki said. The tiny smirk he'd had for a moment was gone without a trace, his cool expression returning, "I would have assumed with your analytical expertise you would have expected this. Endeavor is as terrible with technology as he is at parenting, so I have had unrestricted internet access since the age of eight. I am what many would refer to as a 'dank memer.'"

Izuku's face did strange things when he heard that before eventually overloading and defaulting to blankness. Intently ignoring what was just said, he looked to his right. The ice wall still hadn't melted, but it was thin enough that he was willing to take the risk. He punched through the thin layer that was was left with a shoulder charge, drenching his costume in the melted water and ice shards as he frantically escaped whatever the heck that was..

Class began a few minutes later, with the 1-A boys all arriving together and shivering to Ground Gamma where Hisashi was waiting for them with, in Izuku's opinion, a gentle touch of sadism dancing in his eyes. Was he seeing things that weren't there? Quite possibly. He had just heard Todoroki say the phrase, 'dank memer,' so his grasp on reality was a bit looser than normal.

The class was silent and waiting for his dad to speak even before the chime that signaled class starting over the intercom. The biggest distraction was the excitement. Mina was shifting back and forth so fast that she was almost vibrating as Hisashi called the start of class with the bell. "Good afternoon, class!"

He got most of the class to say it back which seemed to satisfy him. "Hopefully you all were able to come up with new ideas for how to use your quirks in the past two days, because today you all are going to be attempting to do so in a spar with me."

Mina was jumping up and waving her arm before he could get out a second sentence. "Can I go first Midoriya-sensei?"

He nodded, "I suppose so, though in the future I would appreciate if you waited for me to finish talking."

Mina cringed sheepishly. "Sorry? I just thought of a cool idea for some new moves last night and have been dying to see if I can get it to work, and the quirk gym I normally go to doesn't have equipment rated for it."

"It's alright. And before I forget, today's special challenge- the first person to figure out how the quirk I'm using works will get a prize."

"Excuse me Midoriya-sensei," asked Iida with a hint of nervousness, "but will we be graded on this?"

"No. The goal of this assignment is experimentation, not evaluation. Aizawa?"

Aizawa-sensei sighed from where he'd been standing unnoticed behind the class. Was Eraserhead-sensei there the whole time? "I'll take the rest of them to the observation room."

Hisashi stood roughly twenty meters from his student in the center of Ground Beta's largest thoroughfare. The fake street was four lanes across with wide sidewalks on either side decorated sparsely with planter boxes filled with fake trees and flowers near stone benches.

Ground Beta was a strange place, a simulated city in an architectural uncanny valley lacking the natural chaos of organic urban development. An imperfect copy of a city plaza, chosen because of it's thorough coverage by cameras and hidden microphones for the observing students to watch through.

Hisashi stood in the center of it all, hands in the pocket of his suit pants. Ashido followed him, bouncing back and forth between impatience and nervousness. Hisashi raised his voice, projecting loudly to make sure he could be heard. "I'll give you a moment before I start fighting back."

Mina nodded quickly, looking rather relieved. "Thanks sensei!" She clasped her hands together, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth as her face screwed up in concentration. Whitish-pink acid dripped from the gaps between her fingers and dropped sizzling to the ground like an acidic syrup before she opened them to reveal a misshapen off-white orb.

She set it gently on the floor, repeating the process until she'd built a decent pile. A few of them burst on contact with the concrete and several more lost their shape as they sat, in both cases releasing their powerfully acidic contents.

She's making balls of acid to try and help extend her range. Smart, though the new technique takes too much concentration to do on the fly, likely because of the difficulty in building the shells. Hisashi's mind raced, analyzing and extrapolating data based on tiny pieces of data that less clever individuals would miss.

The shells resemble a very soft solid, which is beyond her previously demonstrated ability to control viscosity and intensity before. We'll have to test later if she's capable of manipulating states of matter in her acid further. Though if she could manage it creating an acid that oxidizes into a solid shell would be even more effective.

Regardless, she was taking advantage of the time he'd given her to build a stockpile and practice the technique. Though far from realistic, he allowed the action as his sharp eyes notes each acid ball came out a little more regular then the one before, and after managing to make five or six in a row without one popping she swept them up and held them in her hands or pockets. "I'm ready Midoriya-sensei!"

Hisashi felt a familiar battle-high begin to encroach on the hero-in-training kicked up instincts carved into his genes. He shoved aside the subtle influence of All for One, reminding himself that he was a teacher here. His face split into a wide smile as he called up the quirk of choice for this exercise. "Begin." Overhaul.

Hisashi's hands twitched towards the floor, ready to fill the area his student was standing with spikes while shifting the floor beneath them to close the distance as he looked for the single point of contact necessary to end the fight permanently. His blood sang with the urge, baying for him to assert his dominance, hungry to reduce his opposition to so much dust.

But he was not a young man anymore. He was not ruled by his instincts and urges. He had a goal, and he would see it through. It helped that Hisashi's mind failed to recognize the young Ashido as a threat. Even without any active body enhancement quirks, he hadn't survived two centuries of upheaval by getting lucky, his body had been modified a dozen or so times through experimental procedures and been honed by lifetimes of training into a better vessel.

Dozens of little improvements spread over every inch of his vessel. His bones were a little denser, muscles sturdier, organs more resilient, all the product of the startling lack of scientific ethics that sprang up in the upheaval around the quirk wars. Many an opponent had underestimated him as nothing more than a man made great by an accident of birth. Many a fool lay dead.

He waited patiently for Ashido to start moving, but she surprised him by stopping to ask a question. "Hey Midoriya-sensei? I kept the strength of my acid relatively low, but since you didn't tell us your quirk I just wanted to make sure I wouldn't hurt you with something stronger."

Hisashi added a note to her mental profile. "That's a wise question to ask, and you should continue to double check that in future spars with your peers. I, however, will be fine."

Accepting that answer Ashido sprang into action, hurling a handful of her acid balls towards Hisashi. He didn't even bother to use Overhaul, choosing to weave lightly through the pelting. Ashido readied another handful, hefting them but looking hesitant to move in closer. She's avoiding a close quarters engagement while she tries to figure out my quirk. Smart, but what will she do now that I've shown her she can't threaten me from that distance?

Ashido tossed another volley at him which he dodged with the same ease. Her black eyes scanned the area, clearly coming to some decision before she turned, skating away down the street away from Hisashi leaving a trail of slick acid behind her on the concrete. Not too smart to turn your back on your opponent, but a forgivable mistake.

She skidded to a halt roughly forty meters away before beginning to skate back towards him, arms pumping to push off harder and drive her forward. She snapped her legs together after building up her speed, spinning on her acid like a dancer, spotting with her head snapping towards him with every rotation before whipping her arm around in a wide horizontal pitch that launched another volley at blistering speed.

Tossing himself down flat, Hisashi's fingers sank into the concrete dragging him into the ground as he erected a low slanted shield that reduced his profile to just his eyes. His experience paid dividends, as his quick reaction let the first attack fly past him without losing his eye on Ashido, who was fast incoming draped in a viscous wave that built in size as she approached.

"Very good!" Hisashi complimented as he shoved up to his feet, hand extended as he used Overhaul to separate the man sized blob of acid she hurled into two distinct clumps that flew past him. Overhaul didn't do great with liquids as they tended to decohere far too quickly to be useful, but seperation was still manageable. "I haven't seen you use your abilities like that before. Pay attention. I'm going to start fighting back now."

Ashido looked a little intimidated but didn't hesitate to keep moving, leaning back on her acid resistant boots and skating around him in a wide arc that swept her off the road and onto the sidewalk. Hisashi sprinted after her, weaving between large blasts of acid that sizzled against the concrete wherever they landed. He wasn't going to catch her like this without using another quirk, but he could continue to apply pressure.

What do you do if your quirk seems useless? Is a question that not enough pro heroes know how to answer. And to be fair, he didn't expect a first year student to have a good answer either, but he could always hope for a pleasant surprise. Hisashi's eyes watered as he picked up the faintest scent of rotten eggs with his enhanced senses.

Cementoss' cement uses gypsum or a similar materials as an additive, and either it's in low quantities or Ashido's acid works non-traditionally. Get a sample later to test. Mental note made, his hands came down to meet the floor beneath him, sending a pulse through the earth that made the concrete buck and heave like a whip crack running through a rope.

Let's see what you've got, fledgling hero.

Ashido was so screwed. Midoriya's dad sprinted towards her like a robot, a force of nature that tickled her hindbrain into a cold sweat. He stepped around her best efforts like they were nothing, and even when she improvised a new move on the fly he'd dodged it effortlessly. And his opening assault was ridiculous! Concrete shouldn't move like water. She needed a solution and quick.

Well, if it moves like a wave... Ashido grinned at the thought. I can surf it. Crouching slightly to absorb the shock of the concrete wave she pushed off hard as it crested beneath her. She let out a whoop of joy as she let herself get launched skyward, twisting as she went. Then she realized she didn't have a good plan for her landing. Oh shoot. She probably wouldn't break anything (and even if she did her classmates had survived worse, she'd be fine) but she'd still prefer not to join the ranks of 1-A's bone breakers.

"Need help?" Midoriya-sensei shouted up from below her.

"I got this!" She shouted back as she pointed her palms down. If Bakugo could do it she could too. She lacked the same ability to output force, but he didn't have her dancer's balance. "Acid Jets!" She launched the densest acid she could manage to make down and out, using the recoil to push her towards one of the buildings. It had nothing on the force her explosive classmate could generate and use to fly, but it was enough to make the distance.

Here goes nothing. Focusing on creating two different acids at the same time was hard, but she'd been practicing things like this for a while. One hand went forward to spray a layer of highly corrosive acid in front of her that carved out a lip in the concrete structure while she used her feet to spew more of her slippery acid and ride her impromptu skating track.

"Not bad. Heads up!" She heard the mild smile in Midoriya-sensei's voice from far below. How's he not even breathing hard? The wall ahead of her burst into a mass of obstacles and spikes of metal and concrete. They looked blunt, but she wouldn't be walking away from it without a few nasty bruises. Midoriya-sensei was running along beneath her, maintaining his frankly insane running pace as he kept right on her tail. Seriously, he was running almost as fast as Iida jogged!

She put up her other hand to launch acid forward to try and clear the way. It came out a little limp, slower and less acidic then her normal blasts. She'd used a lot of her stores figuring out her technique and in her opening salvo. Reaching the end of her endurance, she only had enough juice for another big move or two, so when the next wave of obstacles rose up to block her she adapted.

A thin jet of acid blasted from her fingertips carved away just enough space for her to crouch through, the abrasive and corrosive acid focused out the tip of her finger and working like a pressure cutter. Much better. Flicking out her extended hand she threw a bunch of acid forward at once, carving out a path down to street level that she rode down, crouched low to minimize the force of the wind pushing against her.

Then she began to spin.

She pointed her fingers, expelling tiny streams of acid out to her sides at an angle, kicking off the ground as she did so to spin faster and faster until the name of her new Super Move was torn from her stretched lips. "Acid Whips!" The world around her was a messy blur that she couldn't make any sense of. Holding the move through the stress it put on her made the seconds feel like minutes as the acid from her hands started to sputter like a faucet with poor water pressure.

With the last of her acid she increased the friction on her spin with her feet, sapping her momentum and slowing her to an exhausted stop, limbs throbbing like her joints had some of her weaker acids poured into them. Dance class hadn't prepared her for the kind of athleticism she'd need to do things like that.

She sat down heavily, too tired and dizzy to stay standing, eyes closing involuntarily as she did so. A strong hand landed on her wrists, slapping a pair of handcuffs onto her and cinching them down in deft motions. Midoriya-sensei crouched in front of her, barely ruffled as he pulled the handcuffs right back off. She looked up blearily, groaning as she lifted her head. Her neck throbbed from trying to hold it against the force of her spin.

She looked him over. All her herculean effort had bought was a single line of damage torn across the upper abdomen of his suit leaving a flap of nearly severed fabric hanging off his hip. "Good work," he said.

Mina was too tired to argue the point.

The class studied the damage shown on the cameras. Whispers broke out among the students, but it was quiet enough that Aizawa could filter it out. He was grateful. His constant, 'I haven't slept enough in weeks headache,' rarely stopped throbbing behind his eyes around his bunch of over-excited teenagers. He might even have been pleased if not for the fact he had just found himself another problem child.

Most of the cameras in the area were still intact, giving angle gave a different viewpoint of the same destruction. Thin, uneven scars sizzled along the surfaces of Ground Beta's buildings in criss-crossing hatches several inches deep that wove a story of a careful attack slowly growing too hard to control.

A thin horizontal band of cut-apart buildings degenerated into a jerky line that cut chunks of glass and concrete from the walls and sent them tumbling to fall and shatter against the pavement. It was a show of destruction only surpassed by his most destructive students, but that wasn't what his trained eyes focused on.

Hisashi's dodging had been impressive. Terrifyingly so. Aizawa could admit there was no chance of him coming out of that assault as well as Hisashi had without immediately cancelling Ashido's quirk at the start.

The class was impressed, though their whispered words were mostly focused on Ashido's newfound potential. His attention was instead drawn instead to Hisashi's skill. Each wire of acid that had flown towards him was woven through and dived past, and failing that were cut apart by his quirk on contact. Hisashi moved with the clinical grace of a supercomputer, every action poetry born from an inhuman economy of motion.

Aizawa realized a split second into those dodges that even if he successfully suppressed Hisashi's quirks and maintained line of sight on him, with that level of ability he'd be torn apart in seconds in any close quarters fight, even if he suspected Hisashi was using more than one quirk. That level of athleticism fell a little outside of what could be plausibly achieved even if he gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed Hisashi was an extreme example of the Atlas Effect.

Hisashi returned to the observation room in pristine condition trailed by a worn out Ashido, looking over the room and noticing Izuku's raised hand. "Other than Midoriya? Sorry, but you have seen it once before, it's not quite fair" Midoriya put his hand down. Yaoyorozu put her hand up. "Yes?"

"Well it appears to be some kind of telekinetic quirk, allowing you to control objects at a touch." Midoriya's hand shot right back up, struggling to hold his tongue. Interesting. Yaoyorozu continued uninterrupted as Hisashi made a subtle gesture for Midoriya to wait. "It seems to effect a wide variety of materials, which is why I gave a more general classification as a telekinetic quirk, as I can't think of another reason for it to be able to effect glass, steel, and concrete at the same time."

Ochako raised her hand. "Was it a five-point activation quirk?"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. "Nah." When it became clear that Hisashi and several of his classmates were waiting for him to elaborate, he crossed his arms challlengingly. "He was affecting Raccoon Eyes' acid with just a single finger at a time. And it aint tactile telekinesis either Ponytail."

Yaoyorozu furrowed her brow. "Well why not Bakugo? General kinetic manipulation of several types of matter indicates a more general form of telekinetic control, and the quirk was clearly contact-based."

Bakugo let out an explosive sigh. "Look at his stupid suit jacket you morons. If you all weren't too busy picking your jaws up off the floor after watching Racoon Eyes' new super move you also could've seen when he put it back together on the way over. The cameras caught it all. Telekinesis can't repair torn fibers."

Izuku was nodding along, looking relieved that someone else had finally pointed it out. Aizawa smiled broadly at his students beneath his scarf. There were some heroes with years of experience that he knew wouldn't have put that all together as fast as they did. Very sharp eyes.

Hisashi looked similarly impressed, and made no effort to hide it. "Bakugo is correct, but overall it was still excellent deductive work from all of you who spoke up. And for the rest of you, the ability to rapidly analyze quirks is a skill, and one that will be cultivated throughout your years here. You'll have many more chances." He glanced around making eye contact, before turning to acknowledge his son in a voice that hid faint hints of indulgent affection. Aizawa could only notice that because he was practiced at hiding those same hints of impartiality himself. "And yes, now you can explain Izuku."

Izuku's eyes barely left the pocket notebook he'd been scribbling in as he lifted it closer to his face. "It's a contact based matter-manipulation quirk, likely based on a contiguous connection between objects, which discounts gaseous states of matter and any fine control of liquid, vectored through a quirk factor based in your hands that doesn't require a 5-point activation. More evidence for it not being tactile telekinesis is heroes like Captain Celebrity who have tactile telekinesis can generally only use it to lift objects whole or in part and not for that kind of manipulation.

"The quirk also doesn't appear to have classical elemental or material limitations either, and based on the way that all extruded obstacles maintained the same visible structure and composition as the original material it doesn't appear to be capable of matter generation, which returns me to my initial conclusion that it's a rather advanced form of intent driven matter manipulation. My guess would be it probably works a little bit like Momo's quirk, but that's unfounded speculation."

Aizawa hummed lowly, surprised at the analysis. It was professional and accurate, and though it lacked much of the jargon and exacting technical precision that professional quirk analysts might use it carried all the signs of careful practice. Midoriya talked fast and with clear passion, but clearly enunciated his words and formulated his reasoning clearly.

Hidden by his messy hair and shadowed face, Aizawa's eyes narrowed at Hisashi. While UA didn't suspect Izuku of anything nefarious, the signs that Hisashi had trained him were obvious.

Hisashi met Aizawa's stare with a leisurely side-eye and a quirked lip as Izuku flipped his notebook shut, noticing the stares of his classmates and flinching away as he awkwardly stuffed his small notebook into a pouch on his costume. And that was part of why the father-son pair were so confusing.

Midoriya didn't act like a child groomed to be a powerful villain. He didn't have the attitude or the presence that generally came with the confidence you needed to stare down heroes. He guessed it didn't really matter. Aizawa would keep vigil, and the second Hisashi stepped out of line he would be there for his students. His hand fell to rest naturally next to the unfamiliar weight of a holster hidden in the folds of his costume.

Hisashi turned to him more fully, inclining his head in respect before taking control of the class again. Aizawa forced his hands to relax. His eyes itched to activate, to equalize the difference between them and come down like a force of nature on Hisashi's head. He fucking hated schemer villains, and this one had the added advantage of enough power to beat All Might in a straight fight. He nestled deeper into the fabrics of his capture weapon as he waited and watched.

"Yaoyorozu, Bakugo, Midoriya, if you three could stay back for a moment?"

Hisashi processed and filtered the reactions of the class with ease. Izuku was frustrated and cautious, Yaoyorozu was shifting and looking around nervously while Bakugo strolled confidently up to him. The rest of the class left relatively quickly, tired but talking happily about the things they'd done today with only the occasional curious glance.

He waited for them to clear out fully, noting the way Aizawa hovered around him. He was sure Aizawa meant his laser focused gaze to unsettle him and keep him on his toes, but he found it funny instead. He'd stared down and slain those that were more monster than man in his day, and Aizawa was far from the first quirk canceller to threaten him.

"I'd like to offer the three of you a chance to intern with me. While I am not a licensed hero, Nezu has already confirmed that I will be an acceptable alternative during this period."

"And why should I work with you? I'm not 'boutta waste my time with you when I already have offers from top heroes," Bakugo stood defiantly, confidently asking what Hisashi could do for him.

Hisashi allowed himself to match his energy, grinning wildly. "Because I'm better than all of them." Hisashi's quirk purred in his veins at the statement. "Combat training, battle theory, quirk analysis, field rescue, undercover work, detective skills or anything else, I'm better than any living hero at their best skill on their best day."

"Those are some pretty fucking words Uncle 'Sashi, but all I'm hearing is a bunch of talk."

"Katsuki," Hisashi began, in his driest and least impressed tone, "I don't have to prove anything to you. If you feel like running around wasting your week with Best Jeanist then by all means. I'm not going to lose any sleep over it."

Bakugo's eyes narrowed to slits, weighing things behind his eyes before evidently coming to a final decision. "Fine. But I want a serious spar sometime next week."

"You know what? Impress me enough, and I'll consider it."

"Then you better be prepared to get blown the fuck away."

Hisashi turned to his other two potential interns, measuring them. Yaoyorozu looked a bit put off by their interaction, but that was fair. Bakugo was a lot to deal with if you weren't familiar with him. "Yaoyorozu?"

"Yes?"

"Who were you planning on interning with?"

"...Uwabami?"

He grimaced. "That's not a great choice. Uwabami can teach you a lot about public relations and creating a popular media presence, but I get the sense that's not what you want for yourcareer."

Yaoyorozu shook her head. "Not really. I mean, I would like to be a popular hero, and I chose her because she seems to know a lot about how to deal with the public, which I'm not very experienced at."

"And that's totally okay, however I think I can serve a similar role while also being able to help you master your quirk."

"Then I'd love to intern with you. Thank you for this opportunity," she said, bowing.

Hisashi faced his son who preempted him with a defiant stare. "No."

"Izuku-"

"No. I'm not interested."

Hisashi did his level best to stay calm and reasonable. "Izuku, you don't even have an offer right now-"

"So? UA has some heroes on contract who will accept people who didn't receive anyone. I'll go with them."

"I've already checked. None of them are equipped to be effective teachers for you."

"They could teach me about heroism," he said, and Hisashi could tell that the only reason the word wasn't spat was because they had spectators.

It was taking a lot of effort for Hisashi to not let his frustration show. You didn't convince an angry teenager by getting angry at them, after all. "Izuku, I just want to help you."

"Oh yeah? Then tell me why you're making these offers."

And this was the issue. He'd broken Izuku's trust, and now he couldn't believe that he was being genuine. "Because I want to help."

Izuku scoffed. "Yeah right."

This was an unbelievably vexing situation for Hisashi. If he was willing to lie than this would be an easy sell, he knew his son well enough to push all the right buttons to get his heroic streak to kick in and blind him, but he didn't want to do that. Hisashi hated lying. It was a strange trait for a scheming supervillain who had masterminded plots stretching across centuries, but it was true.

Lies broke trust and created rifts just like the one he was dealing with now that couldn't be bridged easily. If he'd told his brother the truth, then maybe- he shook himself out of old memories. He had to figure out how to handle this conversation while being honest, because he didn't want to lie if he didn't have to.

"I'm serious. Your class has a lot of potential, and I don't want to see it wasted by incompetent training."

"Is this some big plot?" Izuku asked, crossing his arms. "Just trying to get all the kids with potential to like you so you can bring them into whatever scheme you have planned?"

Bakugo was apparently finding this incredibly entertaining. That made one of them. Everyone else was in varying degrees of discomfort and confusion. "No. I-"

"Young Midoriya there you- oh. It appears I am interrupting something."

"All Might!" Izuku whirled, smiling. It was a biting contrast to how he had been treating Hisashi. "No, it's fine! We were just talking about where I was going to intern."

All Might was on edge here, though Hisashi was sure his students had missed it. The blonde oaf was an old hand at projecting his brand of mindless positivity. "Well then I suppose it was lucky I found you so fast! I was talking with an old friend of mine when he told me he'd be open to mentoring you."

Izuku looked like All Might has just pulled down the moon and offered it to him. I could give him a matching injury on his other side. It would be so easy. "Really!? That's awesome! But, uhh, who is it?"

"His name," All Might shivered minutely, "is Gran Torino."

Bakugo and Izuku traded looks, checking to see if the other knew who that was. The name bounced around in Hisashi's head for a moment before placing it. "Oh, was that Shimura's friend?"

All Might's smile seized, cracking into an aborted snarl and back in an instant that the average person likely couldn't process fast enough to notice. "Yes."

Hisashi noticed Izuku was looking at him with suspicion and a small amount hostility. He took a breath forcing himself to push through something deeply, deeply unpleasant. A peace offering. "Gran Torino, right? He's... not incompetent. You would probably learn things from him."

All Might looked stricken, which helped Hisashi feel a little better, but Hisashi was mostly gladdened by the way Izuku's expression relaxed, becoming a little more excited and a lot less angry. "You're not even that positive when talking about All Might! He must be amazing!"

"...Amazing." Hisashi fought to get the word out as a noncommittal comment instead of the distasteful grimace that the bitter words made him want to make. He was damn sure he heard a faint snort from the direction Aizawa was standing, but he put it out of mind.

"Yaoyorozu, Bakugo," he called out, "come with me so we can handle the paperwork and plan where to meet, as I unfortunately don't have a massive, expensive hero agency."

All Might didn't react to the jab, but that was fine. If his idiocy got Izuku hurt again he'd have much more to worry about than a verbal jab. He hoped he gave him the excuse- Overhaul had opened up a lot of possibilities for torture that he hadn't had the chance to explore with his retirement, and while he didn't enjoy it as much as some sadists he'd worked with it was never good to let your skills get rusty.

Chapter Text

Two days after the sports festival...

Hisashi walked through UA's oversized campus in a way that was carefully calculated to come across as natural, relaxed ease. Glancing around he noted the soaring ceilings in every hallway, and the way the blocky concrete buildings often the size of skyscrapers filled the sprawling complex to create sprawling, coverless grounds. He took his time meandering, pointedly going the away from Nezu's office several times as he explored a campus whose public layout he'd already memorized, making eye contact with the disguised cameras and security installations that weren't listed.

He enjoyed the process far more than he thought he would. He'd been in poor form for a mastermind the day before when he was signing his contract, wrapped up in worry and a need to maintain his safety with a more direct quirk loadout in front of All Might and Eraserhead. As a result Nezu had managed to nudge him around so subtly that he doubted the two other heroes even noticed what was going on.

It was almost embarrassing how long it took him to work out the other mastermind's goal, but that disadvantage ended here and now. Until he confirmed Nezu's intentions and goals aligned with his own he had to treat him as an enemy- he'd made the mistake of trusting another quirked genius early in his career before he wizened up to how their game was played. Knowledge is power, so when dealing with Geniuses you couldn't afford not to play their mind games.

Which led to the overcomplicated mess that was his present situation. Signaling, countersignaling, misdirection and obfuscation tied together into a complicated game that made the political intrigue of his first century look tame.

Take the present conflict he was currently engaged in, provoked by his early arrival. Nezu couldn't send someone to collect him and bring him to his office because they both knew Hisashi already knew the way, and thus doing so would signal he was afraid of what Hisashi might find, and Hisashi had early arrival had guaranteed that he could do all this and still be exactly on time so Nezu couldn't use his lateness as an excuse to pull him in anyways.

They both knew that the other one knew, but true mastery of the game was based on figuring out exactly when to time stopping those recursive logic spirals was most likely to leave your opponent off balance. He gave a cheeky little wave to an extra well hidden camera as he made his way closer to Nezu's office, having timed everything so he could knock on the door at exactly 9:00 AM. The door swung inwards in front of his knuckles. Cute.

Nezu was sitting patiently on a couch sized for him in front of a low table, teacup in hand as he blew gently on the steaming liquid. "All for One." An opening introduction, acknowledging his role, history, and implying Nezu knew things about his past that could give him an advantage, inviting Hisashi to play on the defensive.

"Nezu." A decline. Referring to Nezu as the principal (as he often referred to himself) would implied Hisashi's deference to his role, instead of acknowledging him as an equal, and stating that he was unafraid of anything Nezu thought he could manage.

Nezu took a long, slow sip of his drink as Hisashi adjusted to the uncanny proportions of the room. It shared the same supersized construction as the rest of the campus, but all the furniture was resized and changed to rest at comfortable sizes for Nezu. It lent a dissonant quality to the room, like you were in a doll house where everything failed to fit together quite right. It also ensured that any visitor would be forced to subconsciously accommodate UA's Principal. "I'm glad you feel you can bring your concerns about the school to me, though I believe our student's internships falls slightly outside of your purview."

Hisashi pulled on a few speed quirks to close the distance, blurring forward to kneel stock still in front of the tea table in a formal sitting position, the annoyingly small chair that had been there shoved to the side, another conscious and pointed rejection of the opportunity to conform. "My concerns have more to do with the problems surrounding the internships."

Nezu set his tea down, flipping Hisashi's cup over and pouring him tea before refilling his own. "I'd hope that as a consultant for our school, your concerns extend beyond your son's person."

Hisashi sipped at the excellent blend. Slightly sweet with floral and earthy notes. Firm but pleasant, delivered with a reminder of Nezu's priorities, and therefore what compromises he might be willing to make. "You have good taste."

Nezu's beady black eyes did their utmost to bore into Hisashi. "I like to think it's better with company. No sugar, right?"

An assertion about company indicated cooperation or an alliance. It stood to reason that he wanted something from Hisashi, everyone did, but the way he was going about it indicated that he was relatively confident in securing it. He's confident about something. A trump card? Something I want? "I'd like a touch of sugar, actually. And I'm always willing to hear offers."

Nezu nodded slowly. The internships will not be rescheduled, of course. Far too important an opportunity for my students this early in their careers, never mind the difficulty we would have finding another time that worked for both our students and all these heroes' schedules."

Opening with a halfhearted explanation for his unwillingness to change his plans. Push him on it. "Is it a matter of difficulty or willingness?" Nezu maintained his outwardly neutral apperance. Fine. If Nezu wasn't willing to reevaluate just yet, Hisashi would just have to start playing his hand out. "Is that why the your prioritized reaching out to agencies near planned Meta Liberation Front protests?"

If Nezu was surprised at his access to secure information like that, he didn't show it. "Is that a problem?" Nezu asked mildly. "Destro and his allies stumbled across quite a bit of extra funds in their early days."

Hisashi bit down harshly on his surprise, and was relatively confident he managed to hide his genuine shock.How the fuck did he manage to trace that? That was half a century ago, and those payments went through a half dozen shell intermediaries before ever touching the MLA. "Are you a sympathizer?" Implying that I'm not.

"Only in particular. Their organization has some good points, but misses the mark on most others."

"Care to give me any more specifics?"

"Not particularly." Nezu and him lifted their tea at the same time to drink, before smirking toothily at each other as they realized what they just did.

Hisashi blew on his tea with the fire breath quirk his registry listed him as having, heating the liquid up quickly before pouring the whole thing down his freshly fire resistant throat. "More tea, please."

Nezu poured him more obligingly, letting the silence sit for a moment before finally giving Hisashi something to work with. "I suppose I am at least somewhat sympathetic to their aims, if not their methods or practice."

"Ah. So you also suspect we're going to see some of them turn violent."

"Confronting these issues will force our students to grow, and they will be safe in the hands of various pro heroes."

Hisashi sighed, finally recognizing what was going on here, and Nezu's real goal with these internships. "This will not go well."

"I've made allowances for the risks."

Nezu's movements were starting to make sense. He had set up a lot of things in the background to ensure his student's safety, manipulating which agencies they were likely to pick through ordering their internship packets that he'd accessed in advanced with a rather nasty set of technopathy quirks during his walk through the building. But physical safety wasn't the only thing in play here. "The kids aren't media trained. I am telling you for certain that this will go very badly."

"UA has always believed in providing an opportunity for our students to demonstrate their merit. Sink or swim, so to speak."

Hisashi frowned, wrinkling his nose at that prospect. "You better not actually believe that."

Nezu's mousey face brightened into a smile. So he didn't. That was good, that was a terrible attitude for an educator to have. "How cute. Shigaraki has a heart after all. If only you found that earlier, maybe you wouldn't have been hunting for One for All all this time."

The tea pot clattered to the ground loudly amidst a rain of wooden table shards. That bastard did not just- Hisashi leaned in a little closer, face already returned to an impartial mask. This wasn't the first time he'd had some of his worst history thrown in his face by an overconfident quirked Genius, and it wouldn't be the last. If only it didn't hurt quite so bad each time. "Come on fourteen. Take your cue from the Greeks- bravery is rewarded. Hubris, less so."

Nezu didn't move to fight, like most geniuses direct confrontation was not in his instincts, but his white fur still stood up as he growled with the deep voice of a bear, rodent eyes narrowing to inky slits as his lips curled back to reveal sharp teeth. "The last person who called me that was a member of the Diet."

So I was right about Nezu being the one to do that. "The last person to throw One for All in my face is running around with a hole in his side."

Nezu's grin blew past unfriendly to downright malicious, tail snapping back and forth flick by flick, a slow white metronome ticking away the seconds whose tension choked the air between them. "Ah, but our blonde friend is still walking."

Hisashi hated being a spoilsport, but they had escalated past the point where he cared about 'cheating.' There was a time and place for the game, and when masterminds started throwing around painful personal histories that was about where that ended. Audio-empathic Synesthesia. Empathic Connection x2. "For your sake, I hope we don't have to be enemies."

Reading emotions on people with extremely non-standard biology was sometimes inconsistent, but what he was sensing was certainly plausible. The feelings Nezu's old experimental number brought up appeared like a keening ball of white rage and annoyance laced with the slimy mumbling ooze of guilt and loss. "We are not."

If Hisashi was a younger man he might've lashed out directly. As an older man, he might've pushed plans into motion to accomplish the same thing, but far more discreetly. But Hisashi's time as a father, cultivating his patience and care for someone other than himself, had changed him more than he'd expected. He had priorities now, and alienating Nezu would only push him farther from his true goals.

"But you're not going to change your opinion on the internships." A return to their original conversation, and an offer to move past that conflict.

"No."

Not particularly encouraging, but not a hard shut down. At least he answered the question. Secondary objectives then. "Then I have to ask if I can extend my own offer to students of my choice."

Nezu paused for a moment, his emotional landscape steadying as he weighed the viability of that proposal, the smooth neutral gray of focus paving over the bubbling undercurrents of emotions he hadn't been prepared to handle. Hisashi could admit to being blindsided as well, neither of them expecting the other to have as much information as they did. Nezu's tail stopped flicking, settling down and falling to rest on the teal couch. "I can allow that."

Hisashi nodded once, reaching out to the table in front of him with both hands, Overhauling the remaining pieces back together and setting the teapot back on top in a peace offering. The carrot, power demonstrated freely and my capabilities implied casually.

Then, using a minor aerokinesis quirk, he pulled all the broken wood fragments together and reshaped it, holding up the delicately crafted wooden wing the size of his palm between them. Its slick, waxy surface caught the light like polished bronze. The promise of the stick.

He set the art piece on the smaller table in front of Nezu as he turned to talk away, pausing without looking back in the doorway. "Thank you for the tea," he said, as he warped back to his car.

Back to present.

Unknown Number: Hi I'm Midoriya, is this Todoroki? This was the number on the card you/he gave me, so if you're not Todoroki, I'm really sorry for messaging the wrong number and I hope you have a good day.

Todoroki Shouto: It's me. Why did it take you so long to message me? I've been waiting since Friday and its 12:30 AM Sunday

Midoriya Izuku: I'm really sorry about that I'm kind of stressed out really badly right now and between training and everything I kind of forgot to message you.

Todoroki Shouto: Happens I guess

Todoroki Shouto: Can I ask my questions now? I can hold off a little longer if you need to sleep right now

Midoriya Izuku: Sure yes. And I don't mean to be rude, but are you okay?

Todoroki Shouto: Yeah why?

Midoriya Izuku: You don't talk like this in person. I really don't want to be rude, but you sound/talk/write differently. Way less laconic.

Todoroki Shouto: What did you expect?

Todoroki Shouto: Talking online is way less stressful for a lot of reasons

Todoroki Shouto: Anyways it's question time, you ready?

Midoriya Izuku: Sure, but only a few. We both need to sleep.

Todoroki Shouto: I'll just ask more later. I have ur number now and I will find new ways to contact you if you try and block me.

Midoriya Izuku: Todoroki?!

Todoroki Shouto: Relax, I've got a good reason. I've been watching you since I first saw your quirk, I know you better than you know yourself. If I don't make it clear running isn't an option you will flee every interpersonal conflict in existence unless you're actively protecting someone else

Todoroki Shouto: First question: Are you the love child of Midoriya-sensei and All Might?

Midoriya Izuku: TODORKI?!

Todoroki Shouto: Answer the question.

Midoriya Izuku: No! I have a mother who I love very much! I have her hair color! What is wrong with you?

Todoroki Shouto: So you deny it?

Todoroki Shouto: Also quite a bit.

Midoriya Izuku: I'M NOT JUST DENYING IT

Midoriya Izuku: And if you want to talk about it I'm always here and willing to listen or talk, whatever you need.

Todoroki Shouto: If you're not denying it then you're admitting it. I knew I heard you mumbling under your breath about your 'dads' Thursday.

Todoroki Shouto: And don't even try to be my therapist, Midoriya my mental illness power scales too hard for anyone to try

Midoriya Izuku: No! That's not it! All Might isn't my actual dad, he's just done a lot for me and I kind of accidentally projected fatherly affection onto him that he probably doesn't even feel

Midoriya Izuku: Also try and remember that everyone is capable of healing. If you don't want to talk to me then you should talk to Hound Dog or another trusted adult.

Todoroki Shouto: Imagine being that dumb (to both of those messages)

Todoroki Shouto: All Might kept meeting with you specifically before the sports festival, visiting you in the infirmary and the like while having a very similar quirk. Before I met your dad (who's pretty much just a taller, palette-swapped version of you, that's the only reason I buy it) I thought he was straight up ur dad.

Todoroki Shouto: But with this new data, limited as it is, I'm being forced to take my reasoning to the obvious conclusion.

Todoroki Shouto: All Might has friends in I-Island who gave him the technology

Midoriya Izuku: Todoroki, no.

Todoroki Shouto: Todoroki, yes.

Todoroki Shouto: Is it the three biological parents thing? I doubt green hair is a recessive gene in either Midoriya-sensei or All Might

Todoroki Shouto: How about this. If you can explain to me how you look exactly like Hisashi-sensei, while also having an almost identical quirk to All Might I'll drop it

Midoriya Izuku: Our quirks aren't that similar! All Might's doesn't have a visible power expression of lightning like mine does.

Todoroki Shouto: You're dodging the question1!

Todoroki Shouto: I am vindicated. No need to keep denying it, I know the truth

Todoroki Shouto: Next question: Did Hisashi-sensei and All Might do an enemies-to-lovers thing where Hisashi was a tortured morally grey villain fighting against All Might until they fell in love and into each others arms and beds?

Midoriya Izuku: .afakjgdfhjkslck

Midoriya Izuku: ????????????

Midoriya Izuku: ...I need brain bleach what the heck

Midoriya Izuku: Why would you do this to me Todoroki.

Midoriya Izuku: No. No, none of that happened because All Might and my actual dad are not, have not, and will not be in a relationship. They kind of hate eachother.

Todoroki Shouto: Enemies to lovers to enemies, got it.

Todoroki Shouto: Also my lady doth protest too much

Midoriya Izuku: That's it, I'm going to bed. Good night.

Todoroki Shouto: Do that and I'll resume this inquiry in front of the whole class when we get back from internships.

Midoriya Izuku: TODOROKI WHY

Todoroki Shouto: My need for answers is bigger than my social anxiety

Midoriya Izuku: I still can't get over how different you are over text

Todoroki Shouto: To be entirely honest I will probably not be able to look you in the eyes when we see each other again because I will be so embarrassed over this but for now the emotional distance of an online conversation is giving me the strength to keep going

Todoroki Shouto: I also noticed you didn't argue about the villain thing, and you've been pretty consistent about going point by point denying things so far

Midoriya Izuku: ...

Todoroki Shouto: It's either that or vigilante

Midoriya Izuku: I'm not going to answer questions about this. That's not my story to tell.

Todoroki Shouto: fine, I'll respect that.

Todoroki Shouto: Next question then: Are your arms okay? They looked pretty bad after our fight.

Midoriya Izuku: Yeah! Recovery Girl and my dad worked together to make sure there were no problems, and now I feel better than ever.

Todoroki Shouto: Good. That's good to hear.

Todoroki Shouto: And final question, I guess: Will you call me Shouto?

Todoroki Shouto: You hurt yourself pretty badly helping me a lot during the sports festival and I think that makes it fair

Todoroki Shouto: I mean you don't have to if you don't want to, that came out weirder than I wanted sorry

Todoroki Shouto: I mean weird at all.

Todoroki Shouto: Actually never mind. You can ignore all that

Midoriya Izuku: I'd really like that actually.

Midoriya Izuku: And you can call me Izuku then!

Todoroki Shouto: I can do that. Thanks Izuku

Todoroki Shouto: And good luck on your internship.

Midoriya Izuku: You too Shouto. Good night.

Todoroki Shouto: Gn.

Izuku's everything hurt. 3 days of sparring with Gran Torino had left him bruised and battered in ways he didn't even know he could be after he got beaten down by a crazy geriatric with air jets in his feet. He swore he could see the shadow of All Might's workout plan in Gran's training methods as he was pushed right to the limit and beyond. Unfortunately, he also saw why All Might seemed like he was scared of his teacher now.

"Good training is all about finding the right questions to stress test looking for answers," Gran Torino had said, grinning madly after cleaning up the fake murder scene he'd greeted Izuku with, lightly decorated with sausage oil and ketchup. "I'm going to be asking you a lot of them. Try and keep up."

Well at least he's true to his word. Gran Torino had started asking tough question after tough question until Izuku could give the right answers. Could Izuku keep up Full Cowling even after taking a foot to the jaw at a hundred miles an hour? Now he could. Could he bounce off of walls at highway speeds, sprint and fight without making dangerous mistakes while physically exhausted? Well no, but he was a lot closer than before and he'd learned what he needed to work on because "hero's don't get the privilege of being well rested for every disaster."

The stress testing also benefitted his quirk a lot, allowing him to handle between six or seven percent of One for All. So despite how tired the internship left him feeling, Izuku couldn't help but feel like this was everything he'd needed. His peers had all been using their quirks for a decade and he now he was finally making progress on catching up to everyone else's starting line.

"At least you're willing to adapt new skills into your fighting style," groused Gran Torino as he tore into a microwaved pastry with abandon, "My first pupil was an idiot who only ever learned how to punch."

Izuku leaped to his idol's defense, covering his mouthful of his mom's packed cooking with a hand. "All Might's not an idiot, he's a master at using One for All! I can't even do a tiny fraction of what he can."

"And?" Gran Torino barked gruffly, "You've got his quirk, you'll be capable of going pound for pound with that musclebound brute eventually, but you're far more creative with it, at least so far. That's the only reason I'm even bothering to come out of retirement for you."

Izuku wasn't sure whether to start crying or jumping to All Might's defense, ultimately stalling out before giving up on emotionally processing his feelings about that. "Gran Torino?"

"Yeah?" Izuku hesitated, not sure quite how to say something. "Spit it out zygote."

"Are we going to be doing anything else on this internship?" Izuku cringed at how that sounded and rushed to correct himself, "Not that I'm not super grateful for all your help training me so far, but you know, it's kind of been a lot of the same?"

Gran Torino considered for a moment before shrugging. "Guess it can't hurt to tell you. I've scheduled us tickets for a train to Hosu tomorrow, we're going to meet up with a friend of mine who's willing to be a sparring partner for a day or two. You'll build bad habits if you get too used to fighting against me."

Izuku snapped his arms to his side, bowing and keeping his glee at getting to work with another hero quiet. "Thank you so much Gran Torino!"

"No problem." Gran Torino looked up, licking his fingers clean before launching into an abrupt flying knee towards Izuku's chin. This wasn't the first time Gran Torino had done something like this during their time together, so Izuku managed to yank his head and tongue back and out of the way turning a blow that might've knocked him unconscious with a bloody mouth into one that just sent his world spinning.

"If you've got the energy-" Gran Torino bounced with his air jets midair as Izuku turned to track him forcing him to keep spinning and prevent him from setting into a ready stance and focusing on bringing One for All online faster, "-to waste on thanking me-" Izuku put up an forearm to block Gran's high kick, only to realize it was a feint and getting blasted into a wall by a kick to the chest, "-then we can go another round."

Settling into a defensive stance, chin tucked and arm's up as Izuku continued summoning up One for All. Unfortunately, he still needed to focus on metering his power carefully to start full cowling, but after half a week of endless combat trials a single nasty blow wasn't enough to break his concentration. Gran Torino bounced around the room, landing hit after hit from his blindspots until- blessedly- the world slowed down and Gran Torino became easier to track.

Of course easier was a relative term, they were still a blur that he could barely follow which was why Izuku hadn't even managed to land a hit on Gran yet in all their spars. He raised both arms protectively over his face and chest to block the strike he thought was coming, only to take it to the gut instead.

He let out a grunt as he fought down frustrated tears. Every missed punch he threw and blow he failed to block grated on him harder then the last as he kept failing. All Might had chosen him to be his successor, and for what? To embarrass his idol by wasting their quirk as he failed once again for his third day in a row? Maybe if I make it look like I'm mimicking one of his moves, then feint a change-up before going for my real attack-

"BANG!" Gran Torino screamed in his ear as he flew past, redoubling his assault as he pressed Izuku harder then ever, speeding up again like he was proving how he wasn't even trying. "Quit your woolgathering!" Gran Torino kept talking, his voice coming from every direction at once. "You stand still like that thinking in a fight with a real opponent and you're dead. Imagine a villain gets one lucky shot in. Boom, One for All is lost forever."

Well what am I supposed to do? Izuku thought frantically as he kept his defense up, turning away strikes as best he could and taking many more as he gave his best effort to stay on his feet. You're easily 5 times as fast as me and have literally decades of battle experience on me. I'm not even good enough at anything to touch you.

The next hit knocked hit him in the side, sending him stumbling into a couch he hadn't noticed and throwing him off enough he threw his arms out instinctively to catch himself. "You're wide open kid!" A second kick knocked him flying over the couch, and a final spinning axe kick from the other side spiked him down onto the low table, shattering it and Izuku's Full Cowl.

Izuku groaned, staring up at the ceiling. Gran Torino's white haired head dropped into his vision from where he'd stopped on a wall, staring down at him with a disappointed frown. If Izuku could shrink and hide his face amongst his splinter-filled curls he would've. "Here's another training question. What did you do wrong there?"

Izuku's eyes slid closed as he laid there in thought. Everything? "I didn't move?"

Gran Torino tutted as he pulled a crumb of his earlier pastry from his beard and ate it. "Is that a question for me?"

Izuku shook his head, trying to project a confidence in his voice he didn't feel from his place on the floor. "My problem was that I didn't move enough."

"That's true. Now why was that a problem?"

Considering what happened in that spar? "It kept me passive the entire time, giving you control of the fight in an environment and situation where you had a major tactical advantage."

"Sorry, I should have been more specific. You're right about all that, but I wanted to know why you were so passive," he said as he poked a finger into Izuku's forehead.

Izuku was too exhausted to play twenty questions. He had to keep improving so he'd stop wasting All Might's trust, and he couldn't do that if his teacher wouldn't even tell him what he did wrong. "Because you're a pro hero with decades of experience on me and a mature mastery of your quirk and fighting style and there wasn't anything I could do that could get me an advantage?"

Gran Torino stroked his beard, tilting his head back and forth. "That's not what I'm getting at here. Follow me." Izuku pulled himself up, shaking and knocking away splinters and wood dust from his costume and casting a worried glance back at the destroyed furniture. "Don't worry about it, I'll just bully Yagi into paying for it later."

Please don't bother All Might because of me," mumbled Izuku, feeling a stabbing pang of guilt as he looked back.

"Don't feel bad kid, I'm always looking for any excuse to cause problems for that oaf. He's got enough money." Izuku let himself be led back to the quirk gym Gran Torino had rented for them as he was lacking an agency with the proper facilities, something he'd probably also paid for using All Might's money making him feel even worse.

"I'll be back in a second kid, just gotta grab some things from the back. Come find me if I'm not back in a few minutes?"

Izuku nodded, only half-listening to his parting words. Once Gran Torino was out of sight he curled up against one of the padded blue walls, bonking his forehead against his knees as he sat. I'll just sit here for a minute, then I'll be ready to keep going. He was being stupid; there was no reason to be upset that he hadn't even managed to graze his pro-hero teacher after days of sparring, it made perfect sense that a pro hero was on a different level from him.

That didn't stop his frustration from burning at the corners of his eyes. Blinking away angry tears he wiped his face and tried to get control of himself again. Stupid, stupid Deku. Gran Torino came out of retirement to help train you with All Might is paying for everything you need and you're still not good enough.

He pressed his watery eyes hard against his knees, wrapping his elbows around his legs tightly like his arms could drown out the thoughts he'd been trying to avoid. All Might gave his quirk to the wrong person. Villain kid. Undeserving.

It was impossible to stop the spiral now- every leaking teardrop that tracked down his cheek was another black mark against him. He fought to get his breathing back under control, to quiet the hiccupping gasps that pulled at his chest and stomach suffocating him.

The door to the back creaked open some time later causing Izuku to snap to his feet, wiping his eyes and staring at the floor in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of his ugly crying.

Gran Torino's voice was heavy with age and concern. No no no that's not good. "Sit back down kid."

"N-no, I'm fine, I'm sorry I lost track of time I should've been paying more attention instead of wasting your time feeling sorry for myself- Are you covered in ketchup again?" Gran Torino tried to pull off the same fake death trick twice?

"Sit down," Gran Torino said more forcefully as he pulled Izuku down by his white t-shirt sleeve. "It appears I have an apology to make."

"No not at all!" Izuku shook his head furiously, "It's got nothing to do with you! I'm just being stupid and a crybaby, it's not your fault I can't get myself together."

Gran Torino let out a whooshing sigh. "No, that's not true. I wasn't being fair to you. I was pushing you too hard."

Izuku would've shot up to his feet again if not for the hand on his shoulder holding him in place. "What? No! If anything I need to be pushed harder! I can barely control All Might's quirk, I need to give this my all!"

Gran Torino's grayish brown eyes met Izuku's, searching. "Do you want to hear about what kind of person All Might was when he was your age?"

Even startled by the topic change, Izuku gave the obvious answer. "Of course!" He's All Might!

Gran Torino's face revealed nothing by showing too much; Izuku wilted as he failed to parse the mixture of wince, twisted smile and head tilt that showed there. "I first met Toshinori when he was still quirkless. My friend, Nana Shimura, had taken him under her wing a couple months before when he rushed in to save someone from a villain despite being quirkless. Just like you did, actually. When she died, she entrusted Toshinori and his training to me. It was hard for me to deal with emotionally, but physically it was almost laughably easy."

He stared off into the middle distance over Izuku's shoulder. "Even at 15 he was larger than life, standing over 2 meters tall with shoulders as wide as the burden he wanted to carry for the world. He was already well trained and strong even before he got One for All, so when he did he hit the ground running.

"It sometimes felt like he was born for that power," Gran said, smiling fondly, though Izuku doubted he even knew he was doing it. It was like they were stuck under a spell- he'd keep getting fed nuggets of history, as long as he didn't speak and break the magic. "He went to America to train and grow, working to become strong enough to defeat the man who killed my friend." Yeah, that was part of the problem. Would Gran Torino even tolerate me if I told him who my dad was?

"The crazy bastard pulled it off too. Yagi, me, and a few others hunted the villain across half of Japan, rooting out allies and secret bases by the dozen even as All Might brought an end to an era where villains ruled." Gran Torino yanked himself out of his memories to stare right into Izuku's soul. Izuku gulped, unable to look away from his gaze.

"He was strong, uniquely so. He had to be to handle the fate of a country. But even for him it came with a terrible, personal cost. And then all that power, all that responsibility- That fool boy passed on the weight of the world to you, didn't he?"

Izuku shook his head fiercely. "All Might-"

"That was a rhetorical question. Yagi is a gods-damned monster for granting your dream without preparing you for it. You're nothing like him," that struck Izuku harder than any of the hits Gran Torino landed during their spars, "and you know what I think? You were bullied in school, probably failed by the teachers too."

Izuku bluescreened. "Uhh-"

"Figures," Gran Torino scoffed angrily. "You know something? All Might never had to deal with that. He was beloved everywhere he went. Even when he was quirkless he was well liked."

"What?" That was both the most obvious thing he'd ever heard and the most impossible one. Izuku sniffled in bafflement.

"It's true. In our time something like 40% of the population was quirkless, and most quirks were weaker then they were now. All Might never knew the cruelty of little men, and that gave him an iron spine. He never had to doubt if he was worthy, because no one else ever made him question it. It's different for you, isn't it?"

Izuku's mouth flapped around open as he searched for words to hide how he felt like all the skin and flesh and bone covering his heart had been torn off to bear something he wanted hidden from the world. His unworthiness he felt hissed in the light.

Gran Torino pressed on. "When I pushed him his muscles burned, but his heart didn't hurt." Gran Torino rocked back off his knees, groaning as he shifted to sit criss-cross. "Too many air jets for these old bones. And don't apologize for that," Gran Torino cut off Izuku's apologies with a look, "I know my body."

He paused to regather his train of thought. "I said All Might was a monster, and I meant it. Not all monsters can see how they're hurting people. He's given you so much. You can't even tell what kind of hero you want to be other than one like All Might, can you?"

What? Of course Izuku wanted to be like All Might. he was the greatest hero ever and had given Izuku everything. "I can see you're not understanding this."

He shook his head heavily, switching tacks. "You want to know why I look like a hot dog right now?" Izuku chuckled wetly at the reminder, looking over the red stains that were everywhere on Gran Torino's yellow costume. "Because I wanted to help you learn another lesson I covered myself in ketchup for the second time in three days. When you came to check on me and rushed over to me without thinking I was going to take advantage of your distraction to kick you again.

"It was going to be a lesson about needing to find the balance between acting on instinct and overthinking everything, because I thought that might help you, but now? Now I just smell. That is a problem you'll need to fix, but it's not a problem I can fix on my own.

"I know you didn't get any internship offers at first. I didn't give you one either at the normal time because I couldn't be bothered. I'm in my late 70's for heavens sake, I don't have the energy to teach another successor of One for All.

Gran laughed, shaking his head and looking up into the air fondly. "But All Might kept texting me about you. Telling me about how incredible and driven you were, how much of Nana he saw in you, and how you needed a trainer capable of pushing you to master One for All because he wasn't good enough to do that for you."

"All Might said all that about me?" Izuku hated how weak and hopeful his voice sounded as he asked that.

"Yeah. Practically begged me to come out of partial retirement to help you because he believed in you. That's why I owe you an apology- I trained you like you were the next All Might. But you're not that. Hells, you shouldn't want to be that. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you?"

Gran nodded once in acknowledgement. "Our first fight, you struggled to use One for All at all because you were distracted and slow. Our second? You grazed me, one of the fastest living heroes in a straight fight because you surprised me by coming up from under the couch. You weren't rushing in without thinking, and you didn't allow yourself to overthink. This internship would've been very different if not for that. I would've enjoyed beating up the next All Might for a week, training you half-heartedly then sent you on your way, but instead I'm calling other heroes I haven't talked to in months or years to try and find extra training partners for you.

"Midoriya Izuku," Gran Torino said his full name for the first time. "I think you're capable of more than you believe. I've taught some of the best heroes this world has ever seemed, trained All Might personally and followed him around the world on his journey; I know potential when I see it." Izuku's wrist creaked painfully as Gran gripped it, yanking Izuku down closer to his height.

"I think you're wrong for wanting to be the next All Might, but it's not my place to tell you what kind of hero you want to be. So let's see it," Gran smiled broadly, "One last spar for the day. No doubts, no hesitation, no extraneous thoughts. Prove to yourself what everyone else already sees in you." The only warning Izuku got was Gran Torino's grin turning into an evil smirk beneath his domino mask. "Go."

Gran twisted around Izuku's arm like a snake, air screaming at the jet-driven speed of the knee but Izuku was already throwing his arm aside to throw off the pro's aim as his mind raced. I need time to start Full Cowling. If I can last at least a few seconds, then I have a chance. Gran adapted instantly, releasing Izuku's wrist and abandoning the surprise attack, torqueing their core hard to straighten their legs out and jet away.

Gran Torino's legs came together, blasting a massive column of air into his chest and Izuku grunted as his arm was pulled partway from its socket. No. That was the wrong choice. Jet's primary quirk interactions are dependent on his breath and his leg direction, and despite Jet being perfectly suited for insanely rapid blitz attacks with powerful strikes leveraging momentum, it provides him no direct strength. Not like One for All.

Izuku needed to stop overthinking things? He needed to prove himself? He bet he looked like Kacchan right now, wearing a grin so wide it became a sneer as he moved to pull a man he'd grown to have the utmost respect for into the most brutal scrap he could manage.

If he was in his prime this strategy would never be viable as he'd tear me apart in an instant, but he's a retired seventy year old man. As long as I hold on to him he can't leverage his biggest advantage.

Gran Torino showed every bit of his decades of experience by shifting immediately to wrap around his arm try for an arm bar- no fanboying until later Izuku- but Izuku growled through the stabbing pain and numb nerves to swing the hero towards the ground with his grip on their wrist. Gran Torino grunted, marking Izuku's first successful hit in 3 days.

Finally! His momentary celebration cost him when Gran Torino- not nearly as stunned as he'd hoped- got a foot in his face and blasted a jet of air up his nose, spinning and yanking on Izuku's already dislocated arm.

Izuku screamed as he choked, and it took everything he had to avoid losing his mental grip on One for All as red lines of power inched up straining muscles. Dragging his uninjured arm over while black spots dancing across his vision, he got a second hand on Gran Torino's arms and yanked them in for a headbutt that cracked against their sternum.

The jets stopped as Gran Torino fell to Izuku's side with the wind knocked out of them but failed to stop the man himself as they contorted and threw a kick at Izuku's pelvis that blocked by turning his hips.

They wrestled back and forth as Izuku desperately fought to prevent Gran Torino from escaping him without getting trapped in a hold. It was like fighting a snake, Gran just kept striking and slithering around everything he attempted as they looked for an angle to coil around him and squeeze.

Izuku did his best, but the difference in their skills was painfully obvious. Despite being stronger, bigger and heavier he was getting manhandled on the ground. Disaster finally struck him as Gran got both legs over him, pulling his arm straight and arching their back to apply pressure.

Moments before he would have to cede the fight, the red lightning crawling up Izuku's body finished branching along their winding circuits and he was Full Cowling. Izuku flexed his arm in as hard as he could, folding Gran Torino over despite his best efforts and superior leverage and breaking the hold.

"I think-" Izuku sucked in heaving gasps of air as he fought not to pass out from pain as he threw his body on top of Gran Torino. It wasn't a hold, but Gran Torino was smaller and from his position could only land weak kicks that Izuku barely felt through One for All. That was the most intense thing I've ever done. "I think that's my win."

After another second of trying to pry open Izuku's fingers Gran Torino relaxed, tapping out before rolling Izuku off and looking him over. "Holy shit kid. I didn't think they made them like you anymore."

Izuku looked up at him from his spot limp onto the floor. At least he won the fight this time. "Didn't you just say I should prove myself?"

"Prove yourself didn't mean let your possibly dislocated arm get twisted while outside of its socket and keep fighting through the pain. Now sit up, I'm going to help you reset your shoulder. It doesn't look too bad but I want to make sure it's in properly." Izuku winced as he sat up, but allowed Gran Torino to guide his arm into a neutral position, check his wrist and start working at the arm muscles gently. "Does it feel numb? Can you flex your fingers?"

"No and yes. It's hurting, but not nearly as bad as what I dealt with in my fight with Shouto."

"The Todoroki brat? We're going to need to have a conversation about letting yourself get injured for no reason."

"Why? I did what I had to in order to win."

Gran Torino closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "You're willing to risk permanent damage to win spars and a glorified sporting events. I take back the part about you being smarter then Toshinori, you're just a different flavor of dumb. Turn on One for All again, the extra durability will prevent damage from the manipulation."

"At least I did it?" Izuku said sheepishly, but as he winced under Gran Torino's firm fingers he felt much, much lighter than he had.

Gran took one arm off his shoulder, bending his head forward and wrinkling his nose. "You have ketchup in your hair."

Chapter Text

The commanding bang of the espresso-brown doors locked Shoto into the office. Dark couches and chairs, blocky and straight from a minimalist catalogue surrounded a low table and rug. A brassy gray metal chandelier purchased from somewhere suitably bourgeois with European swoops and pedigree hung over the room like a guillotine. There were no personal affects to warm the room.

It was impersonal in the way only the office of a workaholic could be- perfect artifice, perfect efficiency. Though workaholic as a description failed to capture the whole of who Endeavor was. That term implied a compulsion to labor, an inability to stop working that bordered on an addiction. Shoto knew better.

Endeavor had taken every step towards this 38th floor corner office in the second biggest agency in Tokyo with careful intention. He'd given up everything to become a top hero, things that weren't his to give. That was why Shoto was standing here in silence, waiting in discomfort for someone to speak. And why Shoto hated him.

Endeavor sat at his desk in costume. His broad shoulders canted forward over a pile of after action reports and case files. The fires that framed his face in the place of facial hair were wispy, lower then they ever were when patrolling the streets. It framed the perpetually hard set of his jaw, washing out the shadows that settled on most people's faces.

It made him look two-dimensional as he dutifully pored over his work. A hero rendered in image, defying even the mundanity of weak overhead lighting. An object of heroism. Not a body of flesh and blood. This was Enji Todoroki at his best- a beacon and hero; the man invisible behind the flames and wobbling heat haze.

"Endeavor." Not knowing what to say was the norm for them. But Shoto wasn't in a mood to waste more time today.

Enji's blue eyes flicked to Shoto's carbon-copy eye as he paused his neat writing. "Shoto."

The silence yawned between them, except for the louder crackling of flame. Endeavor's shield of choice. The next line of the conversation died on Shoto's lips. He couldn't quite remember what he was going to say. The broken threads of another failed connection itched at his scar from cheek to scalp.

Shoto had spent years unraveling his feelings- and could probably waste a dozen more continuing to do so- about Enji, but they were the Flame Hero. The same dedication that had driven the man to trample on his childhood and family had pushed him to a looming mastery of his quirk and power that was unmatched by all save one.

He'd solved more cases personally than any Japanese hero in history, and his agency boasted the same achievement at scale. The only heroes that stayed ahead of him internationally had decades of work-hours on him, and the gap was closing every day. Shoto knew the stats. And not because Endeavor had made him memorize them. In his efforts to understand his father (he considered them his weaker moments) he had laid into mountains of research.

Endless snuck hours at a computer, an exhausted boy crawling through the internet as aches and chills plagued him. Hate accounts, fan accounts, police reports. It was like he was a detective, or a coroner. Testimonies and antipathy, worship and critique.

Amongst it all one reporter's op-ed on the man stuck with him. It was written back when Enji and All Might were early in their heroic careers, rising stars hurling themselves forward into a world far less safe then the one they'd built. All Might was stealing the heart of the public with every move while the younger Enji's cold attitude locked down arrest after arrest.

"Hero names aren't picked on accident," Makoto Takamine wrote in their essay. They'd gotten it published in a second-rate paper, the new-something tribune. "They can be chosen thoughtlessly or for poor reasons, but never randomly. Endeavor doesn't strike me as the kind of man who wastes such an important moment to define yourself. The word endeavor means to struggle to achieve a goal, especially a grand and heroic one.

"He's not popular, and I can see why. He is cold- startlingly and ironically so for a man whose quirk is Hellflame. I used to dislike him because of it. Heroes are supposed to be warm, inspire us and make us feel safe- we have men like All Might to look to as brilliant examples of what a hero should be and can be.

But Endeavor doesn't leave room for warmth. He can't, I think. There's a weight, an ambition there, the kind that can't be satisfied by anything less than total victory; a hunger that constantly reaches for more and will not be answered by anything less than the achievement of whatever grand goal drives him. And it is a grand one, make no mistake. Men like him don't settle.

I still don't think I like him, and doubt I ever will. But I do respect him. Endeavor will never warm you with a hug, but he'll light the world on fire to keep the storm off you. Because to Endeavor is to burn yourself away."

Shoto wished he was better at communicating very often. He wanted to be able to do that. Put together words in the right order and rhythm so that something made sense, sounded right. He indulged that imagination sometimes, in the dead of night. What it would mean to be a different kind of hero. One who won people over.

It took him years to accept that wasn't his gift. There was too much of Endeavor in him. His gift was violence. The thrumming of heat through your veins as every nerve ending in your skin screamed alive with flame. The rivers of adrenaline rushing through his body like a jet fighter over asphalt veins as he reached up for more than he had more to give.

When he couldn't escape Endeavor's vision for his life, he fought to claim it as his own in rebellion. Be the number one hero, demanded his spite and Rei's whispering voice in the back of his head. Without using his fire.

His last few days had been lost to a profound daze. An exhaustion that dislocated him from his body as it let go of a fury so familiar he had stopped being able to feel it. Like a sweater, it unraveled all at once from a tug on a single thread. One green haired boy willing to break himself to save him. It was so easy before, when he knew exactly what kind of hero he wanted to be. Now he wasn't so sure. He just knew what he'd wanted before wasn't right anymore.

Endeavor sighed. Pushed the stacks of crime reports and analyses to the side as he gave his full attention to Shoto. "You're here to learn to use your fire."

"I am."

He raised an eyebrow. "You've stood there for several minutes. Doing nothing. Asking for nothing. Wasting time. I was hopeful you'd finally moved past your acts of childishness. It appears you've disappointed me once again."

"Thank you for the lesson, Endeavor." Shoto kept his face carefully still. Endeavor did not tolerate weakness. Rage and focus Todoroki. Breathe.

Endeavor shook their head slowly as they rose to their feet. "You are exasperating." Fire reignited on Endeavor's costume as he brushed past Shoto heading out the door. "Follow."

The quirk gym he was brought to was not one he'd seen before in previous training sessions at Endeavor's agency. It was significantly smaller than the others, for one, and the metal walls had an odd oily sheen. "My personal training room," Endeavor explained preemptively. "The heat resistant material I need for developing my personal techniques is prohibitively expensive and doesn't hold up as well against kinetic impacts. It was more efficient to build a second, smaller facility than the one the rest of my agency uses."

"And that it ensures no one sees you fail is pure coincidence," Shoto observed with a deniably respectful tone.

Endeavor didn't respond to his jab. Shoto thought idly they were quite good at ignoring their offspring. "I need to see where you are first." They pointed at a target on the opposite side of the room. "Your target has augmented strength and durability and poses an actively lethal threat to surrounding civilians, represented by all other targets in the area."

Endeavor always instructed like this. Every training exercise was placed in the context of a real world scenario where Shoto was evaluated on everything from how he approached the problem to the skill with which he executed his plan. A focused strike with maximum power, then.

He moved with calm focus. Fast is smooth. Smooth is fast. Let the heat beneath his skin build to a boiling point. He rotated his hips, dragging his body forward like he was lifting a boulder and hurled a thick stream of blinding flame the width of his torso. His metal target ripped from it's mounts in the floor and slammed back into the reinforced wall. When Shoto relaxed his offensive the thick slab of metal slid down the wall trailing molten metal.

Shoto turned to look at Endeavor, waiting for judgement. His critical eye roamed over Shoto's stance- arm still extended, the sweat just starting to bead on his brow- and the target on the wall. Everywhere but Shoto's eyes. "Your output is acceptable thought not where it would have been if you hadn't engaged in your foolish rebellion. You can develop your output on your own if need be. What is lacking is your control. That will be our focus. Observe."

Endeavor breathed in strongly, his barrel-like chest expanding. Fire trailed from his fingers. Flickering and shifting, crackling in the air, a lightning bolt in amber. He rotated his arm above his head and his glowing hand fed into the growing streamer of white flame that sparked and twisted as it danced in an invisible windstorm.

With a final swing he snapped the whip of fire forward towards an intact target. Shoto had to blink the spots out of his vision. Their targets were weighty, several inches thick and definitely bulletproof. Endeavor's target was cut neatly in half, the edges of the cut sloughing off dewdrops of brilliant molten orange. The heat had barely had time to transfer beyond the point of contact.

"You use your fire like your ice. Why is that a mistake?"

"Intensity," Shoto answered with the obvious, then took his time to elaborate. "I can lower the temperature of my ice to make it harder yet more brittle, but I can't compress it much without having it melt or sublimate at atmospheric pressures. Fire can be concentrated much more usefully."

"Astute. Now sit." Shoto did, following Endeavor to the unpadded floor and mimicking his crossed legs and a straight back. "I modeled this training exercise off of a Tibetan meditation practice Ilearned early in my career when I was developing my ultimate moves. I believe it should help you as well. Place your hands on your stomach, and visualize a hollow space containing a fire there behind your navel. Breathe deep through your nose, expanding your torso and chest. Visualize each breath stoking that internal fire, driving it higher and hotter."

Shoto studied Endeavor's face as they sat with closed eyes and still features. He listened and followed along, but was most fascinated by what the exercise was doing to the man's face. It was relaxed in countless little ways. The jaw was less set, the muscles in his cheeks less tense. Meditating made the man look younger.

"Focus your mind as you exhale forcefully through your lips, curling your spine inwards as you do. Feel the way the heat builds and rises along your spine. Repeat this cycle until you can feel the heat build in your diaphragm, tense the muscles in your pelvic floor and hold your breath. You should feel your body temperature rise as your fire grows more intense. And once it does-" Endeavor demonstrated his own instructions, every inhale and exhale bolder and stronger. Then he breathed.

A column of blue-tinged white fire erupted from his mouth, crashing against the far wall and splashing like water. Shoto's quirk ensured he could handle extreme temperatures but the heat was uncomfortable to bear even from several feet away.

When Enji canceled his quirk, the advanced metamaterials in the wall were glowing brightly. Shoto's best effort hadn't even given it the sheen hot metal got.

"The ability to up the intensity of your flames is the basis of most of my ultimate moves-" he paused, regulating his breathing back to normal. Endeavor's cheeks were lightly flushed. "And the ultimate expression of self-control. Our quirks are part of us. Fire is a part of us. It will respond to your will. Mechanically, all we are doing is increasing the intensity of our utilization and emission of plus-alpha energy in fueling a denser fire. Practically, we are contesting our will against the natural tendency of our power to spread and burn wildly.

"You will eventually build up enough mastery to wield your quirk factor this way without needing these mental techniques as an aid. The road to that level of skill will be long, and complicated by the fact you will need to master your contradictory ice powers, but I will pass on what I can. I will not fail you further."

The fire building in Shoto's stomach under his careful ministrations stalled, almost going out as the cold winds of shock blew through his body. Further? That implied Endeavor accepted he'd failed Shoto in the first place. Endeavor could reflect on mistakes made in the field, and work to correct them. He never extended that same consideration to his family. He wasn't supposed to be capable of that.

Endeavor continued on, unaware of the confusion he'd just wrought in Shoto. "You lost focus. That'll get you killed in the field. We'll continue these exercises until you can maintain this while walking, then we'll begin to work on your other control skills. Understood?"

Shoto nodded dumbly.

"Good. Again, imagine the fire in your stomach building..."

Endeavor jogged faster than Shoto could easily follow, his long strides and measured pace eating up the pavement effortlessly, leaving Shoto's to teeter awkwardly between jogging and running flat out. Sidekicks in the agency had termed the phenomenon 'The Escort Quest.'

Every time a newbie tried to keep pace with Endeavor's patrols they stumbled back into the building and collapsed in a puddle of sweat. Endeavor jogged too fast for you to do anything less than flat out run and his patrols went on for hours.

Unlike them, Shoto had been prepared by his father for years and was in better shape than many licensed heroes. So he was, hypothetically, prepared for the punishing pace his father ran at even without using his fire. It barely mattered. Endeavor was relentless on patrol, never slowing, never stopping, sometimes for hours at a time. One six minute mile after another. After three days of shadowing his patrols he could only say he'd learned to survive the ordeal.

"Another block straight then turn right, we're swinging wide around Main Street." Endeavor directed, "We're routing around the protests."

"Why?" asked Shoto between carefully controlled breaths. Every word was valuable right now. He could only get so many out at a time before starting to feel lightheaded. He was pretty sure this was mile eight, but he had no way to count.

"It's bad practice to get involved in anything involving politics. The police are already there to handle things. Successful heroes concern themselves with unambiguous, criminal threats."

"I heard things are tense. Some heroes are there. We should be too."

Endeavor slowed to a walk with only the tiniest disappointed frown. Shoto took the break gratefully, forcing himself to keep moving. His calves and shins attempted to stage a rebellion, but if he stopped moving they would get infinitely worse.

"And do what?" Ah. So it was another learning opportunity. Shoto was missing UA more than ever. Their lectures were held with him in a seat. "My quirk is worthless for handling civilians. No matter how careful I am, I would only be suited to intimidate. You could do more by constructing barricades with your ice, but you aren't trained to handle these kind of situations and there is equipment for that. There's a significant probability our interference make things worse."

"But we can do something," Shoto entreated. "Maybe by being there we can keep things from escalating."

Endeavor shook his head firmly. "It won't work." Endeavor halted at the end of the street. "Crossing here, wait for the light. How familiar are you with the MLF?"

"Passingly," Shoto shrugged, fighting the urge to put his hands on his knees. Keep your head and chest up Shoto. Allow yourself to show weakness and you will become weak. That was Enji's voice. "I know they want less restriction on quirk usage and more accountability from the HPSC. I haven't studied any of their specifics, but both seem like good ideas." And maybe more accountability will mean people won't be able to cover up quirk marriages.

"That's their public platform," Endeavor confirmed. "You should also be aware that there is also a strong anti-hero and populist sentiment woven into their movement." He lowered his voice, and the heat radiating from him kept other pedestrians far enough for their conversation to be private. "They see the HPSC, and its heroes by extension, as one of the primary institutions perpetuating quirkism. Having heroes there will only make things more tense," He side-eyed Shoto. "And for the future, keep your opinion on politics to yourself. A hero's job is to keep people safe, end of story. Being political will make you unpopular."

More bits of advice to ignore, those were his favorite. "But if they think that about heroes, couldn't you use your platform to prove them wrong? Try and change things? Being the Number 2 Hero carries a lot of weight."

"Not enough," Endeavor said quietly, looking forward.

"Really?" Shoto finally gathered enough breath to fix his posture. Endeavor's conditioning routines were serving him well. "You're a household name in Japan and can be recognized globally. You've participated in several international missions for the WHA and have received commendations from the UN. Your voice matters. Why won't you try?"

"The HPSC is run by traditionalists and conservatives. They won't change for anything. The MLF won't listen to someone who by nature of my position represents everything they hate. What would you have me do? Stand by the protests in case they get violent? Flashfire Fist the first civilian to throw a brick at a cop? Break up the riot by scaring them into submission? No. Getting involved will only hurt my image. Inaction is the only choice."

Seriously? "Being a hero isn't just about rankings."

"You are here, learning from me despite your distaste for it, because I'm the Number 2 Hero."

"I'm here because you can teach me how to use my fire."

"Then you have every reason to ignore the protests. They hold no knowledge that will help you."

"Maybe this is the reason you're stuck at number 2."

"I don't see any other top hero jumping out at the chance."

"All Might used to."

That earned him a warning look. "There's a counter protest planned for tonight. Something's almost certainly going to happen, and when it does it will be left to the professionals to handle. There is nothing for you there."

"I don't believe that."

"When you mature, you'll discover that professional heroism does not care for what you believe, and that I was right all along."

Shoto scoffed in annoyance. Endeavor sped back up to pace as the digital sign flipped to walk, which ensured Shoto couldn't gather the breath to continue the argument. He probably did that on purpose.

They returned to their shared silence, broken only by the striking of feet against concrete and occasional directions. "I... understand that is uncomfortable for you to hear," said Endeavor haltingly, several blocks and minutes later and once the protest was already behind them. "I understand how you feel."

"You don't-" Shoto sucked in air, How am I ever going to maintain those breathing exercises on patrol? "know shit."

"I also used to think you could change the world if you tried hard enough."

"All Might did it."

Endeavor grimaced. Opened his mouth, winced, closed it again. He looked defeated, mumbling something in quiet frustration inaudible beneath the wind of their run and crackle of his costume's flames.

"Say. That. Again?" Each word was a fight to manage.

Endeavor grunted, kicking up a gear in speed and forcing Shoto to shut up to conserve oxygen.

Midoriya had never felt as self conscious as he did boarding the train to Naruhata. Walking through the compartments behind Gran Torino in full costume meant that every last person they passed stole looks- or worse, openly stared. And for some reason, most of those were at him.

Gran clearly found the way he shrank hilarious, an eviler-than-normal schadenfreude-filled grin spreading across his face each time he saw Izuku inwardly cringe. Izuku did his best to respond to the attention with a bright smile and a wave to everyone who looked his way like All Might would, but he just knew he looked painfully awkward.

My next costume should have camouflage, or at least help me appear more incognito. Would that even work? It's not like normal people wear anything like a hero outfit especially one like All Might's which is super recognizable which helps him reassure people and make them feel safe and he doesn't cover his mouth for the same reason which means I shouldn't cover my face because I should do the same thing but this is really awkward and I feel like everyone is watching me which might be because of the sports festival something like thirty million people watched it live and the clip of my fight with Shoto was already over seventy million views this morning-

Gran yanked Midoriya back and into his seat by his respirator. "What did I say about woolgathering?" He grumbled. "Get lost on your own time when I'm not responsible for your safety. The commission and your principal will drown me in paperwork if I lose track of you."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"Sorry- I mean, sorry. Wait-" Midoriya dropped his face into hands, muffling his voice before he could apologize again.

Gran Torino sighed. "It's fine. Just relax and get some rest. You'll need all the energy you can muster. Oh, and before I forget. Once we're there you have permission to use you quirk."

Midoriya shivered as Gran Torino closed his eyes and leaned back his seat. He'd grown familiar with the man during the past week, and the man was not prone to giving meaningless warnings. Popping in his earbuds, he tried to lay back and shut off in the way Gran Torino had. The crazy old man was already snoring somehow. Midoriya envied him.

His mind never shut off. If he felt sleepy during the day the fastest way to fix it was to try and sleep. Sitting there eyes closed alone with his thoughts as they cavorted around and banged into each other he would send him spiraling him back into muttering wakefulness.

Inevitably his idle hands found something to occupy themselves with. He flipped his phone in his hands over and over. He knew what he'd find if he started scrolling. Clips of the sports festival, quirk analysis and pixel-by-pixel number crunching filled his feed every year because of how much hero analysis content he consumed.

He was so close to uninstalling all of it. If someone tracked down one of his accounts he'd probably have to.

His favorite hero analysis accounts were swamped with moments from the sports festival. It happened every year, but Izuku had never considered what it would be like to be in the spot light. Dreams were more comfortable at a distance.

The world smeared by the train car windows like dye drops spilling into water. Distant mountains and monuments were the only things that moved slowly enough to make out. He watched the nearby buildings, then trees flit by at hundreds of miles an hour, following them with his gaze for moments that made the whole tableau leap into relief before vanishing out the back of his window.

Ten minutes of staring turned to ten more trying to sleep before he gave in and started scrolling. The first thing on his feed was from one of his favorite number-crunching hero and quirk analysts. Everyone who made it into the festival's quarterfinals was on there. He quickly scrolled down to his name.

Midoriya Izuku's explosive power in that bout can be inferred to have a significantly higher ceiling than expressed. Appearing to be an energy-based physical enhancement quirk, the power from a single strike with his arm tied Todoroki Shoto's strongest attack. With practice and growth those punches could exceed many top tier power feats. A hero-potential to watch.

Pocketing his phone viciously, he resolved himself to impatient waiting. Trapped with his thoughts was the worst way for him to be.

He had a tendency to lose himself in questions meant to punish himself. Why do you let this bother you so much? It's just people on the internet. All Might wouldn't be so weak. He clenched his fist, imagined coating it in lightning brimming with enough strength to lift the whole train into the sky. Power given to him he didn't deserve.

You were supposed to be quirkless. Why should he be the one who got lucky? Why did he deserve a shot at his dreams when there were thousands of kids his age who never got that chance? One of them had to deserve it more.

What if All Might made a mistake? He scrunched his eyes shut. Tried to release all the self doubt in a single chest-stretching breath.

"I can hear you thinking," muttered Gran Torino with eyes closed. "Stop."

"S-Alright."

Gran Torino cracked an eye and a smirk. Izuku wasn't quite sure when he fell asleep, but he must've at some point because soon Gran Torino was calling for him to wake up and pounding on his headrest. Izuku's mouth was gummy and his tongue felt inflated. The dry air had scraped away the feeling in his cheeks and nose.

"Uhrmggh," Izuku mumbled intelligently as he rubbed at the kinked side of his neck. His green curls were mussed on one side, less a rat's nest and more a rat's natural disaster insurance claim. He futilely tried to wrestle it back into its normal unruly shape.

Gran Torino continued to refuse to tell Izuku who they were going to meet with as they walked Naruhata's streets. They slipped farther and farther away from the busier parts of the district, traffic like the lifeblood of the city growing sparser. Izuku watched Gran skeptically as they double checked directions on their phone for the umpteenth time.

"Do we know where we're going?" asked Izuku. Naruhata was a sketchy place. It had already been an underpopulated, unpopular area before a string of trigger junkie attacks, bombings and a dramatic showdown between a vigilante and villain. Most of it was still dead empty almost six years later. Construction chipped at the edges of the broken city ward, as the land near Tokyo too valuable to ignore, but erasing what happened would be the work of years.

Gran Torino jumped up to smack Izuku lightly on the back of the head. "Kids these days," he grumbled in that sort-of-joking, worldly and put upon way every senior citizen could throw on. "I go through all this effort and all I get is disrespect."

Their surroundings were get steadily shadier as they went. Empty streets turned to dilapidated that fell to outright disrepair as the only signs of inhabitation became tents. If blue tarpaulin held down by bricks could even by called that.

And that was when Gran Torino disppeared.

Izuku was proud to say he didn't panic. Aizawa's approach to teaching had inured him against strangeness and the sudden. Gran Torino was a powerful and successful hero, skilled enough that the only way he could have disappeared silently was on purpose.

...unless someone used a mind control quirk. Most of them were like Shinso's and required some level of back and forth to establish a connection but that wasn't a hard and fast rule and getting someone to walk in a direction was definitely possible.

No. No. The simplest explanation was that this was a training exercise. That's why he'd been allowed to use his quirk ahead of time. Izuku began to look around, searching for the point of it. There were a few people around and all of them looked like they belonged. Is that wrong to think? That feels classist.

Footsteps beat the pavement rapidly behind him. A subdued staccato coupled with the faint sound of flapping cloth that had him whirling. A huge man with muscles big enough to compact Izuku inside sprinted towards him. A mask covered the top half of his head. His hunter green trench coat fell to the back of his knees and he wore dull steel knuckles thick enough to be used as training weights.

Izuku had already prepared to ready One for All, and took several quick steps backwards to buy himself the time he needed. But he wasn't quite fast enough. Throwing himself back into a limbo his head narrowly avoided being pulped by a punch he stared up at the bulk of the man above him who was already changing their punch to a downwards elbow.

One for All finally came online. He pushed off the ground from his limbo into a backflipping kick that forced his assailant to lean away.

Now brimming with power, Izuku managed to catch the second punch midair and shoved off it hard, launching himself back and putting space between them.

He landed a dozen feet away in a crouch. "Who are you?"

"Knuckleduster," replied the man as he rushed Izuku. He noticed the masked man's uneven gait. Knuckleduster had a weak right leg, probably from an injury. I don't recognize that hero name. Izuku ran to meet him anyway, using his speed to put Knuckleduster on the back foot.

But that was all he could do. The man was quick- Izuku wasn't that much faster with the few percent of One for All he could manage- and were clearly the better fighter. He wasted fewer movements, turned away most hits and ate the ones Izuku slipped past with nary a grunt.

Izuku had him giving ground, albeit slowly, with an onslaught of kicks and punches. He pushed them back him all the way to the edges of the street where the mostly clear concrete gave way to a labyrinth of debris and the occasional tent. Knuckleduster turned and began to vault and leap amongst the debris with a nimbleness couldn't match. Izuku couldn't close quickly without crashing into someone and potentially hurting someone.

Still, he was closing in. Knuckleduster pushed himself to keep ahead, but in doing so made a mistake. His bad leg couldn't quite push hard enough- his toe caught on an obstacle, sending him sprawling directly towards a sleeping figure dead to the world beneath a ratty blanket.

Midoriya didn't think, he dived; trying to save the person from being crushed beneath Knuckleduster's bulk. He was midair when Knuckleduster caught himself and spun, and he realized it was a trap. Oh crap.

Izuku's world was rocked as those steel knuckles beat One for All right out of him. The durability All Might's quirk afforded him kept him relatively intact, though he could feel his blood dripping from his nose. He was dazed, scraped up on the pavement and the man who'd kicked his ass was bearing down with a second punch that stopped inches from his face.

So it was a training exercise.

The fist turned to an open hand offered and the figure under the blanket revealed itself to be the missing Gran Torino.

Midoriya took the offered hand, getting to his feet and feeling at his nose. It wasn't broken, but his finger tips came away red from beneath it. "You lost track of Gran Torino," begins Knuckleduster without so much as an acknowledgement. "You reacted late to someone rushing you, but had an acceptable recovery, though your technique is terrible enough you lost to a quirkless 50 year old man. Worst of all, you got baited by an obvious trap. And even if you had gotten between us and 'saved' him, Gran Torino was working with me and would have knifed you the moment your back was turned."

Gran Torino waved a prop knife around, demonstrating it by 'stabbing' his hand several times.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"..quirkless?" What? How? Knuckleduster was stronger and faster than most quirked heroes. That wasn't possible, that didn't make any sense.

"Quirkless. So?"

Izuku hung his head. He had nothing to say in his defense. He'd been outplayed and outperformed at every step.

"Seriously? Not even going to argue?"

Izuku scuffed at the pavement, trying to and actually managing to avoid crying. For once. His head was too busy turning over Knuckleduster's quirklessness to spare the energy. "That was stupid of me. You're right."

"Lets get more specific then," Knuckleduster continued. "It took you almost fifteen seconds to realize Gran Torino had left. Anything could have happened in that amount of time. And you didn't immediately start using your enhancement quirk when you realized that, and you only noticed me when I was basically on top of you. Your recovery was good enough, but you could have gone for a safer leg sweep that wouldn't have left you hanging in the air.

"It's obvious you don't know how to win a fight either. You flail in an approximation of decent technique, but it's clear you learned that from a book. I let you push me back- which I don't think you noticed- so I could move the fight closer to a trap. You didn't pick up on the obvious fake fall, and immediately endangered yourself to protect someone who you didn't realize you didn't need to protect, since you didn't bother to evaluate the person you were defending on even the most basic level. If this was real you would have died for that last mistake. Did I miss anything?"

Gran Torino spoke up. "That's not-"

Knuckleduster cut him off. "Don't defend him, that's his job. You wanted my help, you've got it. Did I miss anything?"

"No," Izuku bit out. If Knuckleduster was that good quirkless, could Izuku have gotten that good? His dad had always told him that he could make it as a quirkless hero if he really wanted to, but Izuku had never really believed it. He'd never really put in the work to realize his dream because of it.

And when his dad had turned out to be able to give people quirks, Izuku had figured that that just proved his point. Obviously his dad had believed he could be a hero because he could give Izuku a quirk.

What did that say about him?

"Nothing? Here I thought you wanted to be the 'can-do hero.'"

"What do you want me to say?" Izuku asked, furious. At himself and at Knuckleduster. "Sorry?"

"I want you to stand up for yourself."

"How? You're right! About all of it!" If anything he wasn't harsh enough.

Knuckleduster inspected him. Picking him apart from behind that ugly wrap-around mask. "When Gran Torino disappeared, you didn't panic. Why?"

"I figured it was a test of some kind. Gran Torino couldn't be taken out quietly enough for me not to notice."

"Good. Why didn't you bring that up when I was going after you a moment ago?"

Izuku shrugged. "Because it doesn't matter?"

"So it's only your mistakes that are worth mentioning?"

"Wh- Y- Maybe? I don't know."

"I do. But if all you're interested in doing is flagellating yourself over not being good enough than we're done here." Knuckleduster adjusted his eponymous gear and turned to leave.

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Than what are you doing?"

"Accepting criticism from a senior hero."

Knuckleduster scoffed. "Vigilante. I haven't been a hero for years."

Izuku recoiled. "But- that's illegal!" That came out particularly stupid, he realized as soon as he said it. Gran Torino had brought him to meet the man. Clearly it can't be that illegal. And besides, he was a former hero. That counted for something. Stupid, stupid Izuku.

Gran Torino gave Knuckleduster an apologetic shrug. The bigger man planted his head in his palm. "Yeah. And?"

Izuku's eyes darted over to Gran Torino, who was shockingly silent. Several things came together very quickly. "Heroes work with vigilantes more than the public knows," he spoke haltingly, working out his theory as he spoke. "Underground Heroes probably do it more often, because spotlight heroes are too visible to get away with it. And nobody talks about it."

Knuckleduster snorted. "Of course they do. It's a very open secret."

"That's why vigilantes so rarely get brought in!" How didn't he notice this before? "The data for active vigilantes makes no sense without accounting for this!" Less than one in fifteen vigilantes (based on a history of at least 2 distinct instances of vigilantism) got brought in. He'd never even given it a second thought.

"Not bad," Knuckleduster gruffed, sinking onto a cinderblock with a load groan. "Damn legs. I don't know how you do it Sorahiko."

Gran Torino laughed. "Secondary mutations and grit bucko. You'll get there. What happened to your lesson plan?"

"Twisted my ankle on that fake fall," Knuckleduster admitted. "And after meeting the kid, I don't think it's the best way to go about this. So. Dekiru. Why?"

"Why did I choose that as my name?"

"Sure." Knuckleduster beckoned in a clear gesture to get on with it.

"It's aspirational, I guess. I want to be the kind of hero everyone can rely on. I want to show up and have people feel safe, knowing I can save them from anything."

"You didn't stop to think when you jumped to stop me from landing on Sorahiko."

It took a moment for Izuku to realize that Knuckleduster wasn't continuing, and he was supposed to be talking. "Oh, yes. Sorry. I mean- that wasn't a question. I'm assuming you're probably asking why again? Why I didn't think?" Knuckleduster nodded. "To be honest, I don't know."

"Your moved before you had a chance to think." Knuckleduster sounded complicated. Sorrowed, admiring and resigned. Melancholic. Familiar.

"Yeah." He'd said as much to All Might before. It just sounded too self-aggrandizing to say aloud again.

"I admire that. All the greatest heroes are that way. Regardless of whether they have a license." He looked up and around at the city around him, seeing things deeper than the material wreckage. "This place was always a mess. Then one of the noblest people I've ever known fought here. Now it's a wrecked shithole. It's so fucked most villains don't bother coming here."

"Koichi Haimawari," said Izuku. That name was plastered all over the news a few years ago while everything was going down.

"Yeah. He's everything I should have been when I was a hero." Knuckleduster laughed. "The world would be a much better place if more people were like him. He put his life on the line against some nasty characters and saved thousands- at the minimum- that would have been lost before they could be stopped without him. His work led to an operation that dismantled a trigger ring that spanned half the country. His heroism has changed hundreds of thousands of lives for the better. You want to know how he's doing?"

He laughed again, knuckles clenching like he wanted to wrap them around someone and squeeze. "He fled Japan. Nowadays he's struggling to make a living in America, and deals with chronic pain because he was covered in second and third degree burns from his fight with the ringleader. One of the greatest heroic victories of the decade and his reward was exile from his home country and a life of pain and mild disfigurement."

Knuckleduster glared into the space between his knees. "That's where your path ends. You have the spark of greatness. But sparks don't last very long."

"I don't believe that," said Izuku. His voice was small but certain. "I can do it." He wasn't sure what it was, but it felt like the right thing to say.

So maybe Izuku was a bit of an idiot, who hadn't believed he was capable of more when he was quirkless and never really gave his best efforts to make it work and only started to actually work towards his goals when his idol offered him a quirk. It wouldn't matter to anyone he saved.

"You want advice from a senior hero? You'll save more if you're picky. You would have died tonight if our little exercise was real even if you were good enough to subdue me, which you aren't. There's always tomorrow. Make the choices you can live with, avoid the ones that will kill you. Stay alive. Stay safe. Let go of the ones you can't save."

"I don't think I could live with myself if listened to that advice." Izuku smiled ruefully.

Knuckleduster closed his eyes and hung his head in the silence of a lost city district. Then with a deep breath he squared his shoulders. "Then I hope you can grow strong enough survive being so undiscerning. You have my help until tomorrow night."

Bakugo clenched his fists tightly enough to creak in a bid to drive off the discomforting throb and stiffness caused by heavy quirk use. The thick sweat-wicking fibers of his costume's gloves squeezed against fossilized flesh. The Kevlar-like fiber strangled the ache out of his joints.

Sundown was an hour or two away yet this time of spring, but the high skyline cast the streets in shadows that made it seem more like eight then six. Ponytail fidgeted, glancing between Bakugo and their surroundings as they both trailed a step behind Hisashi.

Hisashi dressed like every other business person on Musutafu's downtown streets. Returning home in those ubiquitous dark suits from a long day in the office. He stood out like a peacock anyways. He was head and shoulders taller than everyone else on the street and was followed by two kids in hero costumes coming off their recent television debuts.

Those things sat in the back of Bakugo's mind. His attention was carried by other things.

An electric nervousness filled the air around him with static, prickling against his skin. Bakugo could taste the pervading anxiety. Overly sweet and shiver-inducing, it leapt between hosts like a virus and sped the steps of those on their way home from work.

This unconscious anticipation hung over everyone's head, even if they weren't sensitive enough to be conscious of it. Bakugo was able to grasp that uncertainty far better than he would've before his week of training. Hisashi's help had gone far in honing his mind and instincts to a gleaming edge.

Hisashi beside them was utterly calm. Unflappable in the way Bakugo only saw on the egomaniacally overconfident, and people for whom a similarly high opinion of themselves was justified. Bakugo took a single breath to firm himself, mimicking the little behaviors that projected Hisashi's confidence so clearly. Longer strides, settled back shoulders, and a lengthened spine. It made him feel a little more dangerous too.

Bakugo'd had no idea what his internship with Uncle Hisashi would look like heading in. Hyperconscious of the possibility that the whole thing was a colossal mistake, and that he would lose ground to his peers as they trained with proven heroes.

He was shocked and relieved when the training got difficult. For frankly the first time in his life, he'd been challenged by goals and expectations placed on him by someone other than himself.

Cocky, sure, but not conceited. He wasn't arrogant, he was accurate. He knew he was better than everyone around before anyone told him so. Almost since he could string together a sentence.

The revelation of just how different he was had come in the form of a snot-nosed brat a teacher partnered him with in primary school. An extra with a color changing skin quirk who couldn't handle basic addition. They were six at the time.

The hag was pissed about having to pick him up early, but the kid had it coming. Bakugo hadn't even gotten physical. He'd just told the kid- accurately- that he was a lazy fucking idiot slowing them both down, and added pathetic to their list of adjectives when they started tearing up over that.

It was people like that who school was made for. The soft and weak everyman.

What made him realize he was built better was their rife incompetence. He could've coasted on by and settled in for a nice and comfortable life with minimal real effort. Took over his parent's fashion business, followed his mother's modelling career, or headed an engineering division somewhere. He was the only kid that wasn't being lied to when adults told them they could be anything when they grew up.

He could have taken the easy route, chosen a path that wouldn't demand he work until his hands resembled desert mesas and only thing holding his body together was his secondary mutations.

It was surrounded by mediocrity, gold stars and participation trophies that he'd learned the truth. Contentment was the sweet, seductive promise of those who needed to believe that they were already good enough, who could settle for less than the top. Satisfaction was the mind killer, analgesic; more potent than any cocktail of ketamine. Sedated and docile, the contented man's chance at escaping their fate as a side-character died with their ambitions.

Deku had drank that kool-aid when they were kids. Not Bakugo motherfucking Katsuki. From the moment he'd seen All Might on tv he knew what he had to beat. Deku had rediscovered his ambition more recently, but he had years of work to catch up on. If not for his incredible luck Bakugo's hard work would have killed any chance of catching up.

Deku had finally learned hunger. But he couldn't relate yet. Deku couldn't tell you what it was like for your ambition to turn autophagic.

There could only be one best. If that meant Bakugo had to be so perfect that every being in the universe would use him as their measure of success until the the unending march of time stole the last breath of life from existence itself, than he would do whatever it took to get there.

He'd love to see what people would say about him then. Their words hurt, back when he was a weak fucking kid that gave a shit what others thought of him. He was too loud, too angry, too honest, too blunt. He was stronger now though. Better. Sticks and motherfucking stones turned to leaves and dust.

But damn did they had a lot to say. The worst of it wasn't the quiet insults, distrust or endless rotation of infantilizing comments. It was the parables. The empty bits of wisdom they quoted at him. Dumbfucks parroting other morons so they could pretend they were wise. Shit like, "Hard work beats talent when talent doesn't work hard!"

No fucking duh. If the advice came in a fortune cookie, it wasn't worth the breath needed to speak it aloud. In all likelihood the person wasn't much better. He'd heard it all already, and the trophies on his shelf proved how much more the talent was willing to sweat than anyone else.

It was literally his damn quirk. He was as worthless as everyone else was if he wasn't working hard.

People would swear up and down they understood him though. Therapists and fake friends had come in one by one ready to pick him apart. They always failed 'cause didn't want to empathize. They didn't know what it was like to grow up with perpetually stinging palms, the soaked collar of an athletic shirt rubbing your neck raw and the agony of pushing yourself right up to the limit of what you were. While others struggled to get good enough grades, he was clawing to be perfect. He was an example of the sacrifices they would have to make to matter, and that terrified them.

Monday's internship begun bright and early in one of UA's many quirk gyms. The black, green and orange of Bakugo's costume stood out against the dull concrete. Military and explosive. It was washed out by the massive overhead lights. Intelligence quirks must not come with aesthetic taste.

Hisashi had been ready and waiting with a printed copy of a workout that he completed while Sensei went to work with Ponytail on an exaggerated quirk exercise that had her making parts by the dozen while scarfing down high-calorie nutrient bars.

The beginning of the day had him uncertain, he couldn't lie. Half an hour of mild cardio amounting to a warmup wasn't an unforgivable start, but the casualness of it wasn't a good sign. The only thing the exercise had accomplished was getting him dangerously sweaty.

"Hey Uncle 'Sashi!" Katsuki shouted over to where they were guiding Ponytail in creating a huge crystal frame. She had some colored paste in one hand and a pen in her other. The glittering mound refracted light turning their corner of their room into one fucked up disco stage. Dozens of blueprints printed out and scribbled over with stacking layers of colored ink were spread out under and around the frame as they worked. It looked like a crack engineer's psychedelic trip. "I gotta burn off my quirk, my stores are getting close to full, am I clear to do that in here?"

"Hold on for a minute. Head over there and wait for me," he gestured towards a large square of concrete empty of equipment without looking up from what he was writing. "We're going to be sparring."

Katsuki nodded without thinking as he stretched his upper body to keep himself limber and keep the blood flowing. Cold muscles were killer. He narrowed his eyes over his twisted shoulder as he looked Hisashi up and down. "In that outfit?"

Hisashi merely smirked, unbuttoning the front his black suit jacket and fixing the uneven set of his dark green tie. Not a single strand of 'windswept' white hair was out of its artfully messy place. "We'll use sports festival rules. The boundary is the marked line. As an additional handicap, however, I will be fighting quirkless."

Katsuki's growing excitement vanished beneath a wash of annoyance. "Then I'll fight you quirkless too. It'll be good practice."

Hisashi shook his head once. The fucker had the audacity to smile, shaking his head confidently. "Katsuki. Take the handicap."

"Hah? Fuck no. I don't need your pity."

Hisashi adjusted his cuffs with sharp tugs so his white undershirt poked out just the right amount from his sleeves. Drama queen. "Do you think you're invincible?"

"Yeah, obviously," Bakugo dragged that word out to obnoxious length, rolling across his tongue it as dramatically as he rolled his eyes. "Fuck, I wish everyone had your incalculable genius. Why don't you bash your head into a wall and test if you're invincible too?"

Hisashi failed to rise to the bait. He was clearly working towards something with this, and wouldn't be distracted so easily. "You're extremely talented and capable for your age, we both know that," said Hisashi. He let the statement sit between them. Just long enough for Katsuki to have time to dread the inevitable 'but' that always followed compliments.

Hisashi's voice sharpened. "But it has made you arrogant, when that is all you are- exceptional for your age. You're not even the most talented student in your class." Oh this motherfucker was dead." If you seriously believe you are anywhere close to my equal then we are off to a disappointing start and an impending reality check. Use your quirk. It won't be enough."

Katsuki's snarled, shifted and raised his guard.

In retrospect, the first sign that this was going to end with him on his ass was Hisashi's eyes. They held a concentrated disinterest. Like this was all beneath him. They met his own over arms raised in a nonchalant guard.

When people who knew what they were doing prepared to fight they changed up. They shifted their weight onto the balls of their feet, did everything they needed to, positioning themselves to win. When Hisashi readied it he changed nothing about himself. Bakugo wasn't stupid enough to believe Hisasshi was a clueless amateur. So if that wasn't the case, it had to be the something else. Hisashi was always ready to fight.

Hisashi's front hand twisted slightly, beckoning Bakugo forward in challenge. Obliging, he dashed in with his own arms up and in position to strike. Bakugo wasn't stupid, he expected Hisashi to be better than him. But fighting with a handicap like being quirkless was insulting. Bakugo would show them.

Bakugo feinted a right palm strike that Hisashi blocked on his arm, blasted a cloud of smoke and concussive force right into their face, went low for a body blow with his palm open to deliver an explosion to his side-

Hisashi moved- not exactly in a blur, but like he'd foressen the perfect counter to Bakugo's attack before Bakugo even knew what he was going to try- stepped into Bakugo's personal space, caught Bakugo's wrist and wrenched him forward over his extended leg.

Bakugo went horizontal, Hisashi struck his back to get him down faster and threw his full weight on top of him. Bakugo struggled to get his hands into position to act, but Hisashi had trapped one palm against Bakugo's spine and pinned the other against the floor, palm up. He bucked futilely, letting off an explosion or three with his free hand to try and dislodge Hisashi before growling and slapping the ground with the back of his hand.

He leapt to his feet the second he was free. "Again."

Hisashi smiled, a teeth-baring mirror of the one Bakugo made when he was looking forward to kicking someone's teeth in during a spar. It was probably where Bakugo had learned it from. Ass. "Whatever you need."

He gave him the finger. "Ass."

Hisashi chuckled, straightening out his wrinkling suit clothes. "To your credit, there's probably only a few dozen people in the world capable of beating you unarmed and quirkless, let alone that fast or on an open field. Unfortunately for you, I happen to be one of them."

Bakugo scoffed but lowered his voice for his next words enough that Ponytail wouldn't be able to hear. "And you know that because there's what, a network of underground martial arts tournaments?"

"For someone who wants to be a hero, your view of villainy is disappointingly informed by popular media."

Bakugo's eyes narrowed to slits as he tried to read his uncle's infuriatingly good pokerface. "That so?" He was pretty sure Hisashi was riling him up. Scratch that. That was precisely what was going on.

"Though there were more than a few skilled teachers you could find if you knew the right people."

That leaves me with more questions. Hisashi didn't let them get sidetracked. "We'll spar until you figure out what I'm trying to teach you with this, or I need to stop and help Creati."

Bakugo crossed his arms. "We'll keep doing this until you use your fucking quirks."

Hisashi laughed. "Try and make me."

Challenge accepted. "Next round, go." Bakugo spat, exploding forward as the 'go' left his lips. They'll beat me in hand to hand, but that just means I can't let them get a grip on me.

He'd just realized the most infuriating part of this whole thing. The reason why he was handed that exercise regiment. It was to make him sweaty without tiring him out. Well if Hisashi wanted to beat Bakugo at his best to prove a point, then he was in for a surprise. Letting off two huge explosions half a meter outside of Hisashi's reach to stagger him he rolled with the momentum flipping high into the air ready to-

A hand caught his wrist midair again, and slammed him down onto the floor hard enough that he blacked out for an instant. The world spun behind his closed eyes and his awareness of anything beyond himself turned polka-dot. Things snapped into focus an instant later when Hisashi's fingers prodded his head.

"Better." Bakugo glared at undamaged trousers inches from his face. "You telegraphed the attack early by bracing your shoulders. Sloppy. We'll work on that. Eventually."

"You healed me."

"That I did."

"And your suit isn't a normal suit."

"Of course not. I get these custom made. It's better than the body armor the military gets."

"You're going to keep kicking my ass like this until I learn the lesson you're wanting me to," Bakugo accused.

Hisashi shrugged. "I find hard-won lessons are more valuable to the stubborn. I wouldn't have to do this with Miss Yaoyorozu, for example."

Growling, Bakugo launched himself at the man once again.

Bakugo got his ass handed to him thirty-two more times before they stopped. Not because Bakugo understood the 'lesson,' but because Hisashi had to leave and go help Ponytail with her quirk training. They only got that many in because he lost each fight quickly.

It didn't matter that he got better every single spar with each mistake Hisashi pointed out, because Bakugo got better by inches and stayed miles from where he needed to be. Covering tells, stretching farther and improving faster than he ever had in his life meant absolutely fucking nothing. The bastard took him apart over and over again like a sadistic kid with a trapped insect.

Bakugo suspected Hisashi was cheating with quirks, though that didn't make shit better, just a bit less embarrassing. Losing was losing, and excuses were for the content.

The pleasant sweat he'd worked up during his light exercise was gone. Tortured breaths pulled themselves raggedly from between angry snarls, tongue stained with salt and the faint taste of copper from a split lip he'd refused to let Hisashi heal.

Too weak to make a difference. Too weak to matter. Too weak win the sports festival without my opponent throwing the fucking match.

"You need to focus. You're never going to be number one with a mediocre quirk like that if you don't."

Bakugo answered him by flinging both palms forward, scattering sweat into the air between them that he ignited. His bones shook as he skidded backwards from the wash of force in their fourty-fourth fight of the day.

Hisashi jumped with the explosion, allowing himself to be carried by the shockwave back and up. Bakugo brought his hands together before hesitating. His AP Shots had punched through concrete at greater distances than this. Then again, Hisashi had been handing his ass to him the entire time. So what the hell. He won't die if he dodges.

Bolts of orange light lanced out from his hands by in a salvo of flame. Hisashi twisted in the air between the dozens of streaks, jerking his body around in a feat of inhuman acrobatics.

Bakugo's AP Shots punched through the edges of the suit's fabric, searing lines across skin as they came infinitely close to connecting. Until, finally, Hisashi was forced to take an AP shot on course for his shoulder with a forearm.

Bakugo could see the hole torn clear through Hisashi's right arm from here. Their lower forearm lolled to the side, flopping over to a nauseating angle as it hinged around the new joint created by severed bone. The injury was bloodless, edges stained black by the cauterizing heat and terminated in a second injury in the meat of his delts.

Before he could even begin to process that tissues stretched themselves back across the wounds as pink and red flesh consumed the black and severed bone snapped back together. Hisashi barely blinked while it healed. "Well. That was very impressive Bakugo. Also not what I was expecting or aiming for with this exercise, but you've always had a way of surprising me. I'd hate to let that get in the way of this learning opportunity though. Miss Yaoyorozu?"

"Huh?" She made a confused noise, looking up from where she was working. Her eyes were unfocused, struggling to ready for conversation as she was yanked from a flow state.

"Put in some earplugs for a moment." She blinked once, ears flashing lightly. She turned back to her work without another word. Hisashi reached into his jacket, pulled out a gun and fucking shot him.

Bakugo's leg buckled instantly, dropping him to a knee as the bullet ripped through the soft tissues of his thigh. They didn't hit anything important, but my leg won't move. It was easy to slip into an analytical mindset. It didn't hurt as bad as he expected. He registered heat and pressure instead of pain, a hot flash that left his muscles strengthless. He thoughts were absorbed by the mind-fucking experience of his body moving in ways it had never before. The terrible consciousness of how flesh slid against flesh against air.

Hisashi walked over casually as can be. The pain was starting to set in by the time he squatted next to Bakugo. The strange heat was transforming into scalding pain. "The lesson you need to learn is that anyone is capable of beating you with enough practice. And most people can do the same with just a few tools."

"You're seriously fucked in the head," spat Bakugo, with hands pressing against his leg.

"Ex-villain, remember?" Hisashi said quietly as he shrugged, flicking Bakugo in the nose and fixing the bullet hole. The flash of pain that accompanied the healing was much worse than the bullet wound.

"God I want to punch you in the mouth so fucking bad. But you'll just dodge it like a bitch."

"Probably. So, what did we learn from this?"

Bakugo let his only remaining fuck display itself proudly on his hand, inches from Hisashi's nose. Deku's dad was somehow even more obnoxious than he was. "If you make me play a guessing game my next AP Shot is going right through your head."

Hisashi laughed lightly to himself, ruffling Bakugo's hair. "You sound like your mom."

Bakugo pointedly placed on palm directly on Hisashi's forehead, cocking an eyebrow at the man.

"The point is, there's a difference between knowing intellectually you aren't invincible and feeling it," Hisashi answered with a roll of the eyes. The man was unintimidated.

"That's fucking it?" Bakugo raged, yanking his hand away so he could punch the floor with it in ineffectual rage. "You shot me so you could spew some bullshit?"

"When I asked you if you thought you were invincible, you deflected and mocked the question instead of refuting it directly."

Psychoanalyzing someone was a dick move. Especially when the analysis was wrong and the person doing it was an asshole. "And your solution was to shoot me?!"

"That was mostly to prove a point. Now get up, that's only the first lesson you're going to be learning today."

All in all, his first experience getting shot wasn't that bad. There was more adrenaline pumping through him then was in his veins then blood, and that dulled the pain enough to be manageable. His shit getting kicked in before and after was almost fun (though primarily in retrospect) with how fast he'd been improving. Being an autodidactic prodigy was one thing- being a prodigy with a great teacher was another. He made more progress in a few days of training then he had in months and all it cost was aches in muscles and bones he hadn't known existed.

Early nights and relatively late mornings each day could only restore so much of his energy in the aftermath. But he wouldn't allow himself to complain. Even if his bruises had so many bruises stacked on top of each other they looked like a fucked up tie-dye project.

He swung his arms around in a bid to keep them stretched and warm. I need more layers on the next costume design. And not to let the hag know she was right about needing that fucking coat.

Bakugo read somewhere that animals can predict natural disasters far better than humans. Shit was based on shifts in air pressure, electromagnetic fields, or whatever other senses nature deigned to give them. People could do something similar: feel something was off even if they couldn't tell what exactly it was. It could be danger, they could be being followed. At some unconscious level, the human mind could recognize things without being fully cognizant of what stimuli lent them their conclusion. That's what the sixth sense boiled down to.

He figured it had something to do with the animal part of the brain. Instincts that evolution had tested and found kept people alive. Ones the conscious mind couldn't make room for around all the critical thinking that made humans human. Primal things that lived in the spaces between neurons.

Deku would call it something nerdier like "preconscious cognitive processing," then probably rant about the mechanics behind how you can feel and intuit a whole lot more faster than you can consciously.

Bakugo was uninterested in the mechanisms behind that animalistic moment, where the sixth sense reigned and instincts were your currency. That's what separated him from Deku, who was undoubtedly intelligent and talented, but unable to realize their potential because by the time they finished thinking Bakugo was winning victories in the thick of it.

Not the type to bite the hand that enabled him, he respected his instincts. And he trusted them now when they were screaming at him that something was wrong.

They weren't telling him he was being watched, he knew that already. It was impossible to fucking miss. Tons of people had been watching their group- Ponytail and him had fought in the sports festival and were in their full hero costumes. Of course they would draw eyes. Deep in his hindbrain he could feel there was something more. His palms began to sweat in anticipation.

"What're we walking around in circles for anyways?" Bakugo asked, stuffing his hands deep into his costume's pockets to keep them as warm as possible. Cold hands were a recipe for an injury and weakened his detonations. He faked a casual glance around. Tried to pick people out from the crowd. But out of every five people on the street, one or two stole glances they averted when they noticed him noticing them.

"I'm tempering expectations about what a normal patrol looks like," said Hisashi. A normal patrol. Sure. Also, Hisashi wasn't even a hero- why the hell was he allowed to lead them on a patrol? Maybe he got his hands on a hero license with some old connections. The government was more corruption then function by design.

"I don't mind it," said Ponytail, prim and proper. "This is, statistically, how most patrols will actually go in our time as a hero. Most crimes happen out of sight, and there simply aren't that many fights to get involved in. Patrols are primarily focused around community outreach and image maintenance."

"Which is why I want this to be over. A patrol near where All Might's set up is fucking stupid. Criminals know if they start something they'll get their teeth punched in." A fight would go far in easing his mind.

"All Might doesn't punch people's teeth in," corrected Ponytail. "He's very exacting in his use of force."

"I don't remember asking you to lecture me about something I already know."

"Bakugo, lay off and focus," Bakugo took the warning in the meaningful look Hisashi shot him over his shoulder, holding the eye contact for a beat that stretched into the uncomfortable. Bakugo waited for Hisashi to look away first. "You should always be paying attention on patrol, even when there may not be trouble."

"Whatever Ponytail," Bakugo grumbled, pulling his hands out of his pockets and flexing them. He pretended to crack his neck, seizing the chance to scrutinize his surroundings. Nada. It looked like the twelve millions other streets around here. There were no convenient alleys to disappear into. Just endless blocky of tall buildings.

"I apologize if I came off as condescending Ground zero," Ponytail went on, "However I would also appreciate it you, as my classmate and possible future colleague were less abrasive."

Bakugo shot a look towards some of the smaller roads between buildings. Hisashi shook his head minutely. Bakugo quirked a brow, and Hisashi flicked his eyes up. On the roofs? "Gotcha."

"I would appreciate it if you used my hero name as well. 'Ponytail' is demeaning."

The silhouettes standing out from the roof against the oranging sky grew more sinister. He knew most of them were probably innocent, AC units and vents and shit, but he trusted Hisashi and his unknown arsenal of quirks.

There, on the roof of one of the older buildings eight or so stories up. A silhouette with big headphones- or something that looked like that- slipped beneath the lip of the roof. "Alright then Yaoyorozu. If we're here to wave the flag lets pick up the pace and get to the plaza so we can be seen by more than five people at a time."

Hisashi stalled the natural swing of his arms, signing subtly near his leg with the official hero sign language Bakugo had only gotten the chance to start learning recently. "You lead," a sign Bakugo didn't recognize that might have been something like listen, "Maintain safe/safety. Unknown number."

Ponytail sighed with a disappointed shake of her head. Which- fair, but fuck her anyways. Names- proper names, especially hero names- were for people he respected. And, shocker, whining at him didn't put her on the list.

It was a weird idiosyncrasy to have but it was his to hold. He didn't dislike the girl per se. Ponytail wasn't stupid, and he could tell she had the talent and quirk to make it big, (Hisashi wouldn't bother teaching her otherwise) but she reeked of a life of eau de somethings, not sweat and training.

It made her slow on the uptake, and now, when they were being stalked in the field, a liability.

Hisashi paused, pulling out his phone for a moment and swiping through to a contact before laughing. "Bakugo, you know how to get to the plaza from here? I've got to stop in and grab something real quick."

"Yeah." The plaza near the center of downtown Musutafu was very public and frequented by local heroes. It was the place to visit if you wanted a bunch of billboards to throw bright advertisements in your face, and for the walking brand advertisements that were media heroes to get a bit more literal about the same. It was an ecosystem. One built on promoted products and shitty tourist scams and with just enough 300-inch LED displays to hold it all together.

"Good, I'll meet you there in a few minutes. And stick together. I have Ground Zero's contact information, so I'll send him a text if I need to find you both."

Bakugo got the message. Stay together, stay safe, stay in public where they couldn't be ambushed. It would make whoever was watching them less likely to act while Hisashi was free to hunt them down himself. "'Kay."

Ponytail shot Bakugo a dirty look. "Why don't we just go with you on your errand? I wouldn't mind."

"'Cause the old man wants to get the stuff without us there," he said baring his teeth in a smirk, "My bet's the bag he's going to bring back is going to be nondescript," he made air quotes and waggled his eyebrows, "If you know what I mean."

"Bakugo," she halfway gasped, like what he'd said was some horrific offense, " that's hardly appropriate-"

"I just need to purchase a few cleaning products that I'm running low on." You're not funny, Bakugo read loud and clear. Hisashi's eyes darted around one more time as he scratched his chin with four extended fingers, and as he dropped it back signed threats, wait, no- hostiles. Not threats. Threats in hero sign implied an active danger, hostiles meant potential threats. Probably-maybe. Bakugo wasn't sure. "You'll barely even notice I'm gone."

"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

"Oh shut the fuck up and move already," he griped. He grabbed her wrist, yanking her along after him. "See you in a sec old man."

Ponytail yanked back her arm with a huff, but thankfully followed. "I don't understand why you want to get away from him so much," she grumbled mostly to herself.

Bakugo grunted vaguely. Glad for the pockets he could use to hide his twitching. Icy droplets of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. Clammy and slick paranoia dragging Antarctic winter-cold nails along his spine. He kept scanning their surroundings.

"Seriously, what could possibly- slow down Ground Zero!"

"No." He was jogging now. Speeding up all of a sudden was suspicious, but he'd take a bit of suspicion over being exposed any longer with Ponytail as an unknowing weak link. Whoever was following them was clearly listening if Hisashi had decided not to whisper an explanation to them, and that meant he had no way to communicate with her either.

Creation took time to use and prepare items she could use to fight back. If a fight started she wouldn't get those seconds.

They were still several minutes away from the plaza. If we route along the more populated roads, we'll take much longer to arrive and put more civvies in danger. The faster routes will all have one or two spots where we'll be relatively isolated. Ah fuck it.

He tossed a, "Don't fall behind," over his shoulder as he turned onto a side road leading away from the more populated streets.

Ponytail cocked her head, looking between his retreating back and the larger main streets "Where are you going?"

"Shortcut. Come on." She followed with a sigh, jogging to catch back up.

"Are you sure this is the right way?"

"I grew up here."

"I don't understand why you're so hostile to me," she said after a moment of blissful silence. "We're both trying to be heroes. Would it kill you to treat other people with respect?"

"Would it kill you to shut the fuck up?" he snapped like the fraying edges of his stretched patience. Ponytail grabbed his shoulder to stop him, and he was so on edge he had to force his hands not to spark when he whirled to face her. "Don't fucking touch me."

Crossing her arms, she glared at him. "You're typically some level of rude and unpleasant, but today you're being downright nasty. What's your problem with me?"

"The world doesn't revolve around you princess."

"That. That right there. You're being terrible and awful to others on purpose. I've seen your grades, I know you're smart enough to recognize your own behavior is childish. Don't walk away from me!"

He flipped her the bird over his shoulder.

"Urgh. I can't believe you. Winning the sports festival doesn't make you better than everyone else."

"No shit?" He looked both ways coming back out onto a more populated street.

"Well if it's so obvious, why do you keep treating the people around you like garbage? Heck, you've assaulted several of our classmates!"

"Did not." Well kind of. They were sparring. It didn't count. Except for with Deku, and he deserved it for keeping his fucking secrets badly.

"Then in the finals, you were screaming and shaking Todoroki's unconscious body. What if he had a head or neck injury?"

"He didn't."

"Oh my apologies, I didn't realize you were a medical professional qualified to make that call. It must have slipped my mind."

"Do you really want to do this with an audience?" Bakugo snapped, gesturing at the few passerby on these less populous but not empty roads. The people closest to them were now very conspicuously Not Looking.

"Not particularly, but you'll just run from the conversation in private."

"Fuck you. I don't run from anything." There was nothing on the roofs he could see. Where did they go? Had Hisashi handled them all already? Was he waiting for them at the plaza?

"You would and do. And you get away with it because the whole administration is on your side. I don't understand why they keep enabling your behavior by letting you off without consequences. I respect the man and am grateful for his help, but Hisashi-sensei being here would just be another shield for you to hide behind."

"He shot me," he hissed back.

"He healed you right after and you admitted it barely had time to hurt. Your bruises probably hurt more, and he offered to fix those too."

Bakugo growled, nerves and frustration spilling over into impatience. "You want to have this conversation, that's fine. We'll have it later. In private."

"Is there a problem here?" Interjected a tinny voice far too nasally to make that line work. The man who spoke was a heteromorph with a bat quirk, with a beady nose topping a black furred snout and elongated ears that spread out from his head like radar dishes.

"No. Piss off." Something was off about him. Bakugo couldn't tell how but he could feel this person wasn't being genuine. They were playing a character. Overselling the nasal quality of their voice to sound more childish and more obnoxious. But why?

"I'm sorry, please forgive his attitude, he's been having a rough day," Ponytail apologized politely, palms out to placate the both of them. "We're okay, but thank you for asking."

The bat-person's tiny eyes stared skeptically out from their shadowed sockets at Bakugo. "He looks like he's about to bite you."

"He's just like that," she dismissed with a laugh, "It's fine, really."

"Doesn't look fine."

Annoyed, Bakugo's distrusting eyes roved over the man. The webbing under his arms looked almost like bat wings. His enlarged ears indicated enhanced hearing, and he wore dark but not black clothing suited to blending into shadows. With great effort, he forced down his screaming sixth sense and spoke calmly. "You heard her already. Ponytail, let's go." He pressed every bit of urgency he could into his voice, hoping beyond hope she'd pick up something about this clusterfuck.

"Are you sure you're okay miss?" Asked a second man who peeled off from the limited crowd to join them. He hedged into their space like he was conquering territory. Gills ran up the sides of their neck, thin fleshy cuts that rippled as he breathed. The edges of his face blended up and out into fin-like crests that covered the spectrum between coral red and the deep blue of open waters. They were thin, shorter and spoke hesitantly.

It wasn't fucking real. It was more mind games, meant to throw him off and manipulate him. He was acting too. Bakugo's paranoia ramped up further as the alarm bells in his head suffocated him with noise.

"I'm sure, but thank you for your concern," Ponytail said, diplomatic and utterly ignorant.

He jerked his head for her to follow, unwilling to reopen a dialogue with the two hostile heteromorphs.

"You can't treat her like that," said the fish-man, taking another step towards them.

Ponytail smiled, clearly concealing her discomfort at their insistence. "He hasn't quite internalized propriety yet, but he's really not that bad," she said with a practiced smile, trying to take the edge off her joke.

Bakugo mumbled to her under his breath as he grabbed her wrist. "Stop engaging them."

The fishman took an aggressive step forward. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Go fuck yourself," he snapped, giving his best attempt at an aura of immediate and exaggerated violence. He'd seen Hisashi do it once when an asshole got pushy with Auntie Inko in public, and the other lady almost pissed themself. His version wasn't nearly that good. Unfortunately. But it was good enough the skittish heteromorphs stepping out of their comfort zones as bystanders that guano and guppy were pretending to be would be backing down. "And stop following us."

Ponytail gasped. "Bakugo!"

Guppy's face contorted into a snarl that carried every bit of the hatred he'd been bottling up beneath the surface, that he couldn't hold in any longer even in an act. "Just because you won the sports festival doesn't mean you can be and asshole and assault people-" he stepped right into their space, grabbing at Bakugo's arm in that way busybody bystanders sometimes do to keep someone there for the police to arrive. Don't let him grab you, screamed alarm bells in his head loud enough to restart his heart..

"Fuck off!" Bakugo snarled back, moving to knock away their hands. He knew it was a mistake as soon as he did it. The man's snarl melded into a sneer dripping with dark, satiated glee in a terrible, elongated moment. His gut dropped like he'd eaten tungsten. Bakugo could almost read Guppy's thoughts on face as their hands sparked right up against Bakugo's gloves. Soaked through as they were by his clammy, nerve-ridden skin.

Sometimes you didn't need a telepathy quirk. I fucking got you!

The explosion pressure and heat, smokeless. The fish was launched back so messily that Bakugo knew he hadn't braced for the explosion at all. Every bit of this was intended, including- especially the martyring. The heteromorph skidded along the concrete with nasty tearing noises. His head cracked against the pavement. The wet noise was unforgettable.

That's when the screaming started. People around them panicked. Many started running. A few voices farther away shouted hysterically about a villain attack as they fled. Which was a fair assumption, but hurt. Bakugo was frozen.

He barely registered Hisashi arriving, materializing from the crowd and running to check on the downed suicide bomber. What the fuck. What the actual fuck.

"What the hell Bakugo?" Ponytail screamed next to him.

"It wasn't me," he whispered, numb. Then, stronger, "He sparked off. He's got a fire quirk. I didn't do that."

"He was a fish heteromorph," said Ponytail, like that was the only explanation needed. It kind of was. "You attacked him!" She visibly fought to get herself under control. "Don't even think about lying to me," she managed, angry and getting angrier. Good to see Creati had a spine in there. He wished it had come out over something else.

Bakugo understood, unfortunately. Days ago that would have been all he needed to come to the same conclusion she was making. He wouldn't have believed someone in his exact position no matter what they claimed. Days ago. He wished it was even just a few minutes ago. Numbness was quickly turning to anger- much easier to deal with. "It wasn't me," he snarled. "I didn't do that."

Hisashi leaned down to check the downed man's breathing, pressed two fingers to their throat and steadied their neck. He stood, and his presence sapped the worst of the panic. He announced that Guppy was fine; they were only a bit scraped up. But Bakugo knew Hisashi's quirk could bring back the almost-dead, and also knew that was almost certainly the man's unaltered condition after tanking that level of explosion point blank.

That wet sound had too much crunch in it.

Ponytail was saying something but it was distant and buried beneath the sound of the panicking crowd. Each rapid blink- Bakugo wasn't tearing up, fuck you- carved away a layer of his shock and placed it on the bonfire of his frustration. Hisashi had gotten in front of him and was trying to get his attention. "He had a fire quirk," he explained "I didn't do it."

"I know, I felt it." Hisashi reassured him. "Everything will be fine."

"Oh shut the fuck up and move already," griped Bakugo. He grabbed Yaoyorozu's wrist, yanking her along after him. "See you in a sec old man."

Hisashi was rather reluctantly impressed with the kid. Bakugo was by no means an archetypal hero. Rough around the edges, quick to anger and slow to forgive, he was unpleasant to deal with and hard to handle. That was despite the fact Hisashi was already one of the few people Bakugo respected. But for all his flaws, incompetence was not one of them. He was an exceptional fighter with killer instincts.

Most people failed to realize what it really meant for him to win the Sports Festival. It meant that out of every single hero hopeful his age in all of Japan (in possibly the most impressive UA class to date) he was the best. He'd beaten Endeavor's son, who showed signs of being trained practically since birth.

If Hisashi was still in his old profession he would have put quite a bit of effort into bringing someone of Bakugo's talents and exploitable instability to his side. He would've molded him into a top enforcer and blunt instrument then thrown him against the best of the best the heroes could offer to secure more advantages for his empire.

The brat's lucky I'm retired. And that he's a family friend. Hisashi grumbled mentally as he navigated his exit, finding a spot next to a dull patch of wall out of sight of any cameras and pulled on his stealth quirk suite and a silent flight quirk.

The rooftops around them him were empty and unsurveilled. His figure warped back into reality like a visual glitch as he opened his mouth to taste the air. Nothing. Super hearing returned the same results. He cycled through his supersensory options until thermal vision hit on something. A large patch of concrete scuffed and substantially warmer than the roof around it.

A big guy then. Their muscle or transport most likely. Working with three or four others at most, meaning this was a small team op. Probably surveillance. The big one was his priority target. He jumped the gap to the other building, landing silently and hunting for a scent once again. It was cold up here and windy, but that couldn't disperse the lingering trail. Iodine and rubbing alcohol mostly, with disinfectant and hospital plastics rounding it out. It lent Hisashi a growing suspicion about the kind of creature he was looking for.

With his trail confirmed he traded the majority of his stealth quirks for speed. Finding them quickly would require his typical three quirks for mobility, plus the quirks he needed to continue tracking meaning he had space for two, maybe three stealth quirks. He kept the silent steps and partial camouflage and moved.

He took free breaths for the first time in a while as he realized just how much he'd missed this. His cover had required a certain commitment to normalcy. The Japanese Government was quick to jump on any evidence of high-power illegal quirk use and his identity as Midoriya Hisashi, the mild-mannered family man back from overseas with a mild flame-breath quirk, couldn't survive that kind of scrutiny.

It was worth it. Unquestionably. The last few years spent with his family were the best he'd had in a century. He'd shoved Shigaraki Hisashi into a box and did his best to leave it behind. He'd ignored the hunger that built in his palms and gnawed at the corners of his mind where his stored quirks resided.

To let go was a fantastic relief. The wind pulled at him, molding his suit to his form. His hair would be a mess at the end of this if he didn't do something about it, he knew from experience, but he couldn't bring himself to care as the rooftops blurred into an unbroken road that rose to meet his silent footsteps.

He caught up to his target quickly. His stalker was covering ground in wide arcs. I suppose I'm the target then. He relaxed slightly. The kids will be fine on their own.

His target was a distended mockery of a man. Huge and hulking. Covered in leathery purple skin its bulging black muscle fibers threatened to tear apart at the staples. Brain and bits of raw flesh were exposed to the elements.

The signs of surgical intervention were obvious everywhere. This person- and that was a generous description- was a weapon of a type he could recognize. This was not the first attempt to mimic his abilities with science and would not be the last.

But this one has succeeded beyond anything I've seen before.

There were certain fundamental realities that made granting quirks difficult. Even with his power, ensuring that his recipients could actually survive his gifts was a mess of guesswork. The body had a tendency to fall apart when imbued with too much power. This creature was a good example of that. It needed a decent regeneration quirk in order to survive existing in this state. And it wouldn't be useful to send out on a mission like this if that's all it had.

Only one way to find out. The creature never felt Hisashi make contact, never had a chance to fight back as Hisashi Overhauled all it's important bits into jelly to keep it immobile and then went to work with his original quirk.

"Fuck," Hisashi whispered in awe as he started feeling out the things' powers. His quirk was from the first generation of mutants, when quirk expressions were more primal and lacked the secondary mutations and coherence that had evolved over the generations.

All for One was a simple power. He placed the holes in his palms against someone, and could steal their quirk. It wasn't as effortless a process as he made others believe. He had to fight the willpower of the quirk's owner and the animal intelligence of the quirk itself, but he and his quirk were built to dominate. It was rarely an obstacle.

All for One purred as he wielded it for the first time in a few years. Hisashi gripped its leash tightly, muzzling its desire to hoard. He willed it to settle, but after years of near-hibernation it had stirred at the scent of a meal.

Hisashi was almost certainly the greatest expert on quirks in the entire world. He had wielded thousands of them, and moved tens of thousands through him. He knew with certainty truths that the scientific community were just beginning to hypothesize. Chief amongst these were that quirks were alive.

It was why most attempts at replicating what he could do failed. You could sequence and copy the genetic code and markers for a quirk perfectly, insert it all in utero and still fail. Until now, he thought the best you could do was implant stolen genetic material as a stabilizer, and in the process essentially blend up the quirk's mind and creating a far lesser copy of the original that at least avoided the consequences of a messy rejection.

And yet. "They've lobotomized it," Hisashi whispered in wonder. The minds that made up the quirks inside the monster were damaged, some more than others (to the point he couldn't tell whether there were six or seven distinct quirks in the thing) but they were intact enough to function at an appreciable fraction of their full potential. The regeneration power was in the best shape of them all.

Someone out there had created a successful enough copy of a powerful regeneration quirk to offset the degenerative consequences of a drastically weakened quirk conflict. Well, mostly. The brain of the creature was taking falling apart and regenerating as well in a process that murdered any higher brain function. But the creator took advantage of that to turn this thing into a perfect, unthinking tool.

Hisashi would love to meet whoever was responsible for this. They'd got much further than Dr. Garaki and him. Genius like this was truly uncommon. He spent a few minutes examining the creature further, trying to puzzle out exactly how they'd done it before he heard the distant sound of an explosion.

"Fuck," he cursed as he turned the creature and it's quirks to dust, swapped back to his mobility quirks and booked it in the direction of his interns.

@HNWOfficial | Hero News Network | 8:14 PM · May 17, 2184
[Text Description: A slightly shaky but high-quality video, taken from a phone from a low angle shows UA student Ground Zero (Bakugo Katsuki) as he argues with Creati (Yaoyorozu Momo) and then with two bystanders. The cameraperson gets closer and audio of the conversation becomes able to be made out. "Just because you won the sports festival doesn't mean you can be and asshole and assault people-" is heard as the civilian steps closer to Bakugo. "Fuck off!" is recorded loud and clear before there is an explosion and the man is blown back off his feet. The video cuts out as the cameraperson curses and fumbles the phone.]
Replies 32.8k | Retweets 52.6k | Likes 179.3k

Replying to @HNWOfficial
@Tatskuobi | TatsuoKBI | 8:18 PM · May 17
What the fuck is going over there @HNWOfficial @HPSC @UAHigh? This is insane behavior from the winner of the sports festival. HE'S supposed to be a future hero?
Replies 537 | Retweets 495 | Likes 8.9k

Replying to @HNWOfficial
@Tredos3733 | UnchainedUnbowed | 8:37 PM · May 17
Nobody cares about how the two people that got attacked by that psycho were heteromorphs? Of course not.
Replies 309 | Retweets 110 | Likes 3.7k

Replying to @HNWOfficial
@TRWY7826 | Huntzilla | 11:32 PM · May 17
i can't believe our government gives qualified immunity to those cruel fucks he's not even a hero yet and he's already their perfect little killer brutalizing minorities
Replies 502 | Retweets 165 | Likes 831