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Midoriya came back to the dorms from his home trip moving differently.
At first, Shinsou had assumed that he had just been up to his usual bullshit. Running around and getting himself hurt, probably by getting someone’s kitten or flight-Quirked toddler out of a tree. Something like that, something dumb and golden-hearted and befitting the Golden Child of Class 1-A. He didn’t really care. If Midoriya wanted to do something dumb and risk his position at the top of the class, then he could do that. Shinsou would gladly watch him crash and burn.
Then, though, he noticed how Midoriya was reacting to people. It had only been three days, and Midoriya was acting different from normal. He wasn’t “hiding in the bathrooms to change before Heroics” level of different. Instead, he was keeping his back away from everyone. It was like he didn’t want anyone to see what had happened.
Which, okay. Maybe he just didn’t want the others to see his scars. Except that theory fell through when Shinsou realized Midoriya didn’t hide his scars. He wore what he needed to at any moment—school uniform, gym uniform, hero costume, casual clothes. All of it was the same with or without his scars, so he wasn’t hiding those.
Midoriya was hiding something else, and Shinsou couldn’t think of a damn thing that it might be.
For now, unfortunately, Aizawa had teamed him up with Class A’s precious Golden Child, so he had to deal with whatever Midoriya was doing. Hopefully it wouldn’t be for long. They were working on some sort of rescue training, and since it was an “emergency drill” they had to do it in their own civilian clothes. Something about it being for if they were undercover?
Do Limelight Heroes even do undercover? Not that Shinsou was planning on being in the Limelight. He might be a Twilight hero, half in and half out of the spotlight. Underground was more his kind of thing, honestly, but there was a certain appeal to being a Twilight Hero with his kind of Quirk. Something about rubbing it in the faces of everyone who had ever called him a villain. So, sure, Shinsou had plenty of reason to be doing this sort of training.
But Midoriya? Really? And why did they have to be teamed up together, anyways? Sure, Aizawa had his reasons, but there were reasons certain people didn’t get paired up together. For instance, Bakugou and Uraraka? Banned pairing. They caused too much chaos together. Iida and Shouto? Also a bad idea, they would probably kill someone. Even worse if they were in a trio with Golden Boy. A really weird banned team was Midoriya, Shouto, Iida, Kirishima, and Yaoyorozu. That one was weird, Shinsou didn’t know what was behind it and no one would tell him. He’d have to break into Aizawa’s office sometime if he wanted to actually find out.
Hopefully Nedzu would be fine with him crawling around the vents again. Maybe they could have tea over the teachers’ lounge like that one time. The chamomile had been divine, Yaoyorozu would have murdered for it. Hopefully. Maybe not, actually. She didn’t seem the type to murder. Neither did Iida, though Bakugou…hmm.
Shinsou was so lost in thought he smacked into Midoriya’s back.
Class A’s Golden Boy sucked in a sharp breath, glancing back at him. There was a flash of something in his eyes. “What’s the matter?” Shinsou asked, sharply.
Swallowing, Midoriya turned ahead. Good. Be—whatever it is. Embarrassed. Intimidated. I don’t care. He glanced over Midoriya’s shoulder. Beyond him, there was a pile of debris in the way.
“Of course. Fantastic. Of course this can’t be easy. What are we meant to be doing, anyways? Kaminari was talking to me and now that dumb song he was humming is stuck in my head.” Shinsou replied.
“Do you know the artist? Usually singing or thinking of the end of the song helps.” Midoriya mumbled, pausing as he stood in front of the debris. He glanced around. “And we’re meant to be escaping from villains and getting to a safe house after our cover has been blown. It’s sort of like—I don’t know. Who was the artist?”
“Some Pre-Quirk artist. I’m sure she’s not exactly your type, you don’t seem interested in that sort of thing.” Shinsou said.
“That sort of thing?” Midoriya echoed almost mindlessly, crouched by the debris. Some of it was stones, but there was a big, metal construction bar laid across part of it. A fair amount of dirt made up the pile, too. It could be moved, but Shinsou had a feeling that would take a while. Besides, Midoriya said they were trying to get to a “safe house”. That probably meant they were being pursued.
Which means we don’t really have time to chat about Quirkless artists. It had been hard enough to get Kaminari to listen to some new bands due to his ADHD. Getting him to listen to Quirkless artists on his own was amazing. Shinsou wasn’t in the mood for whatever Quirkist bullshit Midoriya was going to pull.
“Quirkless artists. You know.” Midoriya flinched again. Weird. Whatever. “Look, I don’t have time for whatever anti-Quirkless thing you’re going through right now. Or whatever the hell you’re doing right now. We need to get moving, so if you could not put my grade in danger then that would be great.”
Slowly, Midoriya pushed himself up. “Right, right. I, uh—” He wavered a bit as he stood. Rolling his eyes, Shinsou turned away. If Midoriya got this uncomfortable when it came to Quirkless people—
Guess Class A’s Golden Boy has a little bit of tarnish, he thought triumphantly, turning away.
Midoriya started walking again. “There’s another way that we can take, since we can’t use this one. It’s not as obvious.”
Shinsou grabbed his arm. Immediately, Midoriya flinched and pulled away. Green eyes darted up to Shinsou’s face and then pulled away again. His breath caught in his throat audibly. Yeah, you’re scared of me now, aren’t you? Dick. Just say what you’re thinking of, stop acting.
“If it’s ‘not as obvious’,” Shinsou sneered the words. He was being mean. So what? Midoriya had been hounding him for weeks. About his Quirk, about his training, about his time with Aizawa, about how to use the capture scarf, and it was annoying. Midoriya was annoying.
Midoriya turned away from him. “If you’re worried about Aizawa, he’s not who’s pursuing us. I know my classmates. If you want to get a good grade, then we need to work together.” He glanced over at Shinsou, “And please don’t touch me.”
He began to walk off.
Grumbling for a bit, Shinsou followed him. That dumb song Kaminari had been humming echoed in the back of his mind. He continued to walk after Midoriya, quieting down as he did. He had better things to do than continue talking with Golden Boy. Shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket, Shinsou glanced up and around. The tunnels around them were dark. If Kaminari were here, he would describe them as mysterious.
If Kaminari were here, then I would be enjoying this a lot more, Shinsou thought, scowling at Midoriya’s back. I don’t know what Aizawa was thinking, pairing us up. There are so many other people I actually like who I get along with.
The list wasn’t even short! He got along with Jirou, Kouda, Sero, Shoji, Mina, Kaminari, Kirishima, Tsu, he would even take Iida or Aoyama over Midoriya. He and Yaoyorozu got along decently. He was civil with Hagakure, Ojiro, Sato, Shouto, and Tokoyami. The only people he didn’t get along with were Bakugou, Midoriya, and (oddly enough) Uraraka. She and Midoriya were close, though, so he guessed she just didn’t like him because he didn’t like Midoriya. Fair enough. He wouldn’t like someone who didn’t like Kaminari.
Midoriya paused, turning his head from one side to the other. Then, he stood there. Doing…nothing. Great. I’m going to fail. Would Aizawa kill me if I went and did this on my own? Surely he wouldn’t.
Midoriya turned to the left and began walking down a narrow tunnel that Shinsou was pretty sure they shouldn’t be going down. They weren’t even on one of Yuuei’s typical campuses. They were in an abandoned city, one that had been evacuated after some villain battle not too long ago. Somehow, though, Midoriya knew the tunnels? Of course he does. When does Midoriya know anything normal?
As they walked, Shinsou spotted a flash of something in the corner of his eye. Midoriya led them through another intricate series of tunnels, murmuring to himself. They paused at yet another fork in the paths. Midoriya scanned his hands along the wall, still mumbling.
“Care to let me in on the secret?” Shinsou asked, watching him. Midoriya didn’t reply. Getting closer, Shinsou listened to what he was saying.
“Fox follows the crane, taps a beat on the ribs. Lilies and crows, lilies and crows…street names?” He glanced at the ceiling above them, closing his eyes. “Brick and mortar, six steps to the right.”
Okay. Guess I’m not getting any answers. Was Midoriya’s shirt darker? What had happened? Did he get wet? Shinsou held out a hand, but he didn’t feel any droplets. When he placed his own hand on the wall, his fingers slipped into little divots and dents, scraping along the pebbles and stones, but otherwise—nothing. At least, not something he could pick up on. What does Midoriya know that I don’t?
Groaning under his breath, Midoriya slumped to the wall suddenly and touched his head. His hand went down his neck, slipping under his shirt. There was a soft wince. When he pulled his fingers away, they were slicked with something dark.
Shinsou didn’t even need enough light to know that was blood.
Huh.
Midoriya wiped his hand off on his jeans, then glanced back at Aizawa. “We’re the last group. I’m sure that we’ll hear Ojiro and Kaminari coming soon. Let’s wrap this up. We’re going—left.”
He turned and began walking down, and Shinsou passed where Midoriya had paused for some time. Another thing caught in the corner of his eye. Now that he was closer, and now that he had the chance, he got a proper look at it.
There, in the brick and dirt wall, someone had carved a symbol into it. There was paint there, only flecks and really almost an echo than anything else, but there was paint. It was just barely fluorescent, a faint red that Shinsou knew.
How does someone like Midoriya know the Fae Court colors? As he followed Midoriya deeper into the tunnels, the specific words and phrasings that Midoriya had been repeating came back to him. And they registered.
And how does he know the Fae Court codes?
Shinsou followed Midoriya quietly and resolved to tell Aizawa about the bleeding—hopefully I end up being in the know on what the hell is going on here.
“Aizawa, Midoriya’s bleeding and he’s hiding what’s causing it.”
Now, Shinsou had meant to walk in and have a bit more tact. As it was…apparently, he was not going for tact. Either way, Aizawa ended up sighing and hiding his face in his hands. The tests he had been grading sat on the table with a damning amount of red ink on it. Wincing internally for whatever poor classmate was destined for remedials, Shinsou turned to his mentor.
“Of course he is. How did you know this?” Aizawa asked, pushing himself away from his table and immediately going for his and Hisashi’s coffee maker. Grabbing the calico cat mug, Aizawa shoved it under the spout and started up the Keurig. It was a gift from Class A after Aizawa finally expelled Mineta. It took Mineta sending hate emails to all the girls, saying Hagakure kept herself invisible because of how ugly she must be, and telling Yaoyorozu that she was naggy and sounded like an old woman, but still. The grape boy was gone and Shinsou had gotten his space in Class A, so they felt the need to celebrate. With a new Kuerig. Apparently.
“When we were walking through the tunnels.” They had passed their test. Flying colors kind of passing, actually. He was pretty sure Aizawa had been impressed.
The Kuerig began to scream oddly, pouring coffee into Aizawa’s mug. Honestly, Shinsou could use coffee himself. Especially if he needed to be dealing with the Golden Boy.
“I don’t know how long he’s been bleeding for. He was on his feet and seemed fine, but his clothes started to get…darker at the back. And when he rubbed the back of his neck—”
“His fingers came away slicked with blood. Damnit, I thought he just scraped his fingers or something. I should have known.” Pulling his coffee mug out once the Kuerig was done, Aizawa sighed. It was long. It was loud. It was almost labored.
He chugged the entire sixteen ounces of black coffee in a few seconds.
Setting his mug down, he turned to Shinsou. “Let’s go find the Problem Children. Maybe one of them will have…some sort of idea of what went on.”
With a nod, Shinsou followed him.
When they got to the dorms, Midoriya was sitting with everyone else on the couch. He had changed his shirt out for a buttoned one. He’d been wearing a lot of button-ups lately, actually. This one was dark blue, almost black, and he had the sleeves rolled down so the cuffs were around his wrists. Apparently, Mina was thrilled—she was still waxing poetics about Midoriya’s sudden upgrade in fashion (unfortunately, Shinsou knew about the “Shirt”…shirts. That was a weird phrase, why did Midoriya make him do things like this?).
So we’re not going to be able to interrogate him easily. Shinsou glanced over at Aizawa, who was watching the chatter with narrowed eyes. “Bakugou. Kitchen. Now.” He said. Turning to Shinsou, he nodded to the couch. Stay here.
Sighing, Shinsou walked over to the couch and leaned against the back of it. Aizawa and Bakugou vanished into the kitchen. “So, what are we doing here?” He looked down at the coffee table, squinting. “Is that…chess?”
Kaminari turned to Shinsou, grinning. “Yep!”
Across the coffee table, fingers pressed to her temples, Yaoyorozu took a slow, steadying breath. Tsu patted her shoulder soothingly. “Kaminari, please choose a piece.”
“He’s been driving Yaoyorozu up the wall. It’s almost impressive.” Jirou commented, turning to Shinsou.
“Wow. I didn’t know that was possible unless you were Bakugou.”
“What was that about me?” Bakugou demanded, coming back into the room. “Round Cheeks, Aizawa wants to talk to you.”
“Right!” Shoving herself up, Uraraka said, “Good luck, Yaoyorozu. You’ve got this!”
“If Kaminari chooses a piece!”
“Dunce Face! Stop driving Ponytail up the wall and choose a damn piece!” Bakugou ordered.
Flailing, Kaminari turned around to the board and grabbed his knight. “Uh-ah—I—”
“JUST MOVE A PIECE!” Yaoyorozu and Bakugou shouted at the same time. One was begging. One was murderous. It was easy to realize who.
“Please, Kaminari.” Yaoyorozu begged, hanging her head.
Finally, Kaminari put his knight down.
Sighing in relief, Yaoyorozu tipped her head back. She reached out and picked up her bishop, then guided it out to beat one of Kaminari’s pawns. Not only was it an easy move for her, it was also an opening for Kaminari. The real question was whether or not he would take it, or if he would drive Yaoyorozu insane again.
Thankfully, Kaminari’s chess skills were at least slightly above mediocre. He grabbed the bishop with his own pawn. Yaoyorozu and half of the audience they had collected shared sighs of relief. Oddly enough, Midoriya didn’t react—
Shinsou froze when he realized that Midoriya was not in the room anymore.
Sitting up, he glanced around again, just in case. How did he do that so fast? He’s not exactly the easiest to miss. Despite that, Midoriya had just up and disappeared into the dorms somewhere. He was just gone.
Pushing himself up, Shinsou hurried towards the kitchens. He knocked on the doorframe in a quick, three-beat succession. Immediately, Aizawa appeared. Their gazes met. Frowning, he glanced around the room. Behind him, Uraraka simply tipped her head to the side, curious.
“Let’s go, Shinsou. Did anyone see where Midoriya went?”
“His dorm room.” Someone replied.
Then, Shinsou was following Aizawa into the hallways and hurrying to the elevator.
Midoriya’s door was already closed. Walking up, Aizawa didn’t even hesitate before he knocked. A few moments passed. “Midoriya. It’s Aizawa and Shinsou. We’re here to talk.” Aizawa began.
Another long moment passed. Glancing at Aizawa, Shinsou turned to stare at the door. Then, it opened just a crack. Midoriya peered out at them, looking for all the world like he was the guiltiest man alive. “Do we have to talk?”
“Yes.” Aizawa replied. For once, he actually sounded…apologetic, though. Looking at Midoriya, he gently added, “But I would prefer to have this conversation inside your room. It’ll be easier for all of us.”
Nodding, Midoriya took a slow, steadying breath. Then, he stepped back, opening the door more. He wouldn’t look at Shinsou or Aizawa. But he let them in, and that was what mattered.
Of course his room is All Might-themed, Shinsou thought, glancing around. Everything was shades of blue and red, with a bit of yellow and white thrown in for good measure. Midoriya sat heavily on his bed, curling his fingers in the cushions. It was like he expected to be beaten or something, jeeze.
Shinsou turned to look at Aizawa as his mentor moved. As he watched, he noticed Midoriya shaking a little bit. Just a tremble. Like a really young tree in a really strong breeze. Really, this was the famed Golden Child of Class A?
“Midoriya,” Aizawa began, voice soft. He crouched in front of Midoriya, expression soft. Midoriya stared at him, hands kneading his jeans at his knees. “Can you roll up your sleeves for me? Please?”
Midoriya did, hands shaking a little bit. His arms were bruised, but otherwise unharmed. Softly, Aizawa exhaled. Oh. He was checking for—Shinsou studied Midoriya’s face. There was so much tiredness there. I can understand why, I guess. Aizawa’s just covering his bases, though, isn’t he? He has to be. I don’t think Midoriya is—he doesn’t seem like the type.
He mentally smacked himself. Mental illnesses don’t give a shit about who you are. They just want to hurt you. Fighting back the cynical side of himself, he turned back to the situation at hand. Midoriya glanced at him. Aizawa had asked something else.
“Kid. I know it’s not exactly comfortable, but—”
“It’s not that. Uhm…” Midoriya trailed off, fiddling with his jeans again. “Does Shinsou have to be in here? This kind of stuff might—might be upsetting for him.”
“I’ve seen bruises before.” Shinsou replied instinctively, smacking a hand over his mouth. Turning, Aizawa shot him a look. Midoriya ducked his head. “It’ll be fine, Midoriya. If I need to leave, then I will.”
Midoriya waited for another second. Then, turning to Aizawa, he said, “My mom has always loved me. She didn’t do this. It was…other people.”
“Friends?”
“Old classmates?” Midoriya winced as he spoke. Aizawa watched him coolly. Empathetically. There was a total lack of a threat, somehow. Really, it was impressive. Shinsou needed Aizawa to teach him his secrets. “I just—I don’t want my mom to get in trouble. She didn’t know about this; I chose not to tell her. She’s stressed enough as it is, and I know she’s going to have to be told about this, but—”
Gently, Aizawa touched Midoriya’s wrist. Flinching, Midoriya glanced down. Again, Aizawa’s face softened. Then, he smiled. Waited.
Hands shaking, Midoryia rolled his sleeves down and then carefully began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled his sleeves off, then paused as he began to roll the shirt off his shoulders. A slow, shaky breath left him. He glanced at Shinsou.
Shinsou looked back at him.
None of them spoke.
Sighing, Midoriya closed his eyes and pulled the shirt off. The black undershirt was next, and Midoriya’s arms shook. He winced as he pulled that off.
There were bandages around his chest, his stomach, and his shoulders. “Midoriya—” Aizawa began.
“I know, I know. It’s dangerous to bind your chest and ribs. I just—” Wincing, Midoriya slowly began to unwrap the bandages. “I didn’t want to bleed on my clothes. My mom would notice, and my friends would if she didn’t. So, I just—chose to risk it. I heal fast anyways. And—”
Finishing unwrapping the bandages, Midoriya shifted and turned around, exposing his back to Shinsou and Aizawa.
His back was destroyed, from his shoulders to just above his waistband. His skin was carved up with words. Squinting at them, Shinsou started to make out—oh. Those are—
Slurs.
Quirkless slurs.
Aizawa’s face had paled slightly. “How did they do this?” It didn’t sound like an interrogation. (Were we really going to interrogate him in the first place? Am I thinking that because I wanted to interrogate Midoriya? Shinsou wondered.)
There was a weak laugh, like his back wasn’t covered in blood and cracking scabs (they had broken every time he moved. No wonder he was acting off. Could he even breathe without breaking the scabs?). Reaching up, Midoriya went to rub the back of his neck. One of the wounds started bleeding. With a wince, Midoriya dropped his hand back to his lap. His fingers were wrapping in the fabric of his jeans again. He exhaled shakily.
“A knife?” Swallowing audibly, Midoriya murmured, “I, uh. I’m not popular at home. I was a late bloomer, and not—not the kind of late bloomer where you’re, like, eight years old and then your Quirk appears. I was—I was the kind of late bloomer where. Uhm. Where they don’t think you’re going to get your Quirk. And your ID sometimes still says Quirkless and hospitals turn you away for physicals and please stop me talking I don’t know what I’m saying—”
“When did your Quirk come in?” Aizawa prompted.
“The 26th of February.” Midoriya wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing his arms. “I was fifteen.”
Oh. That’s—I think that’s impossibly late. Shinsou stared at him. Sighing, Aizawa rubbed a hand over his face.
Apparently, Midoriya took the tired gesture to mean something else. Whipping around so fast the few closed injuries on his shoulders started bleeding, he started waving his hands, “I didn’t mean to lie! I didn’t—I mean, it kind of wasn’t important and we had bigger things to worry about and then I thought you might expel me but you didn’t and then the USJ happened and it never seemed like the right time and I was handling things okay and I—I’m sorry.”
He flinched when Aizawa reached for him again.
This time, Aizawa didn’t touch him. Hand hovering over Midoriya’s shoulder, he waited for a second. He pulled away. “Kid. Midoriya.” Again, another wince. “You don’t need to apologize. Yes, I am frustrated. I am not frustrated with you. Am I correct in assuming that another adult knows about this? The Quirk part, not the—” He stopped talking. Shinsou didn’t feel like finishing. Apparently, neither did Midoriya.
“All Might does. Uh—Recovery Girl, Nedzu, and—and Bakugou know how late my Quirk came in. I knew him growing up, so—he knows.” Bakugou’s not an adult. He’s not exactly what I would call friendly, either.
“Alright. Is there a reason you didn’t go and see Recovery Girl after this happened?” Midoriya hesitated. His mouth drew into a thin line, he started fiddling with his jeans again. “No one is going to get into trouble. I need more information so I know how to continue.”
“Recovery Girl and I—I don’t deal well with doctors. Most of them either told me to give up on trying to be a Hero while growing up and—others were a bit mean. I mean, I’m sure Tokoyami and Shoji and Mina and Kouda have all had it worse, Tsu, too, but—”
“This isn’t the Oppression Olympics.” Shinsou bit out. Again, Aizawa glanced at him. This time, though, Shinsou met Midoriya’s gaze and kept talking, “Being a heteromorph sucks. Big whoop. What would you be saying if one of them was sitting here and saying their pain doesn’t matter because I had to deal with being told I had a villain’s Quirk? Hmm?”
A bit of guilt washed over Midoriya’s face.
“Start thinking about yourself for once, dammit. You’re not special, so quit thinking you can handle everything on your own and let someone else do something nice for you.” Confusion split Aizawa’s eyes for a second. “Are all Class A students this self-sacrificing? I thought the forced friend-making was bad enough, I didn’t know everyone needed therapy, too. You’re making me feel normal, and Hound Dog’s told me to beware of that.”
Aizawa opened his mouth. Probably to tell Shinsou to fuck off. Instead, Midoriya snorted, smiled slightly. Aizawa turned back to him, focusing on the person who actually mattered at the moment.
“I guess you’re right. I have a—there’s a med kit under my sink, Shinsou. Can you grab it for me?” Nodding, Shinsou turned and went for Midoriya’s en suite. If Midoriya wanted him to leave, he was probably going to be talking to Aizawa. Good sign. Plus, he clearly trusts me enough to go through his drawers. Guess that’s…another good sign?
Wonder if he does any vigilantism, he thought as he pulled the medical kit out, finding it…oddly heavy. Well, actually. He grew up Quirkless. He mentioned he doesn’t get along with doctors. There was an implication of some sort about him and Recovery Girl not quite getting along. Something’s happened there. Maybe he’s not a vigilante. Maybe he’s just traumatized.
When he returned to Midoriya and Aizawa’s side, Midoriya was lying down on his stomach with his shirt off. At the moment, Aizawa was gently tracing his fingers over the slurs carved into his student’s body. The wounds were dark, violent. Bloody, even days after they had happened.
When Shinsou arrived, he set the medical kit down and then looked around for the nearest chair. He wasn’t going anywhere, Midoriya hadn’t kicked him out. Neither had Aizawa. So, might as well start fixing shit now.
Grabbing the nearest chair, which happened to be the one at Midoriya’s desk, Shinsou dragged it back over. Head tilting to the side, Midoriya looked at him. Aizawa began treating his injuries. “So,” cracking his knuckles, Shinsou started, “looks like we’ll be here a while. Why don’t I tell you about my Quirk, and you can do whatever cool analysis it is that I’ve heard so much about from the others?”
Midoriya managed a tight smile, Aizawa’s own eyes scrunched up slightly, and Shinsou started to speak.