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“Midoriya.”
Shinsou stared at Midoriya Izuku, sitting in the chair in front of Nedzu’s desk. His head was bowed, he looked like he would rather be anywhere else. Fingers tangling in his pant legs, Midoriya stared at a spot on the floor. There was a slight shake to his shoulders. Swallowing, he stayed still. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He was making no attempt to even look at Aizawa or Nedzu.
“Problem Child.” Aizawa prompted, leaning closer. Taking a shuddery breath, Midoriya kept his face turned down. “You’re not here to be punished. We just want some answers.”
Midoriya took another breath. This one seemed more like he was steeling himself. Carefully, Shinsou studied his face. At his side, Aizawa kept his grip on the capture weapon tied around Midoriya (it had been the only way to get him into the office).
He really does look awful. Well, that was a bit of an understatement. He had heard that Midoriya was looking ill. This wasn’t ill. This was worse. The dark circles sitting under his eyes, the tension wrought through him like a coiled spring, the way his face had gone paler with every passing day—he looked like some of the homeless people Shinsou and Aizawa passed food to on the regular. The ones who had nowhere to go, who had been abandoned because of their lack of a Quirk, who had faced abuse for their villainous Quirks. He’d helped pry muzzles from teenagers’ faces before, and yet the way that Midoriya looked now was equally as sickening.
Which was weird. This was 1-A’s Golden Child. He had everything. He had a loving mother, a perfect group of friends, a perfect Quirk, a perfect life. He had everything that Shinsou could have wanted growing up and then some.
“Midoriya. Izuku.” Aizawa began. “If your mother left you—”
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
Lightning flashed in Midoriya’s eyes, the green glowing more vibrantly like the world’s first green stars. Chest heaving, he lifted his head. His hands tightened their grip on his pants. Suddenly, Shinsou got the feeling Midoriya was letting the capture weapon stay. “Kid. We’re trying to help you. Evidence shows that Midoriya Inko has not been in her house for a few months now, but the bills are still being paid. It happened after a break-in and a fight. Did she leave you?”
Midoriya scowled at Aizawa. “She would never leave me.”
“But she did, Izuku. She’s not even in Japan. From what we know, she’s in America. Presumably, she’s with your father.” Shoulders relaxing, Midoriya slumped a little bit. He let out a soft sigh. Relief flooded his face. “What happened? Why would she leave?”
“I didn’t give her a choice.”
Their home was destroyed.
Cradling a broken photo frame in her hands, Inko looked around the house. The windows were shattered. Her hands shook as she clutched the photo frame in her hands. There were words spray-painted on their walls. What she really hoped wasn’t blood spattered sections of the wall as well. Her heart was pounding in her throat. She could feel a lump forming in her throat as well, a tightening that might have been tears or anxiety.
Izuku came back from his room. “How’s—do they have your notebooks?” Yes, she knew about the notebooks. Of course she did. Her and Hisashi’s Quirks were the first ones that Izuku had studied that wasn’t Katsuki’s. She had been the one to teach him how to make a code, had been the one to help him figure out the key for it. She hadn’t seen them in years. Still, she knew it was—
“They’re fine. I have them at Yuuei now, anyways.” Izuku sighed. Running a hand through his curls, tangling his fingers in his hair, he tugged gently. Setting the photo frame to the side, Inko walked over to him. She reached up. Her fingers brushed his cheek.
Izuku pulled away.
Looking at him, Inko softly asked, “How much damage was there?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Izuku said. “They attacked because of me.”
“Izuku, honey, I’m sure—” His mouth twisted. She stopped talking. Reaching into his pocket, Izuku yanked out a crumpled piece of paper and then held it out. Glancing at his face, the dark look that didn’t belong there, Inko took the paper from him. As she smoothed it out, she could see the threats outlined there. Izuku’s name was there. Multiple times. So was his hero name, Deku, and…her own name.
“You need to leave.” Izuku whispered. Freezing, Inko looked up at him.
“What?” Don’t say that. Tell me I misheard that. Looking up, Izuku wiped his face with the back of his hand. There were tears welling in the corners of his eyes. His nose and cheeks were beginning to turn reddish.
Squaring his shoulders, lifting his chin, Izuku repeated himself. “You need. To leave.” There was another pause. She stared at him. “They’re after me and they’re willing to use you to do that. You need to leave.”
“I am your mother. I am not abandoning you so you can—so you can let yourself get hurt because of them!” She burst out. Stepping forward, she reached for Izuku’s arm. He stepped away again. Some of that green lightning flickered over his skin, like a warning. Before even a full heartbeat had passed, it had stopped. He glanced at his arm in shock, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing. Then, he turned to her.
He wasn’t just angry. She had seen Izuku angry before. Of course she had—she was his mother. Despite raising him for sixteen years now, she had never seen his face like this.
“You need to leave.”
“Izuku, please—”
He stepped away when she tried to grab his arm. Something crossed his face. Eyes darting around the room like he was seeing it for the first time, Izuku swallowed. Finally, she managed to wrap a hand around his upper arm, pulling him closer to her. He let her, let her pull his arm to her and clutch his hand.
“No, wait. I—” He glanced towards his room. “I have to leave. You’re only in danger because of me.”
“I am not in danger because of you.” Inko said. Gently, Izuku pulled away from her. Back turned to her, he glanced around again. He held one of his hands to his chest. Already, he was murmuring about packing lists, what he would need, where he could stay on the weekends or if he needed to leave Yuuei. “Izuku, I’m not going to leave you.”
Turning around, he met her gaze. The tears were welling up. Cracking a weak smile, he replied, “Mom, I can’t let you get hurt because of me. I’m One for All’s successor. All for One is only after you because of me. I have to—I need to go—”
Inko stepped up to him. Reaching up to his face, she cupped his cheek. Izuku’s face crumpled. She wiped away one of the tears with her thumb, smearing it over his freckles. “I’m not letting you be homeless.”
Cracking his eyes open, Izuku looked at her, “And I can’t let you get hurt because of me.”
Looking at him, Inko held his gaze. “Your father and I have always loved you. We always will. We’ll always do what’s best for you.” Reaching out, Inko settled her other hand on his other cheek. Then, leaning up, she kissed his forehead. Izuku leaned down to let her do that. “I’ll take care of the apartment and everything else. For now, we’re taking you back to Yuuei. Okay? Just let me go and get my bag.”
“Alright.” Izuku whispered.
Holding him still, she held his gaze. “Don’t—go—anywhere, Izuku. I’ll be back in a second.”
Swallowing, Izuku nodded. Inko hurried to her room. There was a go bag under her bed. It had been there for years—Hisashi had advised her on it, she had one for Izuku, too. He had no idea about it. She occasionally checked his clothes for measurements to make sure she had the right sizes.
Grabbing her back, she pulled it and Izuku’s out. Quickly, she checked for the wallets. Both of them had about two months’ worth of money in their bags. Somewhere in the house, Izuku opened the window.
Throwing the bags over her shoulders, Inko straightened up. She shifted the weight. I wonder if he’s throwing something out. But—
No.
“Izuku?!” She called, turning. Dropping the go bags, they would only weigh her down, Inko bolted into the main room. “Izuku!”
He hadn’t gone to his room. He wasn’t in the bathroom, or the kitchen, or the dining room, or—
No. No, no—running over to the open window, Inko stuck her head out. She glanced around. It wasn’t even a hot day, she should have thought about it, and—
“Izuku!” She screamed, glancing around. Chest heaving, clutching the necklace around her throat, Inko leaned as far out the window as she dared. She couldn’t see him darting between the buildings. She couldn’t see any of the green lightning, any of the signs of him. A sob wracked her shoulders. Shoving herself back, Inko turned, went to kick off her house slippers and find her shoes—
Izuku’s shoes were gone from where they usually were. The two of them hadn’t even realized that their apartment had been broken into until after they’d taken off their shoes and put on their slippers. Izuku had already told her that he thought he was the problem. He had already been thinking about leaving. When she was in her room, grabbing the go bags, he must have thought—he took the chance. I should have thought about it. I should have made him come with me and explained things. I should have—I can’t—
Slapping a hand over her mouth, Inko tried to catch herself on the closest drawer. It didn’t work. The drawer came loose, and utensils scattered over the floor. They crashed loudly. Cupping her hands over her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut. No, no. Get up. Don’t cry. She gasped in a ragged breath. A cracking sound left her. Stop crying, Inko. You can cry later, but you need to get up. You need to go and find Izuku, you need to find your baby. You need to move.
There was some frantic knocking on her door, then a shaky call, “Mrs. Midoriya? Are you okay?” Their landlord called. A moment passed. Then, “I’m going to come in, Mrs. Midoriya.”
Ms. Akiyama came into the door. Shoulders shaking, Inko raised her head. The woman standing in front of her paused, catlike ears twitching and then pinning back to the sides of her head. Her claws were unsheathed. Swallowing, sheathing her claws, Ms. Akiyama made her way to Inko’s side and knelt down by her. Silvery-blue and gold eyes held Inko’s own. Ms. Akiyama’s nose twitched, mouth open as she scented the air.
“I smell—paint? But no blood. What happened, Mrs. Midoriya?” She asked, holding Inko’s shoulders. Eyes darting over Inko’s face, she dropped her voice and whispered, “did something happen to Izuku?”
“There—someone broke in. I’m sorry, I—” Face softening, Akiyama pulled Inko into a hug. Soft fur brushed Inko’s face, and she buried her nose in the woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“Ssh, it’s alright. It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.” Akiyama murmured.
Inko sobbed.
“Where have you been staying, if you haven’t been in your house, then?”
Midoriya’s words repeated in Shinsou’s mind, rolling over and over in the silence that was left hanging between them all. “All for One sent people after me. They broke into our apartment, and I wasn’t going to let them hurt my mom. I had to choose between her and me. She went to get a bag from her room. I stayed on the roof until I knew she was gone, and then I left. I…found somewhere else.”
Midoryia shrugged. “Places. People like you wouldn’t know about them.”
“People like me?” Aizawa asked. Snorting, Shinsou glanced over.
“He probably means some country club or whatever.” Aizawa glanced at him. His eyes narrowed, he glanced at Midoriya.
“Are you the reason Ito Naia told me that there was a Yuuei student at the Fae Court?” Midoriya’s head whipped up so fast he probably got whiplash. Staring at Aizawa, he blinked a few times. “Yeah, I know about the Fae Court, kid.”
A beat passed.
Then, Midoriya quietly asked, “What’s the circle made of?”
“Inky caps and morels.” Shoulders relaxing, Midoriya sighed softly. Then, he shifted. “Why were you at the Fae Court, kid? You’re plenty strong.”
I don’t like the sound of this. Izuku glanced at Shinsou nervously. “I don’t—know if we’re meant to be spreading secrets.”
“Shinsou’s safe.” Shinsou glanced at Aizawa. I wouldn’t describe me as safe. More like that one Narnia character. The one that’s kind of Jesus’ fursona. His mentor glanced at him, eyes narrowed slightly, when Midoriya looked away. “I promise. I’ll vouch for him.”
Hands curling around the edge of the seat, Midoriya took another breath. “You have to keep this secret. It’s—I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this, and I definitely shouldn’t be telling Shinsou this, but—” He turned. “Nedzu?”
The stoat hopped off his seat. “I will go and ensure we have no company, Mr. Midoriya. Take all the time you need. I’ll make us tea—how does white peony sound? Brilliant, I’ll go put a kettle on!”
With that, Nedzu left. Swallowing, Midoriya watched the door close. He took a shaky breath, then turned to Aizawa—
“All for One is targeting me because I inherited his brother’s Quirk from All Might and I’m one of the only people who can defeat him, and I’ve been struggling to use it properly because I was Quirkless until, like, a few hours before the entrance exam.”
What? Shinsou stared at him. Apparently, Midoriya was not done. He kept on going.
“I went to the Fae Court because I’m not used to being allowed in most places. It doesn’t matter if most of the shelter staff are Quirkless-friendly, there are always people who are going to be—yeah. I’ve been beat up too many times not to be a little cautious. I’ve already been told to pray for a Quirk and jump off my middle school’s roof and I’ve been beat up for just existing, and also the Fae Court is something even All for One can’t possibly know about. I mean, even if he knows there are Quirkless communities, then he—yeah. He might not know that—I’m sorry. I can’t. I think I’m having a panic attack.”
Sure enough, Midoriya’s breathing had sped up. Coughing into his wrist, he turned his head away. His hands were shaking.
“I think I’m going to throw up.” Quickly, Shinsou went to grab the trashcan. Aizawa was unraveling his capture scarf. Again, Midoriya was coughing, panting and gagging. He pulled his knees to his chest, curling around himself. The coughing was more frantic. Shinsou grimaced as he passed the tiny trash can over.
Midoriya threw up a few coughs later, and…kind of violently.
Shinsou turned away, trying not to hurl himself. Behind him, Aizawa kept murmuring to Midoriya, brushing his curls back. Midoriya gasped raggedly. “It’s alright, it’s alright. Just let it happen.” Aizawa cautioned softly. Glancing around the office, Shinsou gritted his teeth.
A few minutes passed, and Shinsou was busy flipping through a doodled-on yearbook from Aizawa’s Yuuei years when Midoriya finally spoke again.
“All for One has no way of knowing that I’m Quirkless. Besides, the Fae Court protects its own. If All for One stepped inside one of their shelters—” Midoriya spat again. Turning around, Shinsou froze when he saw the burst capillaries around Midoriya’s eyes. He looked…zombie-ish, to be honest. “—then he would go down in history for dying to a Quirkless person. Not how he wants to be immortalized.”
Shoulders shaking, that determination still on his face, Midoriya looked up at Aizawa. “Alright, kid. I believe you.” A bit of shock flashed through Midoriya’s eyes. Then, “I wish you had told me earlier than this, though. It would have been good information to know, you might not have broken your bones as much.”
Midoriya glanced at Shinsou. Scoffing, Shinsou asked, “What, do you want an apology? For misreading you or whatever?”
“I don’t care if you want to apologize.” Midoriya bit out with a certain amount of venom. Green eyes dark, he looked at Aizawa. “And don’t go after my mother. The least you can give her is that. If you do—then I’ll leave Yuuei. The Fae Court will protect me before they listen to you.”
Aizawa watched him. Shinsou stared at whoever this cold, sharp person in front of him was. This wasn’t Midoriya. There was no possible way that this was Midoriya.
Except it was.
This was Midoriya, and there was no denying it, and Midoriya was very, very different than what Shinsou had thought.
Turning, Shinsou fled from the room (he felt Midoriya’s eyes burning into his back as he went).
Eventually, despite all of Shinsou’s best attempts to stay away from him, Midoriya managed to find him a few days later.
Arms crossed, Midoriya stared at him. Shinsou swallowed, staring back. The two of them were alone in the dorms’ courtyard. The sky was cloudy. Almost fitting to Shinsou’s mood, honestly. “Midoriya.” He greeted, softly.
Looking at him, Midoriya hummed. “Shinsou. You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I haven’t.” Shinsou denied instinctively. Looking at him, Midoriya just…stared at him. “What do you want? An apology?”
“No. I’m not interested in your apology—honestly, I’m tired of accepting apologies. I’m tired of forgiving people.” Sighing, Midoriya leaned against the wall behind him, arms crossed. “You’ve hurt my friends. I hope you’re aware of that. They’re kinder than I am, so they’re not going to bring it up, but—just realize that.”
Rolling his eyes, Shinsou looked away. A hand landed on his arm. Flinching, he turned to Midoriya.
“It took me too long to tell Mineta this—if you are not able to get along with your classmates, if you are not able to respect them, then why are you here?”
Letting go of him, Midoriya turned and stalked off. He paused at the door for a second. Then, he glanced back again.
“Just keep that in mind. You don’t know when you won’t have the chance to do otherwise.”
Izuku stood at the edge of the battlefield, hands shaking as he leaned against a broken railing.
The fight was done. It was over. Panting, shoulders trembling, Izuku stared out at the field. They had finished rescue efforts. The villains had been put away. Still, he was standing out on the closest thing to an overlook. His knees trembled. He wanted—
“Izuku!” His heart stuttered to a stop in his throat. Head whipping up, he turned.
A woman was running for him. Her face was smudged in dirt and soot. There were bruises on her hands and fingers. Her clothes were stained.
“Izuku!” She shouted again. One of the other heroes tried to stop her. Sidestepping them, she continued running for him.
Izuku shoved himself away from the railing he’d been clinging to and ran to her.
Arms wrapped around his neck, he almost went staggering to the floor. Catching himself, Izuku buried his face in her shoulder. “You’re okay—you’re okay, right? Were you hurt? Did you see the medics?” Stepping back, hands on his face, she looked him up and down. Green eyes flicked over his features. Fingers brushed his hair out of his face, lingered on his cheek where a new scar lay. “You were amazing, sweetie, but—oh, where did this come from? Who did this? Do I need to fight someone? Did Recovery Girl treat you, are your friends here? How are your friends—are they alright—do they need food—does anyone here need food—”
“Mom—Mom.” Burying his cheek in her palm, Izuku took a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut. She went quiet. A moment passed. Then, she leaned up and kissed his forehead. Don’t cry. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry—
He was crying.
“Izuku.” She whispered, brushing his hair back again. “Let’s go home.”
Sniffing, he nodded.