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Chapter Text

Hisashi Midoriya is the one thing he’d never dreamed he’d be — A father. Hisashi considered himself the main attraction of every party and the lifeblood of karaoke bars. From the time he entered university, he had romanticized the partying lifestyle and couldn’t fathom ever settling down. He took every opportunity he could to neglect his coursework in favor of flashing fluorescent lights and alcohol. Never giving a second thought to stabilize his future, he planned to be a party animal for as long as possible.

That philosophy, however, only lasted into his second year of university. Hungover and inebriated, Hisashi received a particularly frantic call in the early morning. During which, his world had flipped over and now spun on its axis. Or maybe that was just his vision. 

Now, nine months later, looking down at the baby in his arms and the sparse tufts of green that topped its head, Hisashi’s breath hitched and heaved. Words passed around him in an inaudible blur and the hospital room faded into non-existence, but the crying figure in his arms remained, every detail getting itched into the core of Hisashi’s memory. Droplets began to fall onto the angelic face of the boy, and it was only after a weak nudge from Inko Akatani that Hisashi realized he had begun crying. He glanced up to the woman who birthed his son, and his breath hitched once again. With matted hair, tear stains on her cheeks, and a hideous hospital gown, Hisashi had never seen a more perfect woman. The small smile she gave him short-circuited his brain as she gingerly took the baby, her fingers softly grazing his own in the process.

Minutes must have passed when Hisashi’s stupor finally broke. His gaze fixated on the woman and the baby; their resemblance was already uncanny, and the boy hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. With a lopsided smile, Hisashi leaned over to the hospital bed and took Inko’s hand. Her tired green eyes shifted to his. Hisashi had never felt more sober. “Inko Akatani, will you marry me?”

Hisashi was NOT having a panic attack. That was Inko’s thing, not his. He was supposed to be the calm one of the family, not the bumbling mess he currently was. Inko was in Izuku’s room, consoling the sobbing and screaming child. Today was not something he had been prepared for as a father — his son was quirkless. Hisashi looked down at his shaky hands as he reached for the glass of water sitting on the cold, speckled marble of the kitchen counter, wishing he hadn’t sworn off alcohol. Emotions filled his heart and then were quickly whisked away and replaced with new ones every half second. But one emotion kept circling back, each time more powerful than the last — fear.   He knew just how rare quirkless children were nowadays. He also knew exactly how they were viewed and treated by society. How there was no way for his green bundle of joy’s dream to be fulfilled. Izuku was the kindest boy in the world and had a heart of pure gold. He wished to become a hero like All Might, more than he wanted to breathe. Hisashi didn’t know how Izuku would function in the world with his main dream crushed — that realization scared him immensely. How was he supposed to handle the delicate mind of a four-year-old who just got his entire future crushed? They didn’t exactly make parenting books for this. 

Hisashi also felt immense pangs of guilt. He should have been there at the hospital with his wife and son when the doctor diagnosed him as quirkless. He should be able to console his wailing son in the other room. He should have had stronger genetics. 

Swallowing hard on the non-existent moisture in his mouth, he stood shakily from the barstool and made his way over to his son’s room. When he opened the door to the room, the only illumination came from a paused video of All Might. A clip Hisashi immediately recognized. It was Izuku’s favorite and was replayed daily. His son was sobbing and shaking violently in the arms of Inko. Hisashi slowly inched his way closer to them, trying to model what he should say in his mind, but drawing nothing. His mind was grasping at straws. His only hope now was that the improv class he had taken in college would guide his words. As Hisashi wrapped his arms around both Inko and Izuku, he opened his mouth to start comforting his son, but was cut off by the gravelly voice of a toddler. “Will I be able to be a hero, dad?”. 

Hisashi’s already dry mouth suddenly became a desert. Hisashi’s grip on his son tightened as he took a deep breath and internally cursed his situation. He could feel Inko’s eyes boring into the side of his head. “Izuku, you are the sweetest, smartest child I have ever met. You always think of others before yourself and always push yourself to go Plus Ultra in helping them. You already have the heart of a true hero. Heroes aren’t only the ones you see on television with big muscles and flashy quirks; They are also the ones who just help in any way they can to make people better. You and your mom are my heroes, more so than All Might has ever been. Without you two, I don’t know where I would be in my life. I wouldn’t be nearly as happy as I am today.” 

Hisashi turned his head slightly to Inko to gauge her judgment on his speech. From the look in her teary eyes, it seemed like he hadn’t completely ruined everything. Hisashi smiled, thinking he had done good, only to be surprised when Izuku began shaking in his arms again as the tears became full rivers. Shit. Izuku between heaves cried, “Can I - Can I become a hero?” 

Hisashi’s face contorted into something resembling a wince. He needed to think of something fast.  “Izuku. Please, calm down for me.” 

Izuku only began to sob harder. Hisashi’s mind blanked, and a glance at Inko made it clear she wouldn’t be able to help either. “Izuku. I know that you are smart enough to know how dangerous it is to be a hero without a quirk… I don’t even know if it has been done before… But I also know that if there is anyone smart enough to figure out how to do it, it would be you. You’re always interested in how quirks work and picking apart pro hero’s quirks, I’m sure if you keep using that skill you’ll go far. Even if it isn’t as a hero, your brains would be invaluable in the support industry.” 

Izuku’s sobs died down, but the wetness on Hisashi’s shoulder told him that the tears hadn’t stopped yet, “You could become like daddy; become a quirk specialist and engineer equipment for pro heroes to use. That way, you can become a hero to the heroes!” 

Izuku still cried, but had since controlled his breathing, “You - you think I can still be a hero?” 

The question came out more as a statement than a question, but Hisashi began to understand what his son needed to hear. “I think you can do whatever you put that bright mind of yours to. It won’t be easy, and I can’t guarantee you will become a hero — I couldn’t guarantee that even if you had a quirk. But I do know one thing, Izuku. I’ll be here for you no matter what. Always.” 

Izuku laughed uncontrollably as Hisashi blew a power blaze of viridian-tinged flames into the air of the Midoriya’s backyard. Hisashi felt proud knowing his son thought that his quirk was amazing. Looking down at the boy, Hisashi couldn’t feel more elated. With a mop of dark green, his son was jumping up and down, swatting at the smoke in the air. On his head, Hisashi had adorned a conic party hat, but it was now tilted, giving him the appearance of a unicorn. Hisashi raced over to his son and picked him up by the shoulders and whirled him around in circles. Izuku’s feet flung outwards from the momentum as Hisashi exclaimed, “I can’t believe my little boy has grown so big! You’re 8 already! Feels like yesterday you were just a baby.” 

Hisashi slowed the whirling into a crushing bear hug. Izuku, red-faced, but smiling, wiggled in his grip, “Dad! Let me go! It’s embarrassing!” 

This got a chuckle out of the nearby Masaru Bakugo. Hisashi relented and gently lowered his son back to the ground. Izuku ran away from him in the direction of Katsuki Bakugo. 

Hisashi walked over to Masaru, who was manning a small barbecue grill. Hisashi groaned and complained to his university roommate, “He’s growing up too fast, Masaru.” 

Masaru glanced up from the steaming meat, “Don’t I know it. Little Katsuki also isn’t so small anymore either. That little firecracker is the spitting image of his mother. Both physically and mentally.” 

Hisashi looked over to the blonde child across the yard, speaking passionately to Izuku with sparks flying from his palms, “He really is. Izuku isn’t too different from Inko.” Hisashi gestures towards his hair, “He definitely doesn’t take after my genetics.” 

Masaru laughs before his smile falters. Masaru stares at the flames of the grill, remembering the time Hisashi had tried to grill meat with his quirk and left it singed and tasting of chemicals. The memory prompts Masaru to play with some of the meat with a metallic spatula, “How is he doing with that, anyway?” How are you doing? I hear things every now and again from Katsuki, but it's better to hear it from the source.” 

Hisashi sighed and reached up to the party hat on his head, removing it completely. There was a moment of silence between the two before Hisashi said, “It’s not easy. He’s a strong kid. Smart as hell, too. He’ll be way smarter than I am. He doesn’t talk about it much, but we can see it occasionally. The sadness. He’s struggling, but we don’t know how to help him. We’ve taken him to several therapists, but nothing seems to help because he just clams up and refuses to tell them anything.” 

Hisashi shuts his eyes tight and rubs the bridge of his nose, “He’s a genius with quirk analysis. He claims he wants to be like me and become a quirk specialist, but it's clearly just something he says to calm down Inko. When he sees a hero in action, he can’t help himself from jotting down whatever comes to mind in one of his notebooks. Sometimes I can glimpse at what he’s writing, and it’s written in a way that suggests he wants to use aspects of each hero to become one himself. I have no doubt in my mind that he can figure something out if he really wants to become a hero, but I’m worried he’s only setting himself up for failure when the real world gets to him.”

Hisashi looks back over to Masaru, “Does that make me an asshole? To have utter faith in my kid, but also have serious concerns about his future?” 

Masaru burrows his eyebrows and frowns slightly, “No. That makes you a good dad. Your son trying to become a hero is a tall task. One that has never been done before. Your worrying proves that you care for the kid.” 

Masaru pauses to hand Hisashi a plate of steaming meat fresh off of the grill, “The world won’t be nice to him, it’s the sad truth. Quirkless people are extremely rare, and they are also one of the most discriminated groups of people next to heteromorphs. The best thing we as fathers can do is to have faith that everything will work out for our sons and to help them along the way.”

Masaru stops and stands with his hands full of sizzling food, and stands shoulder to shoulder with Hisashi. Masaru gestures to Katsuki, who is now sending small explosions into the air while a sunken Izuku watches nearby, “My Katsuki, he has a great quirk for heroics. But that's not all there is to being a hero. At times, his temperament worries me. He can be arrogant, rash, and overly aggressive. Those aren’t very heroic traits, and they’re something that he’ll have to figure out soon enough. I have faith that he can, but I still worry about his future. It’s only natural for us to worry about them. Izuku and Katsuki are like two sides of the same coin. Izuku has the personality and Katsuki has the power. If they stick together, I’m sure they’ll be just fine.” 

Hisashi smiled at that, “Thanks, Masaru. How’d you get so good with words?” 

Masaru began walking towards the table the two families had set up in the backyard, “I took two more classes of improv than you, remember?” The two fathers laughed loudly, which caught the attention of everyone in the yard before Masaru announced, “Food is ready, come get it while it’s hot!”

Hisashi hated looks of pity, but he hated looks of false pity even more. Here he was, sitting in Central Hospital as a doctor accused him of smoking abuse, all the while having a fake frown on his face and with a fake somber tone of voice. Hisashi hadn’t smoked in almost a decade. “Doctor, I’ve told you this several times now. I haven’t smoked in almost ten years, there’s no way the problem with my lungs is because of smoking. Some smoke inhalation from my quirk I would understand, but I don’t use it nearly enough to resemble a chronic smoker. It doesn’t make sense.” 

The doctor just eyed him softly, “I don’t know what to say, Mr. Midoriya. From all your symptoms, the closest thing I can diagnose you with is smoker’s lung. I can run another blood test, but I highly doubt it would come up with anything different from what we’ve already seen.” 

He gritted his teeth and accepted that this doctor wasn’t going to be of any help and said, “Fine. Thank you, Doctor” before bowing and leaving. 

“And he just stood there, telling me that I must be a chronic smoker! It was ridiculous!”, Hisashi exclaimed to his wife. 

Inko had a small smile on her face, but her eyebrows were taut with worry. This wasn’t the first time Hisashi had to see a doctor, but it was the first time a doctor actually had a guess as to what was happening to him. It had started gradually, but Hisashi’s health was getting worse. Inko softly ran her hand along his arm, “Honey, I’m sure he was just doing his best. Even if he could’ve been nicer about it.” 

Inko’s hand reached Hisashi’s, and she curled her fingers around his, “Besides, this time at least the doctor had an idea as to what could be going on. Even if he’s wrong, it gives us a starting point.” With her free hand, Inko poked Hisashi in the ribs, “You haven’t been throwing any barbecue parties behind my back, have you?”

Hisashi sighed, the anger melting away at his wife’s joke, “No. Can’t say I’ve had any takers on my chemically steak.” 

To this, Inko releases his hand and wraps her arms around his neck, sinking into an embrace, “Whatever you say Sashi. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.” 

Slumped entangled to each other on the couch is where they remained until Izuku came home from school. 

“Inko. It’ll be alright” 

Inko eyed her husband through teary eyes incredulously, “Alright? What exactly about this is alright?” 

Inko frantically waved her hands through the air in a wide arc, her fingers almost slapping the IV stand next to her husband’s hospital bed, “This? This is not alright. I am not alright and you are not alright. The doctor just told you that you have less than a year to live, and you say to me that ‘It’ll be alright’? You’re a fucking asshole if that’s what you think!” 

Through sobs, Inko wipes her eyes, “What am I supposed to do? What is Izuku going to do? You’re his father, Hisashi, and if it wasn’t for All Might, you’d be his entire world! He’s going to be devastated. I fear with everything else going on in his life, he’ll never recover.”

Hisashi had his eyes locked on a tear that traced his wife’s cheek. His gaze followed it as it made its way out and around Inko’s cheek and down the side of her mouth. It then hung onto the side of her chin with everything it had before the torrent of other droplets pushed it over the edge, dooming it to fall to her lap. What could he say in this situation? Nothing he said could change reality. His words here were ultimately meaningless against the cruelty of the world. Just a year ago he was the picture of health, so how did everything devolve so quickly? Hisashi had no answers. The countless doctors had no answers. It was as if the universe was playing a sadistic prank on him. 

The rational side of him contemplated if his quirk had something to do with it, but even then, Hisashi hadn’t used his quirk in almost a year to test that theory, and things had still only gotten worse. Not to mention how rare self-inflicted quirk deaths are. It has been statistically proven several times that with each generation, the likelihood of a quirk developing halfway and not providing the user with protection from itself dropped dramatically. In modern times, it is practically unheard of. 

Time seemed to stop for Hisashi as he stared at his wife — the rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside him fading to a dull background hum and the harsh lights of the room dimmed. While the world around him faded into insignificance, a spotlight remained on Inko. Her coarse hair was tied up in a messy bun that was threatening to fall apart any second, her UA memorabilia sweatshirt had faded into a depressive gray, and her eyes had begun to sprout bags and Crow’s feet. Hisashi knew she hadn’t been handling his declining health well, but even as the disgruntled figure before him, Hisashi was convinced he was blessed in the presence of perfection. 

A particularly violent sob from Inko broke him out of his daze and he responded softly, “Inko… I- I am a very lucky man. I have the most gorgeous woman on the planet as my wife and the most precious little green bean as my son. It hurts to know that I don’t have much longer with the both of you, but I wouldn’t have traded the last ten years for anything. I know the next year will be awful for our family, but I have faith that someday in the future, you and Izuku will be able to live as a whole again. I have faith that with time, everything will be alright.”

Hisashi had a slow stream of tears running down his face now. He took a steady breath and peeled Inko’s hand from her face, gently caressing it and interlocking his fingers with hers. “Once I get discharged from here, I think we will have to begin taking steps toward securing the future for you and Izuku. I will speak with my boss and the insurance company to see what options we have, but I doubt it would be enough to last very long. I know I promised when we got married that I’d always take care of you, but you’re most likely going to need a job to support Izuku.”

Hisashi hesitated before continuing, “Izu-Izuku is not going to react well to this. He’s a tough kid, but his heart is made of butter. I’ll tell him the details when the time is right, but for now, I just want to focus on spending as much time as I can with him. I’ll teach him everything I know about quirk analysis so that he has a leg to stand on when I- When I’m gone.” 

Inko dug her face into Hisashi’s chest as she wrapped him in an embrace. She clung to him with every muscle she had as if she let go now, Hisashi would cease to exist at this moment. “How are you like this? You’re the one dying and all you can think about is me and our baby. You should feel, I don’t know, angry? Upset? Depressed even? But here you are preaching about how lucky you are. This isn’t luck Sashi.”

Hisashi held her close as he rested his hand on the back of her head, “I am lucky, Inko. I’m lucky enough to have spent the last decade with you. And I am angry, I am upset. My future is being taken away from me. But I also know that my love for my family outweighs those emotions by a landslide.” Hisashi pauses for a moment to steady his haggard breaths, “I will do whatever I can to make sure that you and Izuku will continue to live happily. That is a promise.”

Hisashi thought he could handle this. He had been mentally preparing himself for the past few months for this, but he thought he had more time. He thought that he’d at least know what to say. He thought he had been stronger than this. 

Peering into the glistening emerald orbs of his son, he could do nothing but limply lay back in the hospital bed. Tubes running into his arms prevented him from moving, and his respirator distorted his hoarse voice. This is not how Hisashi wanted his son to see him for this talk. Inko stood behind Izuku, staring steadfastly at a spot on the wall, as if she’d rather watch the paint dry. Hisashi couldn’t blame her. With a staggeringly difficult breath, Hisashi started, “Izuku, are you doing ok buddy? Are Aunty Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru taking good care of you?”

One of Izuku’s hands tugged on Hisashi’s, “Dad, why are you here, and why do you have all of these tube things going into you? You aren’t super sick, right? I thought you said it was just a bad cold.” 

Hisashi’s face turned grim as he weakly held onto his son’s pointer finger. That HAD been what he and Inko told him months ago while they tried to sort everything out, but clearly, Izuku was too smart to buy into it now that he’d seen Hisashi like this. Hisashi had been admitted to the hospital three weeks ago after he had thrown up blood and Inko adamantly refused to leave his side the entire time, leaving Izuku out of the loop and stuck at the Bakugo’s household. Hisashi knew his time was quickly approaching and this was likely one of the last times he could speak with his son at length, “Izuku, my little green bean. You’re too smart for your own good, huh? Dad isn’t doing so well, kiddo. That cold we talked about got a lot worse. I’m not feeling very well and as you can see, I’m not very lively at the moment.” 

Hisashi almost laughed at his own morbid joke. 

Izuku’s glistening eyes quickly became slow droplets, “What are you saying, Dad? You’re not- no. You’re not dying, right, Dad?” 

Hisashi’s eyebrows furrowed as his own eyes began watering. Emotions rose from the depths of his stomach and threatened to bring bile with them. His throat refused to let any sounds escape, but finally, Hisashi willed himself to respond, “Izuku. I need you to be strong for me”

Inko’s grip on Izuku’s shoulders tightened as the dam holding back Izuku’s tears broke open, “Dad-”

“Izuku. I need you to be strong for me. I need you to be strong for Mom. Can you do that for me? Can you be a little trooper right now?”

Although Izuku’s face was a mess of snot and tears, the boy attempted to stand as straight as possible and to get his breathing under control. It was a losing battle, but he could at least keep himself from completely falling apart at the seams. With his free hand balled into a clenched fist and his eyes shut tight, Izuku shakily nodded. 

The sound of sniffles filled the room and overshadowed the low hum of machinery as Hisashi slowly said, “Izuku. I’m afraid our time together is coming to an end. You’re too smart of a kid to hide this from, and sugarcoating it won’t do anything. I’m dying. I’ve known for almost a year. That's why Dad hasn’t been going to work. I’ve wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. I-” 

The emotions choked Hisashi as the words he had practiced over the past several months now seemed like faint memories he couldn’t remember, “I wanted to teach you everything I could. I wanted to give you every last bit of myself that I could so that you could grow into the young man I know you can be.” Hisashi blinked tears out of his eyes, “Izuku. Do you still want to be a hero?” 

Izuku tugged the bottom of his shirt up to his eyes and wiped them the best he could, but no matter how much he wiped, the cloth only became more drenched. Izuku let go of his shirt and let it fall back down into place before nodding frantically. Numerous sobs broke through his lips every time he opened his mouth to respond to his father. 

Hisashi weakly smiled, “I’m glad. I tried my best to tell you everything I could about quirk theory in the past year, but a lot of the concepts are just too much for a 9-year-old. So, I created notebooks describing everything I’ve discovered since I began college. I’ve also left you with my old textbooks and work materials. Hopefully one day, you’ll be able to use them and become the best hero you can be. If not a flashy hero like All Might, then a hero for the heroes. I have full faith that you can do whatever you put your brilliant little mind to.” 

Izuku’s nails had now dug so deep into his free hand’s palm that he caused himself to bleed slightly. The pain dulled the ache inside his chest, but not nearly enough. Hisashi still gripped his other hand as he continued speaking, “I love you Izuku and I wouldn’t have changed a single thing in my entire life if it meant not having you. You are my hero Izuku, and even if it hurts right now, I know that you will do great things with your life. Izuku. Can you look at me?” 

Izuku looked into his father’s eyes and only saw a dull flame of life behind them, and fought the urge to look away. This wasn’t the lively father he had grown up with. This was a desperate man pleading with his son to listen to him as if it would be their last conversation. Whatever strength Izuku had held onto quickly dissipated into the tears streaming down his face. His sobs grew uncontrollably, but he still met Hisashi’s eyes. 

Hisashi softly spoke, “Izuku. You have to be strong. I need you to be strong like All Might. I need you to be my hero. I need you to be Mom’s hero. I need you to take care of her. Can you do that for me? Can you be the hero I know you can be?”

Izuku opened his mouth, “Dad, I don’t-”

Hisashi hardened his voice, but still held an undertone of compassion, “Izuku, can you be my hero?”

Izuku let go of Hisashi’s hand, covered his drenched eyes with his arms, and pulled at his hair with his hands. Shaking violently against Inko and hardly keeping himself together, Izuku choked on his mucus before letting out as loud and as confident of a response as he could manage, “Uh huh. I’ll keep Mom safe!”

Hisashi smiled before also breaking into a sobbing mess, his erratic breathing alerting the nurse.

Inko stared at the documents in her hands. Her mind was numb as the printed words barely managed to reach her brain. 

Hisashi Midoriya; Autopsy Report

There was no doubt in her mind of what she was going to find in this report and the thought of it was sickening. Tears that hadn’t been able to fall for the past several weeks were now puddling on the table beneath her. Some part of her still believed that her husband was alive. He was simply staying overseas for his job, but he’d be back soon. 

Looking down at the packet below her, however, the reality finally began to set in. He was gone. Her light in the dark had gone out, never to turn back on again. Her rock and the other half of her being was gone. She had known it was going to end like this for the past year, but no amount of time could have prepared her for how hollow she now felt. 

Part of that hollow feeling was the fact that if those stupid doctors all those years ago hadn’t immediately assumed Hisashi was a hopeless smoker, then maybe he’d still be here with her. Before Hisashi had passed, he had done his own research into his symptoms and created a theory for what was happening. It was a quirk death. His quirk turned against him and poisoned him from the inside out. Before he could figure out what exactly it was, however, his body rejected itself entirely. His entire nervous system seemed to have become the enemy.

Inko felt the heat of anger rise through her throat. It collided with the sorrow that was already at the forefront of her mind, and it made her want to puke, but also simultaneously urged her to read through the file. The file that cemented the fact that her husband, the father to her child, and the love of her life, Hisashi Midoriya, was dead.

The kitchen was lit by a single dim light hanging from the ceiling. A half-empty bottle of wine sat next to the distressed widow, and the sink was full of dishes that had accumulated over the past two weeks — since the last time Mitsuki had come over to help tidy up. The once tidy room had fallen into disarray. Izuku’s homework papers were left cluttered and unfinished. The room was silent except for the periodic ruffling of papers as Inko poured over the files the local coroner had provided her.

Inko made a mental note to thank Mitsuki for suggesting that she request this autopsy report. Inko was in no state of mind at the time to even contemplate thinking of such a thing, but looking down at this report, Inko was grateful. Her husband was the smartest man she had ever met, and it was being proven right here. The pages were full of horrific details about the nervous system failure Hisashi had suffered. It was indeed caused by his quirk, but not like the doctors had suspected and written off. Smoke was not related to his health decline at all. It was the fire-resistant substance that lined Hisashi’s guts.

Inko was no biologist, but her understanding of the situation caused a weight to develop in the pit of her stomach. Hisashi’s quirk, Fire Breath, allowed him to spew green flames from his mouth. That flame originated from within his body, unlike a majority of fire quirks today that emit flames from the air around the user. Endeavor, for example, always seemed to emit his Hellflame from outside his body. Perhaps he could ignite the flames inside his body, but the flame would not directly originate from inside him. 

Hisashi’s internal fire quirk required his body to be able to withstand the intense heat of his flames. His quirk created a liquid compound closely related to a form of Barium Ferrate (BaFeO 4 ). The substance relied heavily upon the barium in his system, which caused the green color of his flames — much like how fireworks use barium for green explosions. The iron and oxygen appeared to supply both protection from the flames and the necessary components to ignite the flames. Other trace chemicals were present in this substance, but they are believed to have subtler effects that could not be determined. Hisashi’s illness arose when the Barium Ferrate-like substance began to decompose due to an unknown stimulant. The substance began converting into a compound similar to Barium Hydroxide (Ba(OH) 2 ) and is believed to be highly toxic. Once enough of this toxic material was created, Hisashi’s nervous system began breaking down. This caused the body to react out of confusion, creating a substance close to Barium Chloride (BaCl), another harmful chemical compound that seemed to create an exponential decline in Hisashi's health. Once enough of the harmful substances had been created, Hisashi Midoriya went into cardiac arrest and passed away not too long after. 

By the time Inko had finished reading the autopsy report, her bottle of wine was empty, and the morning sun had begun to make its presence known. The tears had long since dried up, but her sorrow still weighed heavy on her shoulders. It was cathartic in a way, knowing the cause of her husband’s demise, but her heart still stung with more emotions than she could count. Hurt, from the universe that plagued Hisashi with an unstable quirk. Guilt, for not doing more for him as his own body betrayed him. Anger, because of the doctors’ inability to help. Sorrow, for not spending every waking moment she had over the past decade with him. Among other emotions, however, was one she had never felt about this subject before; relief. Relief that her son was quirkless. Relief that there was no possibility for her baby to be taken from her early, as Hisashi had. 

Inko also had made up her mind on another topic. Her son did not have his father’s quirk. This information would only confuse or upset her quirk-obsessed child. 

“No,” she whispered to herself, “Izuku does not need to be burdened with this information.”

Chapter Text

Izuku’s fingers felt like falling off. With a shaky step forward, the three boxes he had been carrying wobbled, threatening to topple at the slightest disturbance. Perhaps it was a bit more weight than he could handle, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he entered his new room clouded his judgment. Getting these boxes to the right apartment had been a trek he was ill-equipped for, and the stairs had only delayed the process, but he was determined. After all, inside the boxes were his most prized possessions, his All Might memorabilia collection. These items had to be unpacked first — they were his centerpieces. Every square inch of his room had to be covered as effectively as possible with hero merchandise, ensuring his room reflected his determination to become a hero. He had to be strong, just like All Might. What better way to motivate himself than with the man he aspired to be?

Finally reaching the middle of the room, Izuku bent down to delicately drop the stack of boxes on the ground, but his tired fingers slipped out from under the largest box, sending them into free fall. The clash between the boxes and the wooden floor paneling climaxed with a thunderous bang. The sound ricocheted off the walls, prompting his mother's soft voice to call over to him from the other room, “Izuku, is everything ok in there?”

Izuku scrunched his eyes, “Yeah Mom, just dropped something. It's fine though.” 

Izuku looked down at the boxes below him. They didn’t appear to be damaged, and the two larger boxes landed upright. The smallest of the boxes was flung a small distance away, but nothing delicate was in that one, so Izuku didn’t worry about it. Looking up, Izuku got his first non-obstructed view of the room. It was rectangular and spacey, but still smaller than his old room. There was a window along the opposite wall from the door, where he could see the silhouette of downtown Musutafu. ‘I wonder if I can see UA from here…’ Izuku shuffled along the wooden floorboards to the window and craned his neck to the right. ‘Yup. There it is.’ Compared to a majority of the buildings in Musutafu, the towers of UA stood tall and powerful. It was a symbol of peace in its own way. The four towers represented the four pillars of hero society, and the sky bridges connected them resembled the unity between them. It really was an architectural marvel, not to mention all the satellite buildings on campus. ‘It’s probably only possible to have such a large structure because of Cementoss. If All Might was the Symbol of Peace, then Cementoss had to be the Backbone of Hero Society, with how much of Japan’s infrastructure is tied to his work.’ 

Izuku lost himself in the thoughts of the heroes that the school had produced before he heard a knock on the door behind him and quickly whipped his head around. Inko stood in the doorway, with a small box under her arm. The three years after Hisashi’s death had not been kind to her. Although she always presented herself with a smile, the bags under her eyes were now permanent features and the Crow’s feet had grown in severity. She also had begun gaining weight after Hisashi’s death as a result of an unhealthy coping mechanism. It hurt Izuku to see her this way, but if there was a way to save her from her depressive state, he hadn’t found it yet. A glance at her moving lips reminded him that she was saying something, and he focussed on her words, “-ou still have plenty of boxes in the truck downstairs. Try to bring up the smaller ones. Uncle Masaru is coming over in a bit to help out with the larger items, but you should grab what you can before he gets here. It would be rude to have him do everything for us.”

“Alright. Did you know you can see UA from my window? How cool is that?!” Izuku gushed excitedly as he speed-walked across the room to his mom before slipping by her and shooting down the stairs to where the moving truck was parked. Their apartment was on the second floor, thankfully, so going to and from wasn’t the most difficult thing in the world. There was an elevator on the interior of the apartment building, but their apartment was right next to an exterior flight of stairs, and it was much quicker to carry the smaller items up that. When Izuku got to the bottom of the stairs, his mind wandered back to what his mom had said. ‘So Uncle Masaru is coming over, huh? ’ 

Izuku hadn’t seen much of his ‘uncle’ in the past few years. He overheard a conversation a year or two ago between his mom and Uncle Masaru where Uncle Masaru claimed to see “more and more of Hisashi in Izuku every day,” and that it was painful to watch his best friend’s kid grow up without his father. Ever since, he hadn’t been coming around as often. ‘I just hope he doesn’t bring Kacchan,’ Izuku thought to himself as he picked out a couple of boxes from the truck. If there was one thing he didn’t need today, it was Kacchan’s fake kindness. It was a disguise that he adorned whenever either of their parents were around. It was one thing for Kacchan to beat him behind the school or in some random nearby alleyway, but to also come into his house and pretend that they were best friends was utterly detestable. 

The worst part of it all was that Izuku still respected him. Izuku wasn’t blind. Kacchan was an asshole, sure, but he was a powerful asshole. One that was a shoo-in to any hero academy in the country. Since they were kids, Izuku had started to take notes on Kacchan’s quirk. It was a nitroglycerin-like sweat that could produce substantial explosions, and as far as Izuku could tell, with enough training, there was no clear upper limit on the explosive potential. The only drawback to its explosivity was that its output was limited to the pores in Kacchan’s hands, which, in turn, limits the volume of substance that can be expelled at any given time. The greatest piece about the quirk, though, is that nitroglycerin is stable at room temperatures and only becomes explosive when exposed to great enough temperatures or pressures. That means that the substance that Kacchan creates can be stored and used in various aspects, making the quirk not only powerful but versatile. 

As dynamic as the quirk is, it could still be exploited. Nitroglycerin is a highly reactive compound that can create violent chemical reactions if exposed to elements like ozone or acids such as hydrochloric acid. If a villain had a quirk that could conjure various gasses, then there’s a possibility that they could manually ignite the substance, turning Kacchan’s greatest strength against him. Of course, Kacchan has increased resiliency to the blunt force trauma that explosions cause, so just utilizing the sweat at the surface of his skin would be a losing battle. If a villain got those gasses beneath his skin or into his blood, however, then the stability of the substance would be compromised and cause catastrophic damage to Kacchan from the inside-out, with a high likelihood of being lethal. 

Izuku shook himself back into the world of the living with that last morbid thought. Perhaps he had been reading too many of his dad’s research papers. Izuku immediately stopped that train of thought, ‘No. He left those to you to use. To become a hero. His knowledge of quirk analysis is his best and last gift to you. Don’t disrespect it.’ 

He carefully set down the two medium-sized boxes labeled ‘Dad’s Research’ next to the three boxes he had brought up previously. He stared at the two boxes for a moment before looking out the window to the skyline of Musutafu. As if guided by a higher power, he made his way back to the window and locked his eyes on the towers of UA. 

‘Dad. These last few years without you have been the most difficult of my life. Mom has spiraled without you, and I worry about her constantly. I try to help wherever I can, but there’s only so much I can do and I don’t know how to get her to her old self — if that is even possible. I’m watching after her, just like I promised, but I don’t know if I can truly help her. Not like you could. I hope you’re somewhere watching over her too. She needs you now more than ever.’

Izuku didn’t know when he started crying, but his view of UA was now distorted and blurry. The watery film over his eyes only got thicker as his mind wandered further, ‘Kacchan’s bullying died down when you died, but lately, it's been coming back worse than ever. More physical than ever. And the school never did anything about it, only praising him like he was a perfect angel, and I was just wasted space that deserved it. I imagine it will only get worse soon once I enter middle school at Alderra, but I’ll keep strong, just like you always told me to. Just like All Might. No matter what happens between me and Kacchan, I will find a way to get into UA and become the hero you always believed I could be. I miss you, Dad.’ 

He was dying. That's what this was. As if the universe didn’t get enough satisfaction from making him quirkless, it also wanted to entertain itself by giving Izuku the worst illness ever known to man before killing him. Izuku lay on his soaked bed comforter, staring up at the ceiling light, willing it to finally whisk him away and end his suffering. Besides the occasional flicker, the light did no such thing. Downcast and in pain, Izuku thought, ‘Damn. Still just a regular light. Not THE light. Guess you’ll have to wait a bit longer, Dad.’

Izuku struggled to sit himself up against his headboard. His sheets were a mess — drenched with sweat, tangled, and kicked to the edges of the mattress. He was certain that he had never felt hotter in his entire life. His body was burning as if someone was constantly taking a clothing iron to his skin. It had been like this for two days now. Any food he tried to eat would just be thrown up, and he swore the water he drank would just evaporate in his mouth. His mom was worried sick over him, but even she had other responsibilities than to force food down his throat. And if the blistering warmth he felt wasn’t enough, underneath his burning skin was the most excruciating pain Izuku had ever felt. His bones had to be breaking themselves over and over with the amount of pain he was feeling. It didn’t make any sense to him. There were no common illnesses that he knew of that caused fevers and body aches this bad. AND he was up-to-date on all of his vaccinations, so unless it was an odd strain, he doubted it was something common. His first thought was some form of cancer that had been dormant decided to wake up and wreak havoc, but his online searches didn’t seem to line up with any of the skin or bone cancers he had seen. 

‘It has to be a neurological disorder. The only explanation is that this pain isn’t physically real and that something is wrong with my brain, causing my pain sensors to go into overdrive. If that’s the case, I can’t exactly go to the hospital looking for relief. They wouldn’t have an immediate fix.’ Izuku squinted his eyes, ‘C’mon Izuku, think. If it was a neurological disorder, how would it be- ’

Izuku suddenly felt intensely nauseous. His eyes widened with a sense of recognition. If he didn’t get to the bathroom soon, he would end up adding vomit as an interior decoration. Quickly swinging his legs off the side of his bed, Izuku moved to get up. His legs screamed with pins and needles and moved like jelly, but agonizing step after agonizing step, Izuku made his way across the hallway to the small bathroom. He could hear the muffled yelp of his mother to his right, assumably from the living room, but he paid it no mind and quickly threw open the door. This occurrence had only become too common over the past few days, but it was never any easier. A sense of dread consumed his consciousness as he prepared himself for what was about to come. Izuku hastily closed the door to spare his mom from as many of the sounds as possible before positioning himself over the toilet. Now, staring at the water beneath him, Izuku willed the bile to come up his throat. ‘Just get it over with,’ he pleaded to himself. 

For a second, Izuku thought some gracious deity had taken pity on him. The tugging sensation vanished. Then like a geyser, it all came back, with a velocity Izuku knew wasn’t normal. ‘This isn’t right,’ was all the boy had time to think before his vision was blinded with light. 

In a split second, the bathroom went from dimly lit to blinding white, before it subsided to a vibrant viridian green. The warmth that had once contained itself to Izuku’s body now filled the room as a concussive blast of green flame erupted out of Izuku’s mouth. The reflective porcelain of the toilet fell in pieces to the tiled flooring below, where it bubbled and boiled. Confused and in an unimaginable amount of pain, Izuku tore the shower curtain to the side and turned the water on. He hoped to use the detachable shower head as a hose, but it was useless against the ceaseless jet of flames coming out of his mouth. ‘Still,’ he thought, ‘The shower is completely contained in tile and porcelain, which won’t burn like the wood. So if I focus the fire in here, it won’t spread as quickly.’ 

The pain from the flame was little more than a tingle to his mouth and skin, something that didn’t go unnoticed. Within a second of watching the flames growing around him in the confined room, he understood what was happening. This was his dad’s quirk. This is a quirk! He’s not useless! He’s not a ‘stupid Deku’! 

His celebration was cut short when the towel beside him began to catch fire. ‘The towels! That’s it! ’ Izuku thought before he grabbed all the towels off of their racks and used them to pat out the raging flames that struggled to make any headway against the tiled walls of the shower. Clamping his mouth shut, Izuku cut the source of the flames off, but it was only a momentary victory. The flames changed course inside of him and now spew from his nostrils. His shirt was quickly eviscerated by green. Although the fire wasn’t stopped entirely, the output was considerably smaller and much easier to direct. With every ounce of energy he could muster, he patted every flame within his reach and then sprayed the entire room using the detachable shower head. The previously smokeless fire had now developed a thick black cloud from the torched material of the towels, which finally triggered the overhead fire sprinkler, dousing the room completely. Relieved, Izuku sunk to the floor of the shower and tried to focus on his mother’s screams from the other side of the door, but the harder he focussed, the more distant she became. The more he focused, the more the darkness at the edges of his vision grew. Within a second, the darkness encompassed his world and he felt himself sink into unconsciousness. 

For the first time in days, his body didn’t ache.

He felt cold. Very cold. Izuku felt his body scream at him that he needed to find warmth. Or that it needed to produce warmth. He couldn’t tell. His body was begging him to do something, anything. He imagined a nice steamy bath. How the heat of the water would go up to his clavicle, but somehow still bring the comfort of warmth to his face. He felt as if he could lay in the warmth of the bath forever, without a worry in the world. He could sink completely into the water and experience pure bliss. If he ever felt too warm, he could simply lift his feet out of the water to feel the rush of cold that the air provided. Something about that thought was peaceful before it quickly devolved into one of panic, ‘Wait, why can’t I feel my feet? ’ 

Izuku’s heart skipped a beat, the realization striking him with surprise. He tried to move his feet again. He couldn’t even feel his feet, much less move them. Panic rose in his chest and he felt his breathing grow unsteady. He knew his feet were there. He didn’t understand how he knew, but it just made sense. His feet were there — he just couldn’t feel them. The panic now had his adrenaline coursing through his veins. Making a quick personal once over, Izuku realized it wasn’t just his feet. He couldn’t move anything. It was also at that moment he realized he couldn’t even feel his eyelids. His eyes were closed. He couldn’t see. ‘Am I dead? ’ 

Izuku immediately rejected that idea. ‘No. If I was dead, I’d either be in some afterlife or the neurons in my brain wouldn’t be firing, so I wouldn’t be able to think anyway. This is something different.’ The panic that had welled up in his chest had now been transformed into a primal fear. Instinctual fear. Something was horribly wrong with him. He just had to find out what. What was the last thing he remembered? The question was simple enough, but it was difficult for Izuku to find an answer. He couldn’t remember. He could only recall the feeling of warmth on his skin. The distant twinge of pain. ‘Pain,’  Izuku thought, ‘That’s it. I need to remember the pain. I need to feel it. I need to use it to come to my senses.’  

He thought of that elusive ache, forcing it to come back to the edges of his consciousness. It started slow, like a buzzing numbness. The feeling continued to intensify until it became a dull throb. It trepiditously spread throughout his entire body. He could feel again. The throb grew into an agonizing sting beneath his skin and then a torturous burning sensation. When sensations spread to his fingers, he finally got a response. It twitched. His pinky finger twitched. Izuku’s heart leapt into his throat as he flexed his finger again, and then after a couple of flexes, his entire hand moved. It would only be a matter of time until Izuku had full control of his body. ‘My eyes,’ Izuku thought, ‘I need to open my eyes! ’ With a colossal effort, he focused on the pain in his eyelids and commanded them to open.

The light was searing. Even through the small slit he managed to create, the light was all-encompassing and gave no hint as to where he was. ‘Maybe I am dead after all.’ Izuku pondered before willing his eyes to open more. It was painful. The brightness caused sharp pains to erupt behind his vision, but he needed to know where he was. What was happening to him. 

Finally, the disorienting light receded, and he could make out the blurry outline of a face staring down at him. Facial features were shifting and swirling around the face, making their expression indecipherable. He saw a mouth moving before words hit his ears, “-hear me? Do you know where you are? Can you-” 

Izuku was then overwhelmed as a wave of realization rolled over him. The bathroom. The fire. The quirk. His dad’s quirk! His quirk? He didn’t know. He felt nauseous. And like he had been run over by fifteen semi-trucks. He focussed on the mouth of whoever was in front of him, “Do you know your name?” The person turned away, looking somewhere he couldn’t quite piece together, “Doctor, he seems to be waking up. He hasn’t been able to make an intelligent response yet, but his vitals are increasing rapidly. His heart rate is 118 bpm, so something is happening in that head of his.” 

‘Hospital? Was he in a hospital? He had to be. He must have sustained some sort of injury from the fire. C’mon Izuku focus. Wake up. Find out what's happening!’ The world then was infused with sharper colors and textures. The face of the speaker then materialized into a stable expression. It was a woman. She had big gray eyes and brown hair. Her eyes were scrunched together in worry. Her brown hair was tied into a ponytail. She had to be a nurse if her white clothing had any meaning to it. He then looked at the rest of the room. Yup, definitely a hospital. His eyes flickered to an older man with short, wispy white hair. He wore a stethoscope around his shoulders and was moving his mouth, but the words were slurring together. He held a clipboard dense with papers, all presumably about him. Izuku honed in on the man’s words. “-you speak to me at all?” 

He wanted Izuku to respond. Izuku could do that, right? On the first attempt, Izuku’s mouth only released a small squeaking sound. ‘That isn’t right,’ Izuku thought before he tried again, “Wha-What happened?” 

The doctor’s eyes lit up with delight before he turned to the nurse and quickly commanded, “Go notify his mother that he’s awoken. He seems to be regaining consciousness with his mind intact.” The doctor turned back to Izuku, “My name is Doctor Ito. Can you tell me your name?”

“Uh, Izuku Midoriya?” ‘Why did I say that like a question? ’ Izuku pondered, ‘That is his name, right? ’

“Perfect. Young Midoriya, you are at Central Hospital. This may come as a shock to you, but you’ve actually been here for the past three weeks! How are you feeling?”

That statement from the doctor shocked his brain into gear. The wheels in his head instantly began functioning at full capacity. Izuku sat up straighter in his bed, looking at the doctor with wide eyes before frantically asking, “Three weeks? How? There’s no way I’ve been stuck here for three weeks because of a little fire! Where’s my mom?” 

The doctor put aside his clipboard and grinned widely at Izuku. “Ah! So you remember what happened, that’s great news! As for your mother, I’m sure she will be here soon. I had a nurse contact her a few minutes ago.” He paused and started examining Izuku’s eyes, “And it wasn’t the fire that landed you here for three weeks. No, the fire was entirely taken care of by your brave efforts. Your mom found you passed out in the shower with scorch marks everywhere and the toilet half-melted. Whatever you did to stop the fire worked. You likely saved that entire apartment complex.” 

Izuku humphed, “More like put the entire apartment complex in danger, and then saved it from myself.”

The doctor waved a free hand haphazardly, “To-mate-to, to-matt-to.” 

The doctor took a seat on a stool beside the bed. ‘When did that stool get there? ’ Izuku wondered. The doctor excitedly began speaking again, “Now, let us get to the fun part. The reason you have been cooped up here for three weeks is that you have been in a comatose state since the incident. Which, turns out, was a good thing.”

Izuku responded, “Doesn’t feel like a good thing. I feel like I’ve been run over by twenty 16-wheelers.” Izuku paused and thought about the doctor’s words more, “How is someone being in a coma ever a good thing? That seems wrong.”

The doctor’s cheery smile morphed into a mischievous one, “Well, normally you would be correct. Comas are generally a very serious condition that is heavily linked with severe brain damage. In your case, however, your own body seemed to purposefully put you under to prevent you from experiencing severe pain.”

Izuku was about to interject, but the doctor continued, “You see, you had an extremely traumatic quirk activation. Your body in the past three weeks essentially went through a metamorphosis period. Your insides were completely rearranged and molded to fit your quirk’s needs. It was a dramatically violent process, but it appears like your body knew what it was doing. Midoriya, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this yet, but look down at your hands.”

‘My hands? ’ Izuku thought. He weakly raised his right hand from under the thin blanket. Everything appeared normal until his eyes focussed on the base of his palm. There, slightly below the center, and flush with the rest of his forearm, was a dark hole about two and a half centimeters in diameter. ‘What the fuck?! ’

Izuku’s breathing hiccuped as he raised his left hand. This one had it too. He raised his right hand to his face. It was less than a hole and more of a tube that went deep into his arms. He frantically looked at the doctor, but it was clear by the expression on his face that he didn’t know any more than Izuku did. The doctor jotted something down on his clipboard before speaking, “Those holes, if I had to guess, are some sort of exhaust pipes or tunnels for your flame to travel through. Your file makes it clear that your father only had fire breath, so it seems like that gene has mutated quite a bit. Your father also never went through anything quite as intensive when he first discovered his quirk, so there have to be some significant alterations to the base function of the quirk as well. You may also take notice that your fingertips have also changed. Fingertip alteration is typically a sign of a ‘five-point-quirk’ where-”

Izuku stopped listening. ‘My fingertips? What’s different about my-? Oh.’ They were almost indistinguishable from normal fingertips, but they were now much more porous. The skin on the finger nubs now presented a grid pattern so small that if you didn’t focus on them, they appeared normal. Izuku looked back up to the doctor and tuned back in, “-our case, I believe that you will be able to secrete something. What that something is, I’m not sure. So essentially, if my hunch is correct, you will have a two-part quirk. Fire generation and some sort of substance secretion. Whether or not you will be able to control your flames is to be seen, but regardless of that, it seems like you’ve developed a pretty powerful quirk.”

Izuku was at a loss for words and according to the increasingly rapid beeping to his side and the weight growing on his chest, he was getting overwhelmed. The doctor glanced at the machine next to the bed before sighing, “It looks like all this excitement may be a bit much for you right now. I’ll let you get some rest before your mom gets here. I’ll be back in as soon as you two are ready. We have a lot to discuss. Especially since developing a quirk at the age of twelve is unheard of. Many doctors will like to hear your story.” 

The doctor stood up and made his way to the door as Izuku watched him breathlessly. The doctor turned to face him when he reached the doorway, “Congratulations on your quirk, Midoriya.”

As soon as the door shut behind him, Izuku felt the sting in his eyes before tears once again blurred his vision. ‘ Maybe the universe isn’t out to get me after all. ’

He was wrong. So wrong. The universe was absolutely out to get him. He finally was gifted a quirk but was doomed to die soon after. Strangled by his own mother. Izuku coughed, “Mom, let go! You’re squishing me! My body isn’t exactly healed yet!” 

Inko had him in a deathly bear hug and was refusing to let go. Izuku could feel the shoulder of his hospital gown get increasingly damp. He had to end this embrace before she broke his already fragile bones. Ever since he woke up, Izuku’s body felt as if he had just run a marathon with zero training, and now the pressure on his sore muscles jolted him with searing pains. He weakly swatted the underside of his mom’s left arm, “Mom, get off me. It hurts.” 

The prospect of hurting her son was enough to get her to reluctantly release her grip and move backward. Taking a chair that had been on the outskirts of the room, she positioned herself as close to the bed as possible and held up Izuku’s right hand by the wrist. “Izuku, I was so scared you were never going to wake up! After I found you in the bathroom, you looked so… I couldn’t afford to lose you too. Then you didn’t wake up, and I was terrified! Only to be told by some doctor that your insides were melting you from the inside out, as if that would calm me down! That it was some type of quirk awakening. The scorch marks in the bathroom should’ve been a clear sign, but I just didn’t think-”

“Mom, I’m okay.” His interjection stopped her rambling in its tracks. An uneasy silence followed as she took inventory of her son. Izuku eyed the hand his mom was currently holding. Her eyes were fixated on the hole that now encompassed a substantial portion of his palm. Similar to his first instinct, she was attempting to look as far into it as she could. When she spoke again it was just a whisper, like her mind was elsewhere, “The doctors showed me this a few days ago when you left critical condition. I find it hard to believe that you could develop a quirk so late.” Her gaze then turned to her son’s eyes, “Did you know that they had to practically put you in a furnace? Apparently, they have a specialized room for fire quirks, since they are so common. I was told that people with fire quirks often need environmental heat to reach the internal equilibrium they need to recover. You ended up hogging the room for two and a half weeks.” 

She let go of his hand and moved her hand to his face, cupping his cheek. “I was so worried, Izuku. The doctors… They said some horrible things were happening inside of you.” She then donned a small smile as she released a small chortle, “You are going to have such a kick figuring out what your quirk was doing to your body. The doctors haven’t told me much, but they explained to me that your entire body melted and then rearranged itself. The doctors theorized that the reason it was happening now was that if you were any younger, you’d die from the procedure. Something about you entering puberty. It all goes way above my head, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I’m just glad that you’re ok.”

Izuku’s eyes were wide. ‘My entire body melted and then rearranged itself? That’s ridiculous.'   

Sure, quirk activations weren’t always the most gentle, but they never essentially kill the user and then revive them. But he was here, wasn’t he? He had tubes in his arms and, unless his entire life had been one big coma dream, that was new. And the doctors think something about puberty triggered it. If there was an internal delay in his quirk activation, it would make sense to use puberty. The evolutionarily proven process of pumping new chemicals and enhanced hormones would be an excellent trigger system. It would also ensure that it would only be carried out once the body was developed enough to handle extreme changes in body composition. ‘Ok, so I’m definitely not dreaming. I would never think of using puberty as a carrier system for a quirk activation.’, Izuku reasoned.

“Mom, I…” Izuku didn’t know how to begin, “I have a quirk.” By speaking those words, it was as if Izuku was acknowledging his new reality. That it wasn’t some fantasy his mind conjured. 

Izuku’s voice raised with excitement, “Mom! I have a quirk! I’m not quirkless! And it's a fire quirk too! Those are so versatile!” He started bouncing in his bed, his energy unable to be contained, “Mom, I can become a hero with a fire quirk. I just know I can! I’ll be a hero like All Might!”

He looked away from his mother and to his hand that wasn’t being held, “All Might… I can attempt to get into UA now!” 

He clenched his fist. It felt no different from what it had before his coma. The fist unclenched, his fingers flexed. He wanted nothing more than to test his quirk, but with no control or training, he refrained. His bathroom was already in shambles. There was no need for a repeat. Izuku turned back to his mom, “Can we talk with Doctor Ito now? He saw me change while in the coma, right? I bet he has all kinds of theories and things to say about my quirk!”

Inko sighed, “Already? I just got here, honey. Don’t you want to rest up a little? I haven’t even told you about how upset the apartment management is with us.”

Izuku groaned, “That can wait. I’ve been asleep for three weeks, so I’m more than rested up. C’mon, please?”

His mom only raised a slight eyebrow. She wasn’t convinced. Izuku grinned as he thought of a plan, “Mom, consider this. The sooner we talk to the doctor, the sooner we can go home. Maybe eat some katsudon in celebration!”

Finally, his mom relented, leaning back into her chair in defeat. “I’ll go ask a nurse for him.” As she got towards the door, she turned back to Izuku with a twinkle in her eyes, “No going into a coma while I’m gone.”

Inko looked at her bagged eyes in the mirror. What was she doing? Her son was in his hospital room celebrating finally getting a quirk, and here she was having a breakdown. He was happy, so couldn’t she be happy too? Izuku deserved this after everything that had happened to him, but that didn’t change how she felt. Her son had a quirk. A quirk that was capable of breathing green flames. 

She knew for a fact that it wasn’t her husband’s quirk. For one, her husband never had sizable cavities in his hands. He also never went comatose when he first gained his quirk. Nor did his flames have the capability of melting through porcelain effortlessly or the vigor that Izuku’s flames seemed to have. Whatever her son had, it was a much more intense version of Hisashi’s. And if there was a change in the flame’s power and output methods, then there must also be a substantial change to the core of the quirk. There was no way that a quirk would evolve so efficiently, but fail to rectify the blight that killed its predecessor, right?

She wasn’t so sure. If Izuku’s flames originated from inside of him like Hisashi’s had, then there had to be a compound that protected his internal organs from the heat. And if Inko learned anything from her husband’s autopsy report, it was to not trust random substances your quirk creates. ‘I should get him tested. If I know what killed Hisashi, there may be a way to search for it in Izuku.’ 

Inko turned on the faucet and cupped her hands, filling them with water before splashing her face. ‘No, that would cost too much money. I’ve already spent a good portion of the money from the sale of the house. And if Izuku is dead set on becoming a hero, that won’t be cheap. And even if I could afford the testing, there would be no way to definitively tell whether the substance inside Izuku would decay like Hisashi’s had. No matter how close the substance is to known compounds, it is still a new material with its own properties.’

She hated the situation she had been thrust into. Her baby had dreamed all of his life to become a hero, and now he finally had the power to do it. Why did it have to be so much like his quirk? Was her quirk not enough? Were her genetics that weak? And why did it have to happen now, almost an entire decade after it was supposed to? If Izuku developed this when he was four, then he would’ve never had to deal with the pitiful looks or the discrimination. It wasn’t fair for him to be snubbed for so long. She and Hisashi had shielded him as much as they could from the harsh scrutiny society had for him, but she wasn’t dumb. She knew how mean kids could be, and she doubted he could avoid the harsh looks or verbal abuse in school. Her heart ached in remorse as she imagined her little angel being made fun of by other children. 

That didn’t matter now, though, did it? He had a quirk now. A flashy quirk that could fulfill his dream of becoming a hero. Izuku was the happiest he had been since Hisashi passed. How could she deny her son the happiness he deserved by soiling it with the tragedy of his father? If she told him the truth now, he’d become resentful and distrustful of his quirk. He may even swear off using it entirely, then he’d never make it as a hero. ‘No. I still can’t tell him.’ She decides. ‘I’ll just have faith that the quirk has changed for the better. I’ll support Izuku’s dream of becoming a hero no matter what. If I have a limited time left with him, then I’ll make sure not a single moment is wasted.’

Inko wiped the remaining water droplets off of her face before fixing up her hair. She put on a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘It’ll have to do,’ She thought as she turned and made her way back to Izuku’s room.

Chapter Text

Inko had a hard time wrapping her head around just how drastically her son had changed in the four days since he had awoken from his coma. Doctor Ito was currently explaining to her the full complexity behind Izuku’s quirk and the exams they had performed for him, but her exhaustion mixed with her concern for her son prevented her from fully comprehending his words. Unlike her son, she had barely slept in the past month. Anxiety and grief prevented her from sleeping for more than a few hours at a time. It had gotten better the past few days now that Izuku had recovered, but she was still having trouble relaxing in the constant chill of the hospital. Her eyes drifted to the sleeping form of her son before they dotted back into the doctor’s, ‘Ok Inko, you need to focus. If you want to understand what’s happening to your baby boy, you need to actually understand what he’s saying.’

Doctor Ito donned a comically large grin as he looked at his clipboard with absurd enthusiasm. If Inko didn’t know better, she would assume he was looking at some video of his grandchildren. Why the doctor has been so ecstatic about her son’s condition was alarming, but at the same time, also comforting. It was nice to know he was dedicated at the very least. He glanced up from the report to look at Inko, “These are the results from the MRI and X-ray exams. What we found is incredible! Pardon my excitement, Mrs. Midoriya, but never in my nearly sixty years of medical experience have I ever encountered a patient as unique as Izuku.”

He left Inko no time to respond, quickly rattling off the results, “While in his coma, Izuku was unable to be closely monitored due to the heat he radiated short-circuiting our equipment, which made us blind to the transformations happening inside his body. However, our team of doctors here at Central Hospital were all very concerned for him and theorized that his body was going through an intense metamorphosis. From what we could figure out, all signs pointed to a cataclysmic change happening to his very being. And from these test results, we were not only correct in our assumption, but also severely underestimating the extent of it.” 

The doctor flipped his clipboard around for Inko, revealing an almost unrecognizable X-ray of Izuku, “Firstly, from the X-ray we took of his body, it seems like his bones have increased in density by nearly three times the typical amount for boys his age. There are also several new bones along his spine. The MRI determined that those bones support a double helix structure containing the same tubes that we see on his hands. This, by itself, is an incredible feature, but the MRI reveals even more than that. While Izuku was in the MRI scanning machine, we actually had several instances of interfering magnetic fields. We were able to find a workaround for the problem, but the cause for the interference was the fact that your son has tubes of highly ionized substances running throughout his entire body. Those tubes in his hands stretch throughout his arms, around his spine, down his legs, and even through his esophagus. With that much ionized material flowing through him, your son has become a walking, talking magnetic field. It is no wonder why monitoring him during and after his coma has been so difficult!”

Doctor Ito had begun chuckling a bit too loud for Inko’s liking. If he woke up Izuku, she would be very, very upset. That boy deserved some rest after all the hoops the hospital staff had him jumping through. Inko was about to speak up when the doctor opened his mouth and continued speaking, “Our scans of his body indicate that several things happened to his body while he was going through his metamorphosis. His entire digestive system has been shrunk by twenty percent, his appendix is now nonexistent, and his lungs have grown by ten percent. His lungs have changed substantially, likely to increase his resistance to breathing in smoke and carbon dioxide. The shrinkage of his digestive tract will likely mean that his dietary needs will be severely altered, and I assume there will be corresponding changes to his appetite as a result. The largest transformation, however, is Izuku’s development of an entirely new organ.” 

The doctor flipped through a few pages of his clipboard and then turned it around for her to see. Inko couldn’t make heads or tails about it, but she at least knew she wasn’t looking at an organ she was familiar with. Along the spine, in the middle of Izuku’s back, was a new organ that was shaped in a wide cylinder. It had the tubes Doctor Ito had previously discussed stemming from it before they coiled into a double helix around the spine. A shiver went down Inko’s spine and a pit formed in her stomach. She cursed her squeamishness. A new organ wasn’t super uncommon in quirk activations, but they usually happened in the womb and were a part of the user from the day they were born. To have her son rearrange his own organs and then create a new one was too much for her to think about. Inko tore her eyes off the image, “Accommodating his fire quirk with the tubes, I understand, but why did he create an entirely new organ? What is it for?”

The doctor turned his gaze to the sleeping form of her son, “I believe that the new organ is acting as some sort of generator or furnace. If the tubes are attached to it, and the tubes in his hands produce flames, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for his new organ to be specifically designed to create flames. The only problem with that theory is that those tubes are not isolated. The tubes also appear to connect to your son’s veins in various locations. My personal belief is that it connects to the veins so that his sweat glands can secrete the substance that will come out of your son’s fingertips. However, I have not confirmed that, since the boy currently has no control over that part of his quirk. So perhaps the new organ has multiple applications.” He paused and set his clipboard down. “Beyond that, it seems like the boy will make a full recovery and have quite a substantial quirk. I hear he wishes to become a hero. This quirk would work mighty fine for something like that.”

A silence filled the room for a brief moment before Doctor Ito looked back at Inko, “I know that this process has been very difficult for you and Izuku, but I appreciate the opportunity to work with you to help him get back to full strength. Developing a quirk at the age of twelve is a miracle, and I am not the only doctor who would be fascinated by his development. With your permission, I would like to continue monitoring your son and document his quirk progression as part of a case study. I believe your son is one of a kind and the changes inside his body could be a precursor of the future. Have you ever heard of the Quirk Singularity Doomsday Theory?”

Inko recalled reading an article a couple of years back about it while she researched possible explanations for Hisashi’s decline in health, but the details were escaping her. She spoke, “I’ve heard of it before, but I don’t remember much of it. Are you insinuating that my son is some sort of doomsday plot?”

The doctor held up his hands weakly, “No, no, nothing of the sort. The Quirk Singularity Doomsday Theory is an outdated theory that speculates that as quirks get passed down from generation to generation, they will become more and more powerful. With time, these quirks would evolve to become so powerful that the human body wouldn’t be able to handle them. This would cause human existence to change drastically, leading to a ‘doomsday’ that would end civilization as we know it. Many of the predictions from the theory have already been debunked, and, for good reason, the theory never gained much popularity.”

Doctor Ito smiled again, “It is not without its truths, though. Quirks are getting increasingly stronger. The power outputs of quirks are swiftly rising with each generation. Unlike the theory suggests, however, documented cases of quirks harming their users are at an all-time low. I believe your son is a testament to the adaptability of the human body. I believe that he has achieved this ‘singularity’ that the theory proposed and instead of harming him, his body adapted to his quirk. If this is true, your son may be patient zero. He could be a pioneer for research that will help future kids with their quirk manifestations. This is why I believe monitoring your son as he and his quirk grow could be a great blessing to the medical world, and I would be honored to be a part of it.”

Inko didn’t know what to say. The doctor believed that Izuku was some sort of next generation of human and that he wouldn’t be the last. That his journey could help those after him. But he also wanted to use him as a lab rat. Something that was to be poked and prodded. The whole thing didn’t sit right with her, but she couldn’t deny the logic of possibly helping other kids.

The dissonance in her brain gave her a headache. She let silence fall upon the room as she closed her eyes in thought, ‘If I agree, we would be at the mercy of whatever Doctor Ito wants to do during his study. Not only that, it could seriously distract Izuku if the examinations are too frequent. A hospital is no place for a child. Plus, he may even be wrong about the entire thing. Izuku may just be an anomaly and not some precursor to an entire generation of evolved humans. He is basing his theory off of an insane doomsday theory in the first place.’ 

Inko thought she had made up her mind when another point brought itself to her consciousness, ‘What if Doctor Ito is correct? What if there will be thousands of children being born with evolved bodies to suit their quirks, and they don’t have a top-of-the-line hospital at their disposal? They’d suffer tremendously. If the information gained from Izuku is spread to neighboring hospitals and clinics, then they could be helped more efficiently. Izuku could be a hero.’

Inko sighed as she opened her eyes and looked at the door of the hospital room, “I’ll agree, but only if you promise to follow several conditions. Firstly, I don’t want Izuku’s identity to be known in the study. Keep it anonymous. Secondly, I want full transparency and the ability to refuse any procedures or exams you may want to do. Lastly, there can be no more than one or two exams every six months. Any more than that and I fear it would interfere too much with Izuku’s life. I’m sure I will think of more stipulations in time, but those are some of the ground rules if I were to accept a case study.”

Doctor Ito’s eyes lit up. “Of course, Mrs. Midoriya. Those are all reasonable boundaries and I will honor every one of them. We can discuss details later while we are both a little more rested. These last few weeks have been quite hectic for all of us. For now, let us focus on Izuku’s recovery. Do you have any more questions for me before discharge?”

Inko took the chance to ask about what had been on her mind for the past several days, “The substance that Izuku is assumed to secrete. What is it made of?”

The doctor raised his eyebrows, “Oh, I don’t believe we’ve done any extensive tests on it yet, but I have a few ideas. Why do you ask?”

Inko looked down at the clipboard that had been discarded on a thin metal table on wheels, “My late husband, Hisashi Midoriya died a quirk death. His flame breath also came with a substance similar to Barium Ferrate. That substance became unstable and decayed into a toxic material that slowly killed him. I want to know if the same thing will happen to my son.”

Doctor Ito raised his eyebrows again before scratching his chin, as if he had a beard, “Ah, I see. I’m sorry for your loss.” He paused for a moment, debating how to proceed, “Quirk deaths are exceedingly rare. And they are often genetically solved in their offspring. So the odds of Izuku’s quirk not figuring out a way to stabilize his substance is low, but not zero. Even our basic testing of his quirk revealed that whatever the substance he secretes is, it is dense with barium and iron. So it may be similar to your husband’s Barium Ferrate-like substance.” 

He hesitated before continuing, “Considering those two components, the substance Izuku likely contains is similar in nature to Hisashi’s. I have no doubt in my mind, however, that if the boy’s body can figure out how to deconstruct and then reconstruct itself, then it can figure out how to alter the substance so that it wouldn’t kill him. I would not worry about the possibility of the boy dying. While we would need to do extensive testing of the material to find out for sure, I think the probability of your son suffering the same fate is incredibly low.”

Inko felt the tension in her shoulders release as the doctor assured her of her son’s future. She couldn’t help herself as a tight smile formed on her lips. Perhaps this new quirk wasn’t all bad. ‘Izuku’s life is most likely safe, but it's never a bad idea to take precautions. I’ll continue supporting him wholeheartedly so that even if the worst does come to pass, I will not look back with regret. I’ll make sure that Izuku becomes the hero that Hisashi always believed he could be.’

She smiled, “Thank you, Doctor Ito. I believe that’s the only question I had. If I think of anything, I’ll give you a call.”

He gave a warm grin as he grabbed the clipboard and stood up. He said, “Great. I’ll send a copy of the exam results to you for your records, and I’ll keep in touch about that case study. I’ll have to coordinate some things, but you should hear from me soon. You are free to leave whenever Izuku wakes. Have a great rest of your day and tell Izuku ‘good luck’ for me. If he wishes to become a hero, he’ll need it. He is developing his quirk eight years late, after all.”

Doctor Ito bowed before turning to the door and leaving. A sigh escaped Inko’s lips. She hated hospitals. It had to be the worst place in the world. She was more than happy to be able to leave. The thought of waking Izuku crossed her mind so that they could leave sooner, but she quickly crushed that line of thought as she looked at the boy’s peaceful face. A line of drool had formed at the corner of his mouth while his arms were spread out wildly across the bed. Inko smiled, ‘He needs this.’

Izuku had the greatest mother in the world. After a bit of sweet-talking, he had managed to convince her to keep him home from school for another few days. He didn’t completely need the extra rest, but adjusting to his new body was turning out to be easier said than done. After his discharge from the hospital, the first thing he noticed now that he was out and about was how heavy he felt. At first, it wasn’t noticeable, but as he walked around their apartment, he began to realize how quickly he became winded and how much additional effort it took to move his feet. He had heard from the doctor that his bones had increased in density, but for whatever reason he hadn’t anticipated difficulty walking being one of the side effects. The stiffness in his back was also obnoxiously prominent as a result of the additional structure tied to his spine. 

Sure, he wasn’t the most athletic or flexible person before the transformation, but he at the very least wouldn’t get winded by simply walking from his bedroom to the kitchen. ‘Maybe I finally need to bite the bullet and make a workout routine. I’ve never found the concept of exercise very enjoyable, but right now I’ll take anything if it means being able to walk normally again.’

He pondered the thought as he poured water into a stainless steel pan, ‘Exercise can wait a bit since I’ll probably adjust to this new weight in the next few days. First things first, though. Time to test out my quirk’s fire.’ 

Izuku didn’t know why his first instinct to test out his quirk was to make a pan of rice. Maybe it was because it was a process he was familiar with. Maybe it was because it was a safer option than anything else, considering his mom wasn’t home. Maybe he was just hungry. There was no way of knowing. He glanced down to the side of the counter, where his new notebook was splayed open. It was a special forest green notebook that his dad had gotten him before he passed. Instead of the cheap convenience store Campos notebooks Izuku typically used, this one was a sturdy hardcover that had a strong binding and spine. While it was still just a notebook, it felt more intimate and meaningful, so Izuku felt an immense amount of pride in being able to fill it with a quirk of his own. After more deliberation than he was willing to admit, he settled on a title he deemed fitting for the book that marked his origin: 'Hero Analysis for the Future #0.'

Inside the pages of the notebook were neatly organized notes of everything he knew about his quirk so far, theories for how his quirk could grow, and ways to test his quirk. Currently, it was flipped to a page describing his first fire temperature test, the ‘rice test’. The gas stove was usually set to medium-high heat while cooking rice, which, according to a quick internet search, correlated to a temperature of between 700 and 900 degrees Celsius. Coincidentally, the average temperature for fire quirks typically falls in the 800 degree range. If he could heat the pan using his quirk and successfully cook the rice, then he’d be able to create a low-end baseline for his own flames. His plan was simple. He was going to fill the pot with water and rice and attempt to bring it to a boil with his flames. If his flames are around 900 degrees, it would take close to five minutes to bring about a rolling boil and if it takes closer to ten minutes, then he’ll know that his flames are closer to the 600 or 700 degree mark. Once he got it to the boil phase, he planned on just straining it and putting it onto the actual stove top, and continuing cooking it at a low heat as normal.

Izuku had already laid down a broken-down cardboard box on the ground and laid a plastic cover over it. Priority number one was protecting the wooden floor and making sure he didn’t burn the apartment building… again. Izuku shook his head, holding the pan by its handle with his left hand, and placed his right underneath it, ready to ignite. He closed his eyes and thought this through one last time, ‘Ok, so I know that the upper limit of my flames is probably around 1700 or 1800 degrees Celsius since I melted the porcelain toilet when I first developed my quirk. However, if my hunch is correct, that heat is far from my baseline. I need to figure that out before I can do anything else.' His eyes glanced to the front door nervously, ‘It’s a good thing mom still has this old saucepan. I’d hate to see what she’d do if I melted through a nice one. Well, here goes nothing.’ 

With a flash, dancing green flames illuminated the room as Izuku’s right hand erupted. Izuku blinded himself for a second before his eyes adjusted. “All right!” Izuku exclaimed, “It didn’t explode or anything. What a relief.” 

He watched with fascination as his palm was engulfed in flames. It was one thing to have a quirk, but it was another to see it in action. The pan was seemingly holding on fine at the moment, but as his experiment approached thirty seconds, he began to notice the water begin to form small bubbles. ‘Already?!’ Izuku thought incredulously as he leaned closer to the pot. ‘At this rate, I’ll begin boiling the water in less than a minute! That should be impossible! The energy required to bring a few cups of water to boiling isn’t some trivial amount and even with ambient energy loss, my quirk is doing it! I bet Dad’s notes have a section on fire quirks and classifications based on temperature. If I’m capable of doing this, then I’m sure I have a pretty powerful one, just like Endeavor!’ 

Izuku focussed back onto the water. He can try to figure the math out later, right now he had to make sure this didn’t go horribly wrong and wreck the apartment. The seconds passed by slowly as he watched on with excitement. The small air bubbles that had hung to the surfaces of the pot were now growing larger and forming without the aid of the metal, which forced the rice to fervorously thrash around the container. ‘ This counts as boiling, right? ’, he appraised. As Izuku went to turn off his flames, however, he felt the odd sensation of dripping on his palm. ‘What? The water isn’t even overflow- oh.’ 

A glob of silvery liquid fell onto his hand before a cascade of boiling water poured through the opening, quickly extinguishing the flames. He silently thanked his quirk for giving him extreme heat resistance as the boiling water now leaked onto the plastic tarp below him. Izuku lunged over to the sink and placed the pot and its contents in it. ‘So much for lunch. ’ He thought sourly before perking up, ‘I just boiled water in about 70 seconds and more importantly, melted through solid stainless steel! Even if it was only a little hole, I still melted the pot!’

Izuku grabbed the bath towel he had placed on the nearby counter and began wiping up the water that had spilled. He had imagined that something like this could’ve happened, considering how destroyed the bathroom had been when his quirk first manifested, but he anticipated it to be an explosion or him dropping the pot by accident. To have his quirk melt the pot itself in such a short amount of time was insanity!

He quickly made sure the kitchen was spotless before disposing of the tarp and the cardboard. A glance into the sink revealed that the metal had quickly solidified and was, fortunately, easy to peel off of the sink’s porcelain. He touched the pan. It was impossible to gauge its temperature due to his quirk’s higher tolerance of heat, but it didn’t seem to be incredibly hot. Izuku gingerly grabbed the handle and wiped the water with a cloth. ‘A memento to mark the beginning’, he thought eagerly as he hauled it back to his room and placed it on his desk. 

He whipped around to the box that held all of his dad’s stuff. The collection was once neatly organized, but now it had several textbooks popping out of it and notebooks sprawled across the floor as a consequence of Izuku’s curiosity. ‘Now, we get to the fun part. Figuring out how the hell I did that.’

Time was lost to him as he submerged himself in the science of fire quirks. His mom came into his room to tell him that dinner was ready, which finally broke his trance. Izuku looked down at his green notebook. He had filled out six entire pages with dense notes about his experiment and what it had meant for his quirk. 

The first thing he realized while looking through his dad’s notes was that he was an idiot. The rice test wasn’t even necessary at all. It was fun, of course, and would have been an excellent quirk assessment for any other fire quirk or if he didn’t have preexisting knowledge of a quirk similar to his. However, if his flames were as similar to his dad’s as he assumed it was, then an even easier way of determining a temperature baseline was to use his dad’s notes and consider the core of the quirk. 

According to his dad’s notes on himself, Hisashi Midoriya had a base flame temperature of around 1000 degrees Celsius, which was classified as an enhanced fire quirk. Izuku figured that his quirk wouldn’t regress in temperature output, so creating a lower limit of 1000 degrees would make the most sense. Following that line of logic, the rice test was inconsequential from the start. Izuku also found notes from when his dad was in college and had taken a sample of his spit, which revealed that he had a high amount of barium compounds in his system, which caused his flames to become green. Many common barium compounds such as barium chloride have melting points of around 900 to 1000 degrees Celsius, so it would make sense that his flames kept those compounds in liquid form. 

The only good thing that came out of the experiment was the accidental melting of the pan. With a little help from an online database, he found that the melting point of stainless steel was about 1400 degrees. Which consequentially meant that he had been able to raise the temperature of the steel from room temperature of 20 degrees to its melting point of 1400 in a matter of about a minute. Following the general rules of thermodynamics, this meant that his flames were likely at the very least 1500 degrees. If that is true, then the jump to 1700 that he experienced when he singed his bathroom wasn’t as significant of a jump as he thought it had been. 

Thinking back to the night of the incident, technically speaking, what had destroyed his toilet wasn’t the flames themselves, but it was a concussive blast from his flame igniting that caused it to break. The porcelain of his shower was a better indicator of the heating ability of his flames. Its walls were only partially deformed, which told him that his flames’ temperatures were extreme, but couldn’t transfer heat capable of completely melting the porcelain in the span of a few seconds. That meant his flames maxed out very close to 1700 or 1800 degrees Celsius. 

Izuku was very pleased with his progress, but still had a knot in his stomach about the uncertainty of his hand-wavy math. If he was correct, his flames fluctuated between 1500 and 1800 degrees. That was a wide margin, but either temperature would still put him in the upper echelon of fire quirks. Since he had just developed the quirk and not progressed it at all, that meant his flame quirk was likely in the same power group as Endeavor! Izuku began jumping up and down in excitement, “With a fire quirk like Endeavor’s, there’s no doubt I can become a great hero! UA will have to let me in!” 

Now that he had a basic grasp on how his fire operated, his next goal was to understand whatever the liquid was that sometimes leaked from his fingertips. That would be significantly harder than testing his flames, due to the unfortunate fact that he currently had no control over it. In the hospital, he had tried to use that aspect of his quirk several times, but no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t figure out how to release it. If it wasn’t something he could consciously use, then how was he supposed to figure out what it even did? 

Quirks don’t develop with absolutely no purpose so, whatever it was, it had to be somewhat important, right? ‘Perhaps it works like Kacchan’s quirk and I need to sweat it out. I guess that would make some sense, but that’ll limit its output, which would be disappointing.’ Izuku thought about it for a moment longer, ‘I don’t even know if I sweat anymore. My body doesn’t exactly register ambient heat anymore now that my internal temperature is the same as a raging inferno.’ 

He brought himself back to reality and announced to himself, “It doesn’t matter right now. I’ll figure it out eventually. I should just be happy about my fire. I have a super powerful fire quirk that’ll no doubt land me in UA! I can’t wait to see the look on Kacchan’s face when he sees how powerful I am now!”

Lost in the exhilaration, Izuku ran over to the window and cast his eyes on the distant figure of UA. ‘Dad, even if you aren’t here in person, I’ll be sure to make you proud. I’m strong, just like you wanted me to be. I’ll make myself into a hero in no time!’ He clenched his fist and daydreamed of what life at UA would be like for a minute before he heard his mom yelling from the other room. 

‘Oh right. Dinner,’ Izuku reminded himself. He swiftly turned around with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “Coming!”

The sound of rhythmic pattering filled the silence that had fallen upon the car. Izuku was in the backseat of his mom’s car, tapping his hand against his thigh nervously. Fidgeting with his uniform’s tie had only occupied his mind for so long, and his mind needed occupation. His mom glared at him from the rearview mirror, “Izuku, cut that out! I know you’re nervous about your first day back at school, but you need to calm down a bit. Frantically hitting your leg won’t do you any favors in class, right?” Her eyes went back to the road in front of them as a small smile spread across her face, “Unless, of course, you want to be known as the ‘tapping’ kid on your first day.”

The tapping stopped. Izuku groaned and held his face in his hands, “It's just so embarrassing! Aldera started school weeks ago, so I’m already super behind! And It's probably all the same kids from elementary school. Kacchan is there, isn’t he?”

Kacchan . The thought of him sent a cold shiver down Izuku’s spine. He hadn’t seen him in months, and their last confrontation had been less than pleasant. How was he going to react to him developing a quirk? Was he still going to call him a ‘useless Deku’? He’d be lying if he said that hadn’t been thinking about his return to school since he got home. Did they know what had happened to him? That he wasn’t quirkless anymore? Izuku slowly wiped his hands down his face as he leaned back into his chair, ‘Are they going to think I’m an even bigger monster than before? That developing a quirk at twelve is more unnatural than being quirkless? How will the school respond if they make fun of me? ’

Anxiety-driven thoughts swirled around in his brain for a handful of minutes until he noticed the car stopping. He glanced outside the window. It revealed a large white building several stories high. The main doorway at the front of the building was daunting, with large glass doors opening into a small courtyard. It was definitely nicer than his previous school. He could make out an assortment of colorful structures on the building’s roof. ‘I think one of those is a greenhouse.’ Izuku thought as he tried to regulate his breathing. 

Countless other cars were gathering in the parking lot, and kids were roaming all over the building. Izuku thought he might’ve seen a few of them before, but he wasn’t sure. He could feel his blood pressure rising as he realized that most kids were clumped in groups. He knew he had missed the first few weeks of junior high, but he failed to consider how everyone probably established their friend groups already. Izuku wanted nothing more than to just go back home as the panic welled up in his throat. ‘Uh oh, uneasy sensations in my throat didn’t work out so well last time.’ He thought as he swallowed hard. 

“Izuku, honey, we don’t got all day here. I know you’re nervous, and I don’t blame you, but classes start in ten minutes, and you don’t exactly know where you’re going, so I suggest you get a move on.” Inko said softly to her son. 

Izuku let out another long sigh before grabbing his bag and hopping out of the car, “Alright. Thanks for driving me today, Mom. I love you!”

As the door shut behind him and the chill of the morning air introduced itself, he got a strange feeling in the small of his back. It was a warmth that climbed his spine and enveloped him in a comforting warmth. ‘I’ve got this. It can’t be any worse than elementary school.’ Izuku thought to himself as he uncharacteristically strolled up to the large glass doors with an unfamiliar confidence. 

With his head held high, he walked into the building and immediately was overstimulated by the sheer amount of people packing the entry room. It was hard to tell from where he was standing, but it seemed like two branching hallways were each lined with glass cases of photos and trophies. In the back of the common room was a staircase and a closed doorway. ‘Alright. All I have to do is figure out if I go up the stairs or down one of the hallways,’ he concluded. 

That was where the problem was, he supposed. The markings on the walls were either covered by other people or not helpful in the slightest. Izuku thought to himself as he walked closer to the junction, ‘Maybe I can just choose one and see where it takes me. I’ll find the room eventually.’

He considered doing that, but his gut told him to do something he would have never done a few weeks ago. He spotted a group of guys congregating near the stairway in the back of the entry room. They were tall and amid a passionate conversation. He picked one guy out as the friendliest looking and made his way over to him, “Excuse me.”

The boy he had approached hadn’t noticed him, but one of the friends that faced his direction noticed him and smiled politely, “What’s up? Need help with something?”

The entire group had ceased their conversation as they all looked at Izuku. At any other time, he would have caved under the pressure of their gazes, but that feeling of comfort that had enveloped him since he got here gave him the conviction he needed, “Yeah, sorry. I’m new here, and I’m trying to find my classroom, but don’t know where to look. Would you happen to know where classroom 1-C is?”

The kid that he had originally intended to approach smiled lightly, “Yeah. It's down that hallway,” he pointed to the hallway to the right of the entryway, “and on your second left. It’ll be the second classroom on the right. If you can’t find it, just go through these doors next to us, and it’ll lead you to the front office. They’ll be able to help you out too. Welcome to Aldera and good luck finding your class, dude!”

Izuku bowed slightly and thanked them before making his way down the hallway. ‘Ok, so it’s the second corridor on the left and the second room on the right. That’s pretty easy to remember. ’ He brought out his phone to check the time. ‘ Damn, there’s only a minute left until class starts, I should hurry.’

In no time, he scurried to the right room and stopped himself outside the doorway. He drew in a deep breath and tried to steel his nerves. It didn’t work, but he felt more confident than when he was in the car, so he figured it was now or never. He can’t stand outside the doorway like an idiot forever. Slowly, he opened the door and immediately felt everyone’s gazes dart to his entrance. Izuku put on a small smile as he fully entered the room. A bell had gone off behind him, but he was too focused on scanning the crowd of faces for anyone he recognized — there were some, but only one stood out. In the right half of the classroom, was a beacon of danger. A spiky mess of blonde hair accompanied by a cold glare. ‘Great. Kacchan is here.’

Whatever confidence he had previously felt on his journey here vanished completely and was replaced by a sense of unease. An itch also formed on his fingertips. ‘Wait, my fingertips?’ 

Izuku looked down and immediately realized what was happening. His fingertips were beginning to secrete a dark, charcoal-colored substance. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Why now of all time?’ He complained to the universe before shoving his hands into his pockets. 

The teacher grabbed his attention as he made his way over to him from his desk, “Ah. Class, this is our new student. Well, he isn’t really new, he’s been enrolled since day one, but he’s decided to take a little vacation before joining us. On the plus side, it seems he’s picked up a new quirk, so I guess it all works out.” 

Kacchan’s boisterous yet menacing laugh filled the room, “Ha! Whatever miracle quirk he got has got to be a second-rate ripoff! It won’t amount to much, knowing Deku.” 

The teacher whipped his head around, “Bakugo, what did I tell you about unprompted outbursts? Now, Midoriya, I’m sure you recognize a couple of faces here, but why don’t you introduce yourself to the class anyway.” 

Izuku formed a thinly veiled fake smile and wiped his right hand against his thigh before taking it out of his pocket and waving to the class with more enthusiasm than he expected from himself, “Hello everyone. I’m Izuku Midoriya, and I’m pleased to join you all.”

Izuku had wandered his way to the back of the school once class had dismissed. He was hoping to avoid Kacchan on his way out. The blonde maniac had been glaring at him all day and every time he dared to look in his direction a whirlwind of insults was thrown at him. Clearly, Kacchan still had problems with him. He had a powerful quirk now, though, so at least he couldn’t be called quirkless anymore. 

He made his way outside and was inspecting what seemed to be a koi pond when he heard the familiar sound of an explosion behind him. ‘Here we go,’ Izuku braced himself. 

Turning around, he saw Kacchan and two other boys he didn’t recognize approaching him. “Deku! Just because you developed some wonder quirk doesn’t mean you’ve become anything more than a fancier punching bag!”

Izuku’s face drained of color as he forced a smile, “Kacchan, I was wondering if you’d change at all for junior high.”

An explosion was let out in Kacchan’s hand as his group stopped a meter in front of Izuku, “You can’t improve perfection, so why would I change?”

“Nobody's perfect Kacchan,” Izuku replied, “I’m sure there’s something you could-”

He was cut off by Kacchan saying something and one of his goons leaping forward and grabbing Izuku by the collar and dragging him along. Izuku struggled against the iron grip the boy had on him but was unsuccessful and received a punch to his rib as a reward. The boy had a low-pitched voice and a slight lisp as he ordered, “Shut up.” 

Doing all he could, Izuku quieted and let the boy drag him farther from the school’s entrance. Kacchan’s voice was in the background, but it was drowned out by the roar of a heartbeat in Izuku’s ears. The farther they traveled, the tighter the boy’s grip on his collar felt. Kacchan led them to an empty corridor on the exterior of the building. It was hidden from sight and the foot traffic around them was nonexistent. Izuku thought agonized,  ‘No help this time, I guess. Why even have this jut in the building if it doesn’t have a purpose other than to create the perfect beating grounds spot?’ 

The grip was released as the boy shoved him to the back wall of the corridor. Standing tall at the other end of the alley was Kacchan. Izuku rubbed his neck, “I don’t suppose you’re here to throw a ‘welcome back’ party?”

He was met with a cold and sadistic grin, “Something like that. Just here to remind you of the garbage you are.”

The first punch came swiftly to his gut. It wasn’t horribly hard, but it was followed up by a second one to his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two lackeys back up to the entryway. One was on the lookout and the other was ready to jump in whenever Kacchan gave the word. The third punch came straight for his face but fell centimeters short before exploding in a flash of light and a wave of force. ‘At least the heat of the explosions is gone,’ Izuku thought idly. 

Several punches and explosions pressed him against the wall before Kacchan exclaimed through his pants, “I’ve missed this Deku! Teaching you your place as a hopeless nobody! I hear from my parents that you’ve got a fire quirk! Congrats, maybe you’ll make yourself useful as a dumpster fire!”

Another series of fists rammed against his face and abdomen, while a couple of kicks also began to join the choreography. ‘This is even worse than before I got the quirk. Usually, it's just a couple of punches, but he’s not holding back this time. I didn’t even do anything to him!’ Izuku cried to himself as tears began flowing. The pain in his chest hurt incredibly. He felt like curling into a ball and giving up on the ground, but something inside of him wouldn’t allow him to do it. He didn’t have anything to prove. Why was his body telling him to keep standing? 

The pain of an explosion burning into his left arm brought him back to the fierce look in Kacchan’s eyes. “You useless Deku! Developing a quirk over the summer and thinking you’re hot shit. What a fucking waste of space. Maybe you can light a few candles now, but you’re still going to amount to nothing.”

That quip about his quirk triggered something in the back of Izuku’s mind. His quirk was far from a candle lighter. It had just burnt through solid stainless steel! It was not an everyday fire quirk. A gasp escaped his lips as another punch landed on his stomach, “My quirk is strong. You’re just too dense to notice it!”

Izuku didn’t know where that retort had come from. He had never talked back to Kacchan during a beating before, so why was he doing it now? A laugh disturbed his thoughts as Kacchan exclaimed, “Fat chance, loser! You’re still just an insignificant fraction of what I am, and that’s all you will ever be. Your dad breathed fire, right? I bet your lame-ass quirk is just as shitty as his was. Look at where that got him, six feet under. Serves him right for being so weak!”

A flash of warmth filled Izuku’s entire being as his assailant droned on. The warmth originated from his spine before spreading outwards to his extremities, increasing in potency as it expanded. Soon the warmth felt like a searing fever. The itch in his hands had also returned. Through the blows, Izuku caught sight of his hands. The charcoal-colored substance he had seen earlier began spreading across his palms and enveloping his entire hands in a slimy layer of black. Then with a blow to his chin, his hands erupted in green. The flames followed the trail of black slime like it was oil and started to lash out wildly. 

Kacchan had a moment of hesitation as the first flickers of viridian light reached his eyes. This was it. The moment his body had been waiting for. Without skipping a beat, Izuku willed every muscle fiber in his body to engage as he ferociously brought his fist to Kacchan’s chest. 

The force behind the punch sent him skidding backward toward his two lackeys. Izuku quickly glanced down at his flaming hands before staring ahead to the small gap that he had created. Without a thought in his mind, he opened his mouth and willed a stream of flames to engulf the space between them. The brightness of the flames was almost too much for Izuku’s eyes, but after a moment, they had adjusted and revealed that a low-hanging fire had placed itself on the ground. He locked eyes with Kacchan’s. His eyes were alight with fury, but there was nothing he could do but back away from the encroaching flames. The two goons had backpedaled to the corridor’s entrance and were more than ready to flee. 

Through the green, Izuku could make out the fist-shaped hole in Kacchan’s uniform and the blistering skin underneath it. Izuku glared as fiercely as he could in his direction, “I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’d matured, but that's not the case! I’m fine with you making fun of me, Kacchan. But don’t EVER speak about my dad like that!” 

Apparently, the words struck how he had wanted them to as Kacchan hunched over and winced in pain, “You’re fucking crazy Deku! Wait until the principal hears about this!”

An unfamiliar growl left Izuku’s throat before he shouted with a more threatening tone than he had ever used before, “Don’t think I don’t have the scars you’ve left me with over the years, Kacchan! A couple of star-shaped explosion scars can only come from so many places! If I’m going down, I’ll be taking your ass with me! Then you’ll never make it to UA, and you’ll forever be a useless Deku like me! Now leave! Don’t speak to me again unless you want your mom to find out about your ‘extracurricular activities’!”

Kacchan grit his teeth before shouting back, “You’re a fucking useless nobody and always will be! Don’t kid yourself and play hero now!” He turned to his friends, clutching his chest, “C’mon guys, let’s get away from this maniac before his crazy rubs off on us.”

They grumbled in agreement before scampering away. Once their footsteps had receded far enough, Izuku’s confident persona evaporated. ‘What the fuck just happened? Why did I say those things? Why did I punch him back AND use my quirk? My flames reach almost 1800 degrees! I could have killed him! Shit, shit, shit! I need to put out these fires before it draws too much attention!’

He quickly wiped his still-flaming hands against his sides and managed to extinguish them. His frantic gaze then followed the wall of flames that had overtaken the ground. He ran over and began stomping it out. He had taken out a spare jacket from his backpack and patted down any resilient fire. During this process, all that he was thinking about was his sudden change in persona during the fight. He thought back to earlier in the day when he had felt an unnatural confidence flow through him. Only one explanation came to mind.  ‘It’s been a theory for decades that quirks influence an individual’s personality, but I’ve technically had my quirk for my entire life, and it only manifested recently. So wouldn’t I have the same personality regardless?’ 

Izuku begrudgingly acknowledged the possibility that his assumption was mistaken, and the manifestation had triggered this personality shift — and now it was starting to take root in his psyche. If his personality was to be influenced by his quirk, then he was bound to become more like fire. That didn’t sit well with him. If being ‘fiery’ meant burning his childhood friend’s chest in a punch, then he was incredibly worried. 

‘No, no. It’s not a personality shift. I’m just having a long day and lost my temper. I won’t develop a rash personality. I won’t become like Kacchan. I can’t. If I am going to be a nice, powerful hero like Dad wanted, I just can’t turn out like Kacchan!’ Izuku frantically reasoned with himself.

As the last flames were stamped out. Izuku quickly tidied up the singed edges of the corridor and ran for the school’s exit as fast as his feet could take him, only slowing to avoid the suspicious gazes of onlookers. Continuing that pace all the way back home, thoughts had begun to swirl uncontrollably in his head. What if Kacchan does tell the principal? What would he do if he actually had to display his scars and advocate for his innocence? What would his mom say if she found out? How will he be able to go back to school and share the same classroom as Kacchan?

If Kacchan did go to the principle, then Izuku would really be in trouble. Those scars he had leveraged against Kacchan were healed when he had gone through his quirk activation, so if Kacchan called his bluff he would have nothing to defend himself. His only hope was that Kacchan was intimidated enough to not bring their fight up to the school or the police. While it was out of self defence, he still burnt Kacchan's chest with his fist, which would count as unlawful use of a quirk. Even if he was only 12, the law took quirk usage very seriously and he could be prosecuted for assault and illegal quirk usage. He cringed at the thought and forced his legs to go faster, not caring anymore for the odd looks he got from passerby. 

It was all too much to think about, and Izuku’s heart had already taken residence in his throat. The last thought Izuku had before barging into his apartment was, ‘I wonder if I can homeschool?’

Chapter Text

Unlacing his red sneakers in the entryway to his apartment, Izuku thought about how happy he was to be home. School today had been a little too much for him. To start his day, he had spectacularly embarrassed himself in front of the entire English class. As if a mortifying mistranslation hadn’t been enough, he realized that his only two friends were nowhere to be seen when he got to lunch.  Not wanting to sit with the kids who were only nice to him because of his quirk, he sanctioned a remote table for himself. He had made it a habit to avoid the cafeteria whenever he knew his friends weren’t going to be there, but they hadn’t given him any warning today. Which, conveniently, left him wide open for a couple of Kacchan’s lackeys to come by and poke fun at him. How Kacchan managed to keep all of these guys around him like loyal attack dogs with his deranged personality was one of the world’s greatest mysteries. Perhaps it was just a matter of moths being drawn to a flame. Might makes right, after all. Everyone around Kacchan had been constantly reminded how gifted he was since the time they were four, so perhaps they just wanted to bask in his greatness — to feel good about themselves through proximity to someone predestined for success. 

Luckily, the spiky-haired devil hadn’t appeared, or things in the cafeteria would have really heated up. Lunch wasn’t what tipped him over the edge, however. In the final class of the day, his homeroom teacher had brought up a topic that Izuku knew would only bring him trouble. He still had the memory burned in his brain; his teacher had gone to the front of the class and brought up high school applications. He had positioned himself at the front of the classroom and pretended to start a speech about the many different avenues students can take in high school. The pretense was short-lived, as after a few seconds he dropped the facade in favor of whirling around the room excitedly and rhetorically asking if everyone dreamed of going into hero academies. The teacher had even thrown a stack of papers into the air for dramatic effect. Of course, the room had gone wild in response. 

~~~

Ever since America had set the precedent for government-sanctioned crime fighters, heroes have become status statements in Japan. It wasn’t until All Might had broken onto the scene roughly forty years ago, however, that the entirety of the nation’s youth became obsessed with heroics. The number of applicants to hero academies around the nation has grown year over year for the last fifty years, but the growth of the actual hero academies paled in comparison. This disparity naturally resulted in more and more people getting rejected from their hero-centric dreams. While rejection is a normal piece of life, it had become a major problem in recent years, when large percentages of quirk-related criminals cited rejections from hero academies as their reason for turning to crime. 

The media and the entire world had held heroes on a pedestal, so, justifiably, people wanted a piece of that spotlight. Good intentions can still have negative consequences, though. The drive for heroics took too much attention away from the public’s support for industry, inadvertently causing the youth to no longer dream of furthering technology or finding a cure for cancer. They wanted to be heroes. When that didn’t work out, crime became increasingly enticing. 

Izuku groaned while everyone had begun celebrating the teacher’s antics. He had written a whole paper describing the dangers of overvaluing and oversaturating the hero market for his writing class’ final a few weeks ago. He glanced around the room and eyed the celebrating students. ‘So,’ Izuku thought, ‘ Everyone here wants to apply to some hero school. At best, two or three of us will get into any of the dozens of hero academies in the nation. Which leaves about twenty devastated and highly impressionable kids with no goal in their lives. I just hope we can all find something to fulfill ourselves with if things don’t work out. Before any of us turn to crime.’

His eyes caught on one of his classmates popping out his eyeballs and swinging them around in a circle above his head like a lasso. ‘What exactly would he be able to do as a hero with that quirk? His optical nerves are still intact, so he’d feel pain whenever he would sustain any damage to his extendable eye sockets. Plus, he doesn’t have enhanced vision, just the ability to view the world from about a foot above his normal height.’ 

Izuku considered the applications of the quirk before slumping in his chair in shame, ‘God, I’m such a hypocrite. It was less than three years ago when I was quirkless. I was even worse off than he is! And I was still dead set on becoming a hero! Thinking in terms of quirks is reductive, and I should know that from first-hand experience. Maybe the guy’s quirk isn’t very directly applicable to hero work, but maybe he’d be able to find a way to become one anyway. Support Items were always an option. He wouldn’t be the first person to attempt to become a hero with only support items, so it's definitely possible. That was MY plan if I never developed a quirk.’ 

He glimpsed to his right, where a pretty orange-haired girl was seated next to him. She was currently spewing a stream of red flames from her arm and waving it eagerly. ‘Even with a quirk, it’s not like I’m horribly special. I know my flames are above average, but that doesn’t change the fact that flame quirks are still a dime a dozen. Making a name for yourself when there are thousands of people with quirks just like yours isn’t exactly a walk in the park. It’s amazing that Endeavor has been able to stand his ground at number two with a fire quirk.’

A loud laugh interrupted his self-deprecation. Kacchan’s. With tired eyes, he glanced to his old friend who was lackadaisical, casually leaning back in his chair, “Don’t lump us all in the same group. I’m not going to be stuck at the bottom with the rest of these rejects!”

‘Oh boy. Here we go.’ Izuku thought as the room grew even louder in protest. Several students tried chastising Kacchan before they were chewed out and called “extras.” As if the teacher was trying to stir the pot even more, the teacher mentioned Kacchan’s intention of getting into UA. Immediately, Izuku knew what was about to happen. Kacchan was currently boasting about his success on the UA entrance mock exam, but since the teacher already had privately discussed with each student their plans after graduating junior high, Izuku was willing to bet the conversation was about to shift to him. He breathed deeply in preparation.

The voice of the teacher drowned out Kacchan’s speech, “Midoriya, you wanted to go to UA too, right?”

Yup. There it was. The tension in the room immediately became palpable as everyone’s heads snapped to look at him. Izuku sat up straight, “Yeah, that’s right. Can’t let this hothead get all the glory, can I?”

A few chuckles erupted in the room before a flash and a blur of an explosion landed on his desk. His chair was pushed backward by the force and threatened to tip over, but he managed to firmly plant his feet in time to prevent himself from falling over. His chair fell to the ground beneath him with an echoing crash. While his confidence had grown immensely over the last couple of years, his height unfortunately hadn’t gotten the memo. He stood up as straight as he could without looking like a soldier and looked at the boy standing next to his scorched desk. “What did you say, pissant?” Kacchan screamed.

“I said, Kacchan, that I’m applying for UA too. You weren’t the only one to take the mock exam. You would’ve known that if your quirk hadn’t destroyed your hearing.” Izuku replied snarkily.

An usher of “ooohs” filled the room before the teacher stepped in. “Bakugo. Absolutely no destroying Midoriya’s or the school’s property. Return to your seat. Now.”

Izuku bent down and picked up his chair, ‘Imagine that. I get a quirk and the teachers start defending me. How unpredictable.’

Once everyone had sat down again, the teacher continued, “Bakugo. You have an amazing quirk and are incredibly intelligent, so I have no doubt that you’d be able to get into UA. But Midoriya also has a fantastic quirk and is just as smart. He’s going to give you a run for your money, and you can’t just attack him every time you feel threatened. You pull that behavior during the entrance exam and there’s no way they’ll let you in. Remember that.” 

The teacher continued talking, but Izuku wasn’t interested in what he was saying. The anger welling up inside of him needed to be addressed first. He assumed it was a side effect of his quirk, but for the past three years, his temper had been put on a shorter fuse. It rarely flared up like this, but Izuku imagined that his fire quirk had made his emotional state more volatile. If he felt an emotion, he would feel it stronger than he would have previously — and it was especially vulnerable to anger. 

Izuku closed his right hand into a loose fist as he focused in on what was happening in the classroom. Papers were being handed out. Probably the high school application forms. Izuku only had two high schools in mind. UA and Shiketsu. The eastern and western powerhouses of Japanese heroism. While he was hoping for UA, he had to be practical. UA has had the lowest acceptance rates of any hero school for the past twenty years. It would be a challenge for him to get into it, even if he had the greatest quirk on Earth. Shiketsu would also be challenging to get into, but it wasn’t as prestigious as UA, which meant that it could accept more students. 

The teacher had announced that once they filled out the high school application form, they were free to leave, so as soon as Izuku was handed the application paper, he quickly filled it out and handed it to the teacher. As he handed it to the teacher, his eyes leveled with his teacher’s, “You know Midoriya, you shouldn’t let Bakugo get under your skin. You did excellent on the mock exam, and you’ve got a very powerful fire quirk. That’s not even mentioning that black goo you secrete. You’re also one of the most dedicated students I’ve ever seen. A combination like that is hard to beat. The entrance exam for UA is in less than a year. Work on the physicality of that quirk and I bet you’ll have pretty good odds of getting in. Now get moving, I got other kids to worry about. See you tomorrow, Midoriya.” 

All he could bring himself to do was respond with a weak, “Thank you, Sensei” before doing a lazy bow and leaving the classroom as quickly as he could. Izuku was hoping Kacchan and his cronies would stay for a couple more minutes so that he could get a head start on his way home before they bothered him. He rounded the corner to the stairwell and was met with a head-on collision with Kacchan. Izuku’s right shoulder drove into Kacchan’s chest by mistake and sent the blonde boy stumbling backward. ‘Huh,’ Izuku considered, ‘I guess the extra bone density and the weight training I’ve been doing have paid off.’

“Sorry, Kacchan, I was just leaving.” Izuku realized something, “How’d you even get over here so fast in the first place?”

Kacchan brushed his hands against his midnight black uniform, “Loser. Can’t even see where you’re going. I can’t believe you think you have any chance in hell of getting into UA. You should have it in your head already that you’re small fry compared to me. Always have been and always will be.” 

Izuku scoffed, “Yeah, yeah. I’m not quirkless anymore. I bet I could scorch your ass.” 

He turned away from Kacchan and began walking away, already tired of the bickering. “I already have, actually. If you’ve forgotten, I can always give you a reminder. Jog your memory a bit.”

Kacchan sneered before retorting, “I feel bad for you, Deku. Still living in a fantasy where you think you’re hot shit. You should just jump down that stairwell right now. Maybe in your next life, you won’t have to compete with me.”

Izuku didn’t bother responding to that. Without looking backward, he flipped Kacchan the bird and made his way down the stairwell. ‘I think Kacchan reads too many Isekai manga.’

~~~

He shook his head, stopping the mental reenactment as he pulled his second shoe off of his foot. At least today didn’t get physical. Ever since that confrontation with Kacchan on his first day at Aldera, neither of them have been willing to escalate things to the point where they had to use their quirks. Over the past few years, they’ve gotten into physical altercations a couple of times, but they had agreed to limit it to just fist fights. Now that Izuku worked out regularly and had a mostly healthy diet, he was no longer a pushover. While Kacchan still had a leg up on him physically, he was able to hold his own. And since the school feared their ranking would go down if their fights ever went public, time and time again, their altercations were swept under the rug. 

That didn’t change the fact that the student body knew, however. It was common knowledge at this point that he and Kacchan couldn’t be left alone for more than thirty seconds. A majority of the grade also took Kacchan’s side since he had the preexisting popularity heading into junior high, while Izuku was known widely as the ‘Quirkless Deku’. Of course, with time, he had gained a few sympathizers and some friends who weren’t so enamored by Kacchan’s violent robustness. That made the past two years a little more tolerable. Plus, it finally allowed Izuku to develop his rusty social skills, so it could have been worse. 

Right as Izuku walked out of the entryway and into the kitchen, he heard his mom yell from down the hallway, “Izuku, honey, is that you?”

Izuku smiled, “Yeah, Mom. It’s me.”

His mom emerged from her room carrying a gray laundry basket full of clothing, “I’m glad you’re back. No fights today, I hope?”

Izuku idly opened up the fridge, “Not today, luckily.”

He didn’t have to look to know his mom smiled at that. “That’s great Izuku. That means you can help me out. A work call ran a little late today, so I couldn’t go to the store for food. Can you run back out and do that for me? The list is on the table there.”

An internal groan was released, “Mom, but I just got home!”

“Izuku.”

“Fine, fine.” He walked over to the other side of the countertop and grabbed the handwritten list of grocery items, “I’ll be back soon. Love you!” 

He heard a faint, “Thanks, sweetie!” as he reached for his dull red shoes.

As he grabbed a carton of eggs out of the store’s refrigerator, Izuku overheard a woman an aisle over talking, “Did you hear that All Might is becoming a teacher at UA? Isn’t that crazy? What is he becoming a teacher for? He could be out there saving people!”

A masculine voice responded, “Well, technically, he has been a hero for like, 40 years now. It would make sense if he’s getting a little old, he’d want to help out the younger generations. I think it’s awesome. Just think of what kind of heroes we will get if they’re trained by All Might!”

The rest of their conversation was inaudible as they walked further away from him, but the topic of their conversation hadn’t left his mind. ‘All Might being a teacher would be fascinating. He would know a ton on battle strategy and takedown maneuvers. All Might can probably only give me general advice for the fire side of my quirk, but maybe he’d have some valuable pointers for how to develop the substance secretion. In the past three years, all I’ve discovered about it is that it reacts to my flames like oil, it’s charcoal-colored, and I can very weakly telepathically push and pull it from my hands. I bet he’s come across a quirk like that before. If not, I guess I could always talk to Vlad King. His blood manipulation works similarly, so I bet he’d help me out. But this all depends on me actually getting into UA.  I can’t afford to get rejected when All Might is a teacher! Too much is on the line to fail now.’

‘Speaking of heroes being in the area. There are rumors of a joint mission between several different heroes that is taking place nearby. I guess Musutafu is just a hotspot for heroes right now. I wonder if whatever group of villains they’re taking out is well-known enough for there to be footage of the fight. It’d be a bummer if they all come together and none of it is recorded.’ Izuku mused as he moved on to his last item on the list. 

Without realizing it, several minutes had passed while he was staring at the vast selection in front of him. 

‘Ok, Izuku, this shouldn’t be this hard. Just pick one. Crunchy Crunch or Flake O’ Corn. It’s just cereal. I doubt Mom will be mad at either.’ He frantically debated in his head. 

The curse of options weighed heavily on Izuku at the moment. His mom had just written down ‘cereal’. She didn’t specify which one, and now he was left with guessing, hopeful that he wouldn’t receive the ‘Wrath of Mom’ when he got back. He was still deciding when something out of the window caught his eye. It was a person. They were running and gesturing for people to follow. ‘A villain attack?’

Izuku patted his interior jacket pocket. Yup. It was there. His ‘Hero Analysis for the Future #13’ notebook. He quickly grabbed the Crunchy Crunch cereal and made his way to the checkout. It took longer than he would’ve liked, but he finally got rung up and began sprinting after the stranger he had seen. There weren’t any giant people around, so he didn’t exactly know where to go, but he at least knew which direction it was in. After a bit of running, he heard the murmurings of a crowd and raced after the source. 

As he turned a street corner, he saw several things all at once. There were dozens of people huddled together at a wide alleyway entrance. Beyond the bystanders were several sets of roaring flames, and in the middle of the inferno was a dark green fluid that moved wildly. The bags of groceries made it hard, but as Izuku approached the group, he fought and wiggled his way to the front of the crowd. Once he had a good line of sight, he dropped his bags and pulled out his notebook to document the situation. Backdraft was to the right, putting out fires, while Kamui Woods was elongating his arms to aid in the rescue of any nearby civilians. He seemed to have been placing them on a neighboring rooftop. Death Arms was… standing still?

Why was Death Arms standing still? The villain was a fluid-manipulating quirk user, right? Even if he couldn’t tell what the dark green goo was, he was sure the villain had a physical body nearby that Death Arms could fight. “Hey,” Izuku began to the person next to him, “What’s happ-” 

‘Citizens, please back away from the alleyway entrance! The fighting area is expanding, and you are all in danger! This is Mandalay of the Wild Wild Pussy Cats. I repeat, the fighting area is expanding, please back away from the alleyway!’ A loud feminine voice screamed in his head.

“Mandalay?” Izuku questioned out loud.

‘The Wild Wild Pussy Cats don’t operate anywhere near Musutafu. What are they doing here? ’ Izuku thought as he picked back up his bags and took several steps back.

The goo was still sloshing around violently, but most of the action was happening on the other side, so it was hard to tell what was happening. As the bystander group stopped backpedaling, Tiger from the Wild Wild Pussy Cats appeared and acted as a guard rail, preventing anyone from getting closer to the scene. Behind him stood Pixie Bob, who began throwing mounds of dirt at the slime. 

‘If they’re attacking the slime directly, then is the slime the villain? I’ve never seen a sentient liquid before. And where’s Ragdoll? Usually, all four of them come in a group.’ Izuku questioned the situation as the scene became more dire by the second. 

He glanced up at the rooftops where Kamui Woods was placing civilians, and there she was. Out of the entire Wild Wild Pussy Cats ensemble, he found Ragdoll’s quirk to be the most interesting. She can track a person, identify their quirk, and instantly know their weakness by simply looking at them. It was incredibly useful and could be used in a multitude of different situations. ‘Maybe that’ll help the heroes in this situation; if they can figure out the sludge villain’s weakness.’

Once the fascination with the present heroes faded, his mind began to play catchup on the situation. It has already been several minutes since he’s gotten there. The heroes were losing. They couldn’t find anything that would stop this guy. That would explain why Death Arms is just bordering the fight—his physical attacks must do nothing. That’s also why Tiger is playing the role of guardrail. Backdraft’s water wouldn’t do anything either. His water isn’t pressurized enough to cut through the dark green substance, so he’s been reduced to firefighting. This is bad. Really bad. They need someone with a more viable quirk, but what quirk would even work against a liquid-based villain like that?

His thoughts were interrupted by an ear-piercing scream originating from the direction of the slime monster. It had now wriggled around to face the crowd. Its face was weirdly just floating atop the goo, and its mouth seemed distorted somehow. ‘Wait,’ Izuku’s blood went cold, ‘Is that a person?’

Izuku squinted his eyes through the growing amounts of smoke. Those were definitely thrashing arms and legs. He couldn’t get a good look on the face of the person, though. He craned his neck and that’s when it happened. A spark, quickly followed by a muffled explosion. 

‘Shit.'

Ragdoll slammed her forehead onto the edge of the wooden ‘desk’ she had been stationed at. The large table’s circular nature was more suited for a mission debriefing than an office desk, and it only made her agitated condition worse. She let out an elongated sigh of frustration as her eyes started tracing the simplistic geometric pattern of the carpet beneath her. Mindlessly, she stroked the bulk of green hair that hung over her right shoulder. The past week had been nothing but bureaucratic nonsense and goose-chasing. It was exhausting and irritating. The organized crime subdivision that she had been hunting down for the past two months vanished into thin air three days ago. No trace of them has been reported since. They weren’t big-time, like the Yakuza, but they were still large enough to be capable of serious damage. When Ragdoll received the report that their leads had gone cold, she immediately wanted to leave the case to a different hero team. It meant more overtime and more sleepless nights. Ragdoll had enough of those for a while.

Unfortunately, the Hero Public Safety Commission didn’t see things her way and immediately declined her request for the Wild Wild Pussy Cats withdrawal from the case. Worse yet, they appointed her as head of the operation. Hence, she hasn’t slept in… Ragdoll checked the cheap leather strapped electronic watch that hung loosely off her wrist. 52 hours. When she finally accepted the fact that she was stuck with the case, she contacted some nearby underground heroes who were more suited for the role of covert reconnaissance. Even the top brass like Kesagiri Man came up with nothing, though. ‘ How the hell does a villain group just vanish? ’ 

It didn’t make sense. She was missing something, but she was at a loss as to how she could find out what that was. If only she had been able to tag one of the criminals with Search, then this whole thing would be a lot easier. Now, the Wild Wild Pussy Cats were pressured into arranging a joint hero team up with several of the local daytime heroes, and Ragdoll was feeling severely under-prepared. She lifted her head from the table and could already feel the curved red line starting to form on her forehead. She glanced to the right of the empty conference room. Besides her laptop, papers, and a couple of empty coffee mugs, the table was barren. Empty chairs were circling the table, but she hadn’t seen anyone use them yet. On the right wall was a television that was broadcasting the news. It had become a background noise for her. She focussed on the breaking news segment the anchorman was discussing. 

“Rumors of All Might sightings are flooding the streets here in downtown Musutafu. The reports of him taking up a teaching position at UA High School seem to have some credibility behind them if All Might is making an appearance in the area. Here is an eyewitness testimony of-”

Ragdoll turned off the television with a short wail and subsequent smack of her forehead against the table. “Why?” She groaned. “Why the hell does All Might have to be in Musutafu right now? The best lead we had was in this city and now with the goddamn Symbol of Peace in the area, there’s no way that the criminal group is going to slip up. They’re just going to go deeper into hiding. Fuck!”

Her wallowing was cut off by the sharp ringing of her cell phone. She wiped her face with her hand and grabbed the phone with her other. Pixie Bob. She pressed the green accept button, “What is it, Tsuchikawa?”

The muffled voice of Pixie Bob came through, “Well, hello to you too! It’s a villain attack. Tatooin Shopping District. It’s a hostage situation where the criminal seems to be someone with a sludge quirk. Reports say that he’s practically a sentient liquid. He has a child in his grasp, and none of the local heroes have quirks that can do anything substantial against him. They’re grasping at straws out there. I’ve already gathered Mandalay and Tiger, and we’re en route. Mandalay says to rendezvous with her first.”

Halfway through the debriefing, Ragdoll had already begun putting on her costume. There was still one thing she needed to know, however, “Wait. I just saw a report of All Might also being in Musutafu. Is he not already on the scene?”

The faint noise of an argument could be heard through the phone before Pixie Bob’s voice returned, “Mandalay says that there's been no sign of him in the shopping district and that we can’t rely on him showing up. Tiger says ‘hi’ by the way.”

Ragdoll finished putting on her left paw. “Ok. Got it. I’m heading out. I’ll see you guys in a minute.”

The bumpy gravel beneath her scratched her leg as she crawled towards the ledge of the building. She had just met with Mandalay and was given a short summary of the situation. Pixie Bob had been right, the heroes here were out of ideas. When they arrived, she had even seen Death Arms just circling the villain like they were in an old-school boxing match. Even if his advanced strength did nothing to the sludge villain, he could at least be helping with the civilians or reinforcing the alley. 

As her hands grasped the serrated concrete edges of the roof, she got her first aerial view of the fight. It was a shallow alleyway with several shops lining the sides of the street. It would have been pretty if it wasn’t alight with prancing flames. A horrible aroma of burning trash and smoke filled her nostrils. She could feel tears forming in her eyes from the rancid stench. In the middle of the alleyway was the main event. A murky green mass thrashed against the walls of the alley, and she could make out glimpses of the citizen who was being held hostage. Adrenaline coursed through her as she realized the severity of what was happening. The villain had begun to waterboard the hostage with slime. Ragdoll felt her stomach flip as she heard the scream of a young boy come from the direction of the villain, “Get off me, you freak! And stop using my damn quirk!”

The hostage was a kid? And the villain was trying to take over his body? Was that possible? She didn’t know, but she also didn’t want to wait and find out. A crunch beside her alerted her of Mandalay’s presence. They shared a glance before Mandalay quickly pointed to a growing group of bystanders watching the ordeal from the alley’s entrance. “We need them to back up. They’re too close. Use your quirk on the villain and try to figure out how that kid is doing.”, Mandalay ordered before sending out a telepathic message.

Ragdoll only nodded in agreement. She glanced to her right, where she saw Kamui Woods place down several more citizens. She yelled over to him, “Get these people farther away from the fight! If this fight escalates, they’re still in danger. Can they walk?”

Kamui Woods looked over to her. His eyes were dazed, and his movements were sloppy. ‘He’s not holding up well.’

Just when she opened her mouth to repeat herself, he seemed to get the message and moved them to the other side of the roof. Better than nothing. Her eyes darted back to the writhing sludge below. Numerous sparks and minor explosions seemed to be coming off of him. No wonder there was so much fire. Reaching down into her energy reserves, she activated her quirk. In an instant, she gathered enough information on the villain to know that the hero’s current quirk selection was horribly insufficient for the situation. A flash of shame erupted in her heart. The child, who had an explosion-based quirk, ironically had the best quirk to take out the monster. 

Ragdoll looked back to Mandalay, “The villain’s liquid is dense with water, almost like sewage. He’s invulnerable to most physical attacks, but he’s not immune to blunt-force trauma. The only reason that kid down there is still alive after twenty minutes is because he has an explosion quirk. The force of the blasts is keeping the monster at bay, while the heat of the explosions is capable of vaporizing the sludge entirely. We need either a powerhouse like All Might or someone with a fire quirk, and I don’t think we have either.” 

Mandalay groaned loudly, “So what do we do then? We cannot, under any circumstances, let that kid die down there.”

Ragdoll racked her brain while Mandalay relayed the villain’s weaknesses to the nearby pros. She was the team strategist. It was her responsibility to think of something that could work. How do you stop a liquid? She shut her eyes tightly in concentration, but nothing was coming to mind. None of the quirks here were much help. Maybe Backdraft could control dense enough water to encase the villain? No, that would drown the kid. Maybe Pixie Bob could-

Her thoughts were interrupted with a shove from Mandalay and a distressed exclamation, “Ragdoll.”

She opened her eyes and followed where Mandalay was pointing. A young boy was thrashing wildly in the arms of Tiger. He was wearing an all-black uniform and had untamed green hair. His face was a mess. Tears streamed down his face in clumps as he rammed his fists against Tiger’s elongated triceps. His eyes were watery, but his expression wasn’t one of sorrow or trepidation. It was determination. A knot formed in the pit of Ragdoll’s stomach as she looked on. The boy couldn’t be older than fifteen and wore the same black uniform as the hostage. They must know each other. 

Her heart ached as she realized the implications. That boy was watching his friend die right before his eyes. She didn’t know if it was her lack of sleep or her physical exhaustion, but her emotions ran rampant at the sight. Tears began filling her own eyes as shame engulfed her. She cursed her own lack of ability to help. She could find the villain’s weakness, but she couldn’t magically make someone with the right quirk appear, nor did she have the physicality to keep up in a fight with sewage. 

Mandalay looked at her softly but still remained focused on the situation at hand. Several small flashes illuminated the alleyway in waves as multiple explosions erupted from the blonde-haired kid’s palms. Even in the grips of the villain, he was doing more damage than any of the heroes could. Trash was being flung to and fro while the fires still raged. Suddenly, Mandalay’s voice broke Ragdoll out of her emotional suffocation, “Ragdoll! That kid got past Tiger! He’s headed for the villain! Where’s Kamui Woods?”

That was a surprise. How had the boy escaped Tiger’s grip? Her eyes darted to the alleyway entrance, where the green-haired boy was now in a dead sprint towards the fight. Behind him was a blazing path of green that prevented Tiger from pursuing him. He was wielding a notebook in his right hand, and his left was becoming soaked in some black liquid. The adrenaline from moments before returned in full force as Ragdoll activated her quirk. 

A loud gasp broke through her lips. Whatever sadness she had been struggling with was hastily replaced with dread. Her blood ran cold, and her mind blanked momentarily. Ragdoll felt wrong . This kid. He was exactly what the heroes needed. A powerful fire quirk. But, something was off. Her quirk was panicking. It was reacting erratically to her scan of him, but she couldn’t fathom why. All she could discern was that she was in severe danger. Her heartbeat drowned out the surrounding chaos as the boy threw his notebook at the slime villain. The internal debate she had been wrestling with was decided as the shadowy green mass whipped around to face the child. 

Ragdoll harshly tugged the puffy trim of Mandalay’s costume, “Mandalay, we need to get back right now. Tell everyone to retreat.”

She took a second to glance down at the scene below her. The kid now had bright, glowing green fists and was throwing wild punches at the monster while yelling something indecipherable. “Mandalay, I’m being super serious right now. We need everyone to get away from the fight. Something isn’t right!”

Mandalay stumbled backward from the elevated ledge of the roof, “What? Ragdoll we can’t just retreat, we-”

Ragdoll didn’t listen and just gripped her teammate’s costume tighter as she dragged Mandalay farther from the edge, “MANDALAY. You need to give the order to retreat NOW. Tell Pixie Bob to throw up a protective wall of mud around the entire alley! Something is happening!”

She didn’t bother looking back towards the fight as she ran towards the civilians on the opposite side of the roof. The dread that had filled her consciousness morphed into fear as her quirk alerted her of a sudden change in the green-haired kid’s quirk. With a hefty yank, she pulled Mandalay and several civilians behind the protruding stairwell entrance. She hoped this cover would be enough. 

Just as the last civilian made their way behind the cover of the building entrance, the loud slapping of mud against concrete could be heard from behind them. The world seemed to pause around Ragdoll as a deafening silence filled the air. Mandalay was wide-eyed beside Ragdoll and was saying something that Ragdoll wasn’t hearing. After many seconds of silence, a brilliant flash of white filled the day-lit sky and was followed by a constant green glow. Ragdoll felt ripples of heat rolling across her body from the direction of the fight but refused to peek around the corner to see what was happening. A piercing hiss consumed the airwaves before horrific screams followed. ‘ I really hope that’s the sludge screaming. ’

Ragdoll looked at the face of a young woman who was huddled beside them. She had tears in her eyes and dirt on her cheek. Her jeans were torn in several places, her jacket was coated in soot, and gashes on her arms were trickling out blood. Ragdoll winced as the woman began sobbing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had ever felt this sick. Between the sickening sight of the hostage situation to her quirk triggering every survival instinct in her body, the nausea and relentless emotional turmoil she was going through was debilitating. 

Next to her, Mandalay began to move out from behind the cover of the stairs, intent on jumping back into the fray. With the screams dying down, Ragdoll risked another glance in the direction of the alleyway. Her quirk immediately backlashed, prompting her to grab onto Mandalay and sternly warn, “Not yet! We’re not done yet! The boy with the green ha-”

A flash of light behind Mandalay erupted, and Ragdoll swiftly jumped back behind cover with her teammate in tow, “Everyone, brace yourselves!”

As her body fell, she felt the building quiver underneath her. A resounding roar pierced her ears as the ground shook from an explosive blast. Her ears popped from the pressure, and she felt the building begin to sway back and forth unsteadily. A blazing green light encompassed her vision as she felt the temperature skyrocket. She shut her eyes tightly and covered her head with her arms. The building they were on wouldn’t last. 

Ragdoll wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and sit this out, but her responsibility as a hero ate at her. She opened her eyes hesitantly and locked eyes with Mandalay. “Tell Kamui Woods to get over here! This building will be nothing but rubble in a matter of moments!”

Mandalay nodded and turned away to console the frantic civilians. Ragdoll slowly shimmied her way out behind their cover and internalized the situation. The first thing she noticed was that the world had become green. Flames had engulfed every surface of the alleyway. The other side of the building where she had just been observing the fight from was now seven meters below, on the ground level, in a puddle of semi-liquid cement. The parts of the building that hadn’t been liquified were either charred beyond recognition or collapsed. It was holding itself together by a thread. A glance around informed her that every neighboring building was in a similar shape. The green flames were eating at everything with an unnatural voracity. 

Ragdoll found herself lost in the moment as the horrors of the scenery washed over her. Pixie Bob’s mud was gone without a trace. The bottom of the alleyway was blanketed in a thick black cloud of smoke, making anything within it vague and undefined. She shook herself after a few solemn seconds passed by and ran towards the nearest way to the ground. The ground burned her skin as she scaled down the rubble to the ground. As she jumped the final bit of the way to the ground, a strong breeze blew into the alley, uplifting the smoke and demystifying the explosion’s aftermath. 

At one end of the alley, in a small puddle, was the dark green sludge villain. He had been drastically shrunk and now wouldn’t even be able to fill a bucket. Ragdoll examined the body of the villain briefly. It wasn’t moving, so either it was dead or knocked unconscious. She didn’t know which one she honestly preferred. 

Her tired eyes followed the trail of dominating flames to the opposing side of the alley. What she saw caused her to lean over and hurl. Slumped against the wall was the green-haired boy who had sent her ‘fight or flight’ instinct into a frenzy. With his left arm, he held the blonde boy who had been held captive in a death grip. The boy’s other arm had been partially reduced to a bloody lump of flesh. It was profusely spouting blood, while the white bone of the forearm was fully exposed, slightly swaying with the breeze. Ragdoll wiped her mouth as she carefully navigated through the war zone between her and the boys. She looked down at the grisly amalgamation of flesh that had once been this poor boy’s hand. It was incredibly gory, but his arm was likely salvageable from just below his elbow. If she acted fast then maybe… She didn’t know what. Maybe the boy could have seventy-five percent of an arm? The anguish she felt was fatiguing, and the last of her strength had been spent.

She could hardly keep herself together as she desperately rummaged through her costume pockets for gauze and disinfectant. Ragdoll knew how to perform first aid, but looking down at the poor boy’s unconscious face, she was overcome with another wave of nausea. Splattered with blood and some sort of black substance, he had a depressingly grotesque complexion. Swallowing down bile, she began disinfecting the wound. Black dots began swirling around in her vision as she felt herself drift. ‘No!’ She scolded herself. ‘Finish the job!’

Through the dreariness, she applied as best first aid as she could. As she finished wrapping the wound, she heard the whistling of air and the crunching of solid ground behind her. 

A deep, bellowing voice boomed into the crackling of the flames, “I AM HERE.”

Ragdoll didn’t know what was happening to her. She had been a hero for twelve years now, and she had already had the misfortune of seeing several devastatingly horrific crime scenes, but none of them had made her feel as dejected as she did right now. She was sitting in the back of a parked ambulance truck with her legs dangling out of the back door. A shock blanket had been placed on her at some point, but she couldn’t recall when. Or by whom. All she could think about was the feeling that arose in her chest when the boy had run into the battle. The intense urgency that every fiber of her being had resonated with. As a pro hero, she had forced herself to develop a solid resistance to intimidation and danger. Her ‘fight or flight’ reflex should have been just ‘fight’ at this point. So why had this situation been so different? 

Images of the aftermath flickered in her mind. The two young boys’ limp bodies. Their bloodied faces. The exposed forearm bone. The gruesome way the arm had been reduced to tendrils of loose skin and muscle. The way that the once-connected hand had been utterly erased from existence. Perhaps she was getting softer as she grew older, but the look on the green-haired boy’s face was heartbreaking. Even with his hand blown off, his own blood strewn across the alleyway, and half the block in shambles, the boy still held onto his friend with a smile and an expression of pure contentment. 

Once All Might had arrived on the scene, the downcast mood of the public shifted to inappropriately cheery. As if a tragedy and a failure of monumental proportions hadn’t just taken place. The heroes were humiliated. Saved by a child, who sacrificed his own arm. In the process, several buildings had been destroyed. Whose fault was that, really? The boy’s, since he unlawfully used his quirk? The heroes, for not stopping the villain sooner or being unable to prevent the boy from rushing into the fray? Ragdoll didn’t know. She just knew she felt incredibly sick. 

After landing, All Might quickly examined the situation before funneling the sludge villain into empty soda bottles using the kinetic energy of his punches. He had thanked the nearby heroes very loudly before breaking off a wooden board from one of the destroyed buildings and setting it beneath the two unconscious boys. Ragdoll vaguely remembered creating a make-shift tourniquet on the green-haired boy’s right arm before All Might had secured them to the board and in a single leap, made his way to the nearby hospital. The rescue efforts had gone by relatively quickly with Kamui Woods and Death Arms. Backdraft was crucial for extinguishing the spreading fires. Once the crowd had dissipated and the injured hauled away in ambulances, only a solemn silence remained amongst the heroes. While the public was seemingly satisfied with how things turned out, the heroes knew better. They knew they lost.

Ragdoll was pulled out of her thoughts as two shadows impeded her vision of the floor. She glanced up to an irate Mandalay and an overwhelmed Tiger. Mandalay crossed her arms and stood expectantly in front of her. She glared at Ragdoll for a second before bursting out incredulously, “What the fuck was that? A fucking kid runs into a fight, and you tell us to back off?? What were you thinking? Not only did you let a civilian join the fight, you told the heavily trained pro heroes to retreat so that a child can run in and blow his own goddamn arm off! Not to mention the fact that he destroyed several buildings in the process! Hell, Ragdoll, Pixie Bob got hurt!”

The glare from Mandalay was furiously sharp. Ragdoll couldn’t recall her ever being this visibly upset. Not since her cousin had been murdered, at least. Tiger’s look of overstimulation had also been replaced by one of anger; although it was slightly softer than Mandalay’s. Ragdoll didn’t even know what to say to them. She had no gratifying explanation for her actions. She didn’t even know if her actions were the correct ones to take. She had blindly followed her gut instinct and things still turned out horribly. The more she tried to come up with a response, the more she relived the disaster. Each thought bringing a gruesome image of the aftermath. Of the horrified faces of the bystanders. Of the dejected faces of the heroes who were incapable of preventing the carnage. 

Mandalay was becoming increasingly disgruntled and waved her arms in frustration, “Well?! We followed your instructions because we’re a team. Hell, I thought the slime villain was about to pull out a bomb or something. But you knew better AND let the boy run in like a goddamn vigilante! So, what the hell is going on?”

Ragdoll’s mouth was dry. Words wouldn’t form, and for a few seconds, all she could manage were indecipherable stutters. With a weak tone and as soft as a whisper, she finally managed to string together a sentence, “I don’t know. I don’t know. That boy, the one who ran in… his quirk. It’s not- It’s not normal.”

Tiger was the one to respond to that cryptic explanation, his voice course from the smoke, “What do you mean ‘not normal’? The way I see it, you trusted an untrained kid to take out a villain in a hostage situation more than pro heroes — more than us.”

A grimace enveloped Ragdoll’s face. Her left ear had started ringing again, and her eyes stung from dust and tears. “I don’t know what I was thinking. The boy’s quirk is fire-related, but my quirk told me something was drastically special about it. Or him. I couldn’t tell. Something about him, either his quirk or himself, isn't normal. Once I caught sight of him, there was this dangerous gleam in his eyes. I knew we wouldn’t be able to stop him and I- my quirk gave me a horrible feeling in my gut. That something was about to happen. I didn’t have time to think. I just- I just followed my instinct and told everyone to get back. I’m sorry.”

Mandalay’s jaw was tightly shut, and her aggressive expressions had become unreadable, “Did your quirk tell you we couldn’t stop the boy or was that just your own conclusion?”

Ragdoll averted her gaze. She tapped her dangling feet together nervously. Minutes passed in a tense silence between the three before Tiger spoke, “Ok. We can deal with this later. We need to check on Pixie Bob at the hospital and then get back to our meeting. I’m sure the people we recruited for our mission are quite unpleased that their hosts are nowhere to be seen.”

Mandalay let out a huff, “Fine,” her eyes fixed on Ragdoll’s, “This isn’t over. We’ll talk about this later.”

With that, Mandalay spun around and briskly walked in the direction of where they had left their car. Tiger looked at Ragdoll with a mix of sympathy and disappointment. 

Ragdoll’s eyes went big the moment Mandalay’s figure turned a corner, “Tiger. I know this is asking a lot, but I need you to cover for me at the conference.”

Tiger crossed his burly arms, “Now why would I do that? You’re not exactly off the hot seat yet.”

Ragdoll swung her body off of the back of the truck and landed on the ground with a thud. She discarded the shock blanket she had been wearing and looked past the city skyline to the barely visible UA towers. “I need to speak with someone.”

Chapter Text

Izuku felt weightless, as if he was adrift in an expansive ocean, going wherever the currents willed. His senses were numbed, but a sharp tingling in his fingers kept his mind racing. He could feel his body being swayed by a serene ocean, the wind softly ruffling his hair. The fresh smell of salt filled his nostrils. In the distance, he could make out the faint silhouette of land. It was an insignificant mound of sand no larger than a car, but it reflected the sun in a brilliant light. A beacon of salvation. Although he had never seen it before, Izuku felt inexplicably pulled towards it, as if it would heed his every need. The recurring waves of heat it produced were warm and inviting.

Mustering what strength he could, he began paddling his way to the shore. His muscles felt gelatinous and foreign as if his limbs were just puppets on a string. The weightlessness that he had been feeling worked against him as he struggled to gain any traction in the serene water. It didn’t want him to leave. The more he flailed his arms and legs, the stronger its hold on him became. As he painstakingly neared the island, the calm of the ocean began devolving into agitated ripples. Izuku could feel the water beneath him as if it were alive. It didn’t want him to reach the shore. The ocean offered tranquility, and it was being rejected for the coarseness of sand. 

The ripples in the water grew to waves as Izuku felt his feet brush against an underwater surface. He was getting close. The island was only a few meters in front of him now, and the land’s aura of hospitality flowed through him. A newfound vigor found its way to his muscles, allowing his movements to become solid. The water’s waves were increasingly aggressive and worked feverishly to push his body away from his goal. As if caught in a riptide, Izuku felt his feet begin to slide from underneath him. Reaching out to the land, he solidified his footing and willed himself to break through the current’s grip. All he had to do was put one foot in front of the other and march his way to the warm embrace of the island. The erratic waves clashed against his torso as he approached the boundary between sand and water. 

With a dozen more steps, the waves were left behind, only able to nip at his ankles. The radiating heat of the sand fully washed over him. Izuku wanted nothing more than to fall forward and meet the ground face-first. As soon as his feet left the water behind, that is exactly what he did. He let go of his muscles and allowed himself to fall to the ground. During his descent, the edges of his vision dimmed and encroached inwards. The smell of saltwater became more citric and pungent. As his face converged with the sand, the world in its entirety faded to black.

Izuku’s eyes fluttered open to darkness. A continuous beeping sound was the only sound he could hear. It was strangely familiar, but his groggy mind couldn’t quite place where he had heard it before. He was sat up in a bed of some kind, but it obviously wasn’t his own. His head felt light as a dull throb resonated in his skull. He took the chance to look around the room. There was a square desk to his right, accompanied by several chairs. Each chair had gift bags or flowers in it. Tied to the arms of one of the chairs were balloons. One of them read, “Get Well Soon!”

‘Get Well Soon?’ Izuku pondered. ‘Why would I have balloons that say that?’

After a moment of thought, Izuku recalled when he first manifested his quirk. ‘Ah. I’m in the hospital again. But what for? Is it another checkup with Doctor Ito?’

He whipped his head around to get a better view of the other side of the room. In doing so, Izuku made a horrific realization. No wonder his head felt lighter than normal. He couldn’t feel his hair. He shook his head again. ‘No, no, no. This can’t be happening…’

Regardless of how strange his new environment was, he had to find out what happened NOW. There should’ve been a button somewhere to call a nurse in. Izuku’s eyes caught a small glowing red button on the side of the beeping machine. 

He went to push it but was met with a confusing lack of response. Beginning at the button, Izuku’s eyes traced back to his right arm. His eyes went wide as he gazed upon the gap between where the button was and where a stump now resided. He felt his fingers go to the button, but his eyes were telling him that he didn’t have fingers to begin with. He wanted to scream, but nothing would come out. Instinctually, Izuku waved his arm in disbelief, and the stump responded to his movements. He looked down and hastily inspected his arm in panic. It was mostly intact up to the elbow, then slightly beneath his elbow was a stump of unnatural skin. Nearly no forearm to speak of and absolutely no hand. A ragged ear-piercing scream finally escaped his lips as darkness consumed him again. In the distance, he could hear the crackling of wood in a fire. 

~~~

‘Shit.’

The dark green of the sludge villain whipped out into slimy tendrils, lacerating the nearby storefronts. A pillar that held up one of the outdoor canopies shattered into pieces, sending the entire structure down with an echoing boom. Underneath one of the tendrils was a greasy mess of blonde, spiky hair. Izuku’s mouth went dry as the slime villain twisted into another shape. This time, Kacchan’s face was visible from the nose up. The slime villain had overlaid his own face over Kacchan’s head, giving Kacchan’s desperate eyes a deranged grin that sent shivers down Izuku’s spine. 

As if someone pulled the trigger, Izuku’s feet shot out from under him. Without any thought in his mind, he broke away from the crowd with a shove. The groceries were nothing but a distant memory. 

He could feel his eyes start stinging with tears as he took off in a wobbly sprint. The smoke of the fire filled his nose as he approached. Izuku tightly clutched ‘Hero Analysis for the Future #13’ in his hand, incognizant of its existence. The notebook bent itself inwards from the pressure, only structured by the pencil that lay within it. 

As Izuku reached the entryway where he witnessed the fight moments before, his body was suddenly jerked backward. Hands wrapped around his torso before unnaturally long arms ensnared his body. Izuku felt a body approach and heard distant shouts in his ear, but it was all trivial. His eyes were glued to the scene before him. Explosions now filled the alleyway. And since Kacchan was incapable of moving his hands, they clearly weren’t being done from his own volition. The sludge villain was forcibly activating Kacchan’s quirk.

Kacchan’s face twisted into a teary grimace as sludge was stuffed down his throat. He was suffocating. He would be dead in moments. Izuku felt tears well up uncontrollably as he fiercely wriggled against the restraints. As a face blocked his viewing of the public execution, however, something violently shifted into place in his mind. 

The world slowed to a screeching halt. Izuku glared at the person who stopped him. ‘Tiger.’

He felt the adrenaline course through his veins as he stared at the hero’s lips. They were moving at a snail’s pace. Whatever he was saying didn’t matter, anyway. ‘Think, Izuku, think. Tiger. Quirk is Pliabody, so he has unnaturally stretchy limbs. Some unofficial reports state that he also has some level of enhanced strength. No heat resistance. I can work with that.’

Tiger would take it easy on a kid, which meant that his use of force would be minimal. Conversely, that also meant he was using less strength to stabilize himself. Izuku jumped backward, dragging the larger man along with him. Without missing a beat, Izuku forced his foot downwards onto the boot of Tiger, eliciting a surprised yelp. 

‘With a stomped foot, people typically recoil backward, which would start with their feet and hips. The backward motion leaves their head to lurch forward and…’

Tiger hopped slightly backward, which caused his head to be left behind for a brief moment. Izuku inhaled sharply. When Tiger’s head was at the apex of its recoil, Izuku released a short puff of flames directly into the man’s face. 

A small cry escaped the hero’s mouth as the grip on Izuku loosened. Izuku tightly closed his left hand into a fist. His flames were too hot for Tiger to withstand direct contact. He needed to shield his fire the best he could from the hero’s bare skin. Igniting his quirk into his balled fist, Izuku let the heat spread to the restraining arms around him. 

The loose hold Tiger had on him became limper as the arms momentarily retracted. Not wasting this opportunity, Izuku ducked, slipping free. In a crouch, he leaped forward, putting distance between himself and the pro. Without glancing back, Izuku set the ground behind him alight in flames. ‘I am NOT getting caught again.’

The sludge monster had turned slightly away now, but he could still see the outline of Kacchan’s body straining against the goo. He had to hurry. In a dead sprint, Izuku closed the distance. He could feel the cool texture of his quirk’s substance envelop his left hand as he ran. Stopping momentarily, Izuku looked down at the mangled notebook he still held. Quickly opening up to one of the pages, he removed a pencil. ‘I can use this. If this monstrosity has a face, it has organs that aren’t liquid.’

Another wave of explosions shook the ground, but this time they were coming from inside the villain. The surface of the villain violently undulated from the blasts. ‘Kacchan’s explosions seem to be damaging the villain. Even if it’s minimal, it’s something. And the villain is purposefully staying in the center of the alley. Either he wants to avoid confrontation with the public or the fire is preventing him from escaping. No. It has to be the flames.'  Izuku felt a twisted grin form, ‘Just my luck.’

With a spinning windup, Izuku hurled the notebook at the slime villain, grabbing his attention. Izuku quickly wiped his eyes quickly and dawned a comically large smile, “Kacchan! I’m gonna get you out of there!” 

An unintelligible, distorted wail came from the direction of the blonde’s body as the sludge villain faced Izuku. As the yellow eyes narrowed in on him, Izuku was nearly paralyzed with fear. All confidence he had vanished, and he internally cursed himself for his reckless actions. He had just attacked a pro hero to get here, and his survivability depended on a hasty, half-baked plan. Fear enveloped his mind, slowing his reaction time just enough for a dark tendril to whip out of the villain's body and crash into him.

It latched onto his right foot and dangled him in the air. The slime villain bellowed, “What do we have here? Another volunteer? Sorry kid, I already picked the body I wanted. I’ll keep your corpse around for later, though!”

The slime villain raised Izuku closer to his face, ready to absorb him as well. With the world lopsided, Izuku’s eyes caught Kacchan’s. The desperate eyes he had seen moments ago were gone. They were replaced with a murderous glare. It sent a shiver down Izuku’s spine, which was just enough to jolt him back into action. Far-off sounds of mud slapping against concrete filled his ears as he steeled his nerves.

Nearing the face of the villain, he gripped the pencil in his hand. Only an arm's length away were the eyes. It was now or never. Using every bit of core muscle he had developed over the past few years, he lifted his torso upwards, twisting himself around. With as large of a lunge as he could manage, he extended his arm outwards and jammed the pencil forcibly into the left eye of the villain. 

The grip on his foot vanished. Air whistled in his ears as he dropped from the sky. While the slime was reeling in pain, Izuku took his only chance. He reached into the goo near Kacchan’s head and grabbed hold of the boy’s collar. With all of his strength and the help of gravity, Izuku wrenched Kacchan out. With his free hand, Izuku sent out wild flames at the villain. He wasn’t going to fail now.

Izuku hit the pavement hard. Landing on his side, his left arm throbbed painfully as his body scraped against the concrete. In his grip was still Kacchan., who was coughing madly. Inside, Izuku was incredibly happy that he saved his old friend, but on the outside, he was screaming out in pain. He greatly resented the fact that he had to get back up.

The bitter taste of metal filled his mouth as he stood on two shaky legs. ‘The fight's not done.’

Extending both of his arms, he released the grandest, most scorching fire he could muster. In a wide arc, Izuku focussed on creating a wall between them and the sludge villain. It wouldn’t hold him forever, but it would give him some time. 

The brilliant green that illuminated the alleyway was all-encompassing. The details of each building were lost in the blinding light. The smell of smoke wafted into Izuku’s lungs. He hated his actions. He was burning down people’s livelihoods. Izuku could see the faint silhouette of the villain writhing in the flames, ‘He’s still moving? He isn’t as weak to flames as I thought.’

Still spewing flames out of his hands, Izuku took as deep of a breath as possible. He held it for a moment, letting the warmth of the flames accumulate in his lungs. Then, in a massive blast, Izuku shot a torrent of viridian fire in the direction of the sludge villain. He cringed as he heard the thundering screams of the villain echo throughout the alley.

With a substantial wall of fire and smoke separating them, Izuku turned to Kacchan, who was lying against a wall. Izuku didn’t know what he was expecting. Gratitude? Thankfulness? A smile? He didn’t know. However, he certainly wasn’t expecting to turn around and see a seething rabid animal ready to assault him. 

Kacchan yelled into the roaring of the flames, “You fucking Deku! What do you think you’re doing? I didn’t need saving from you!”

Izuku’s face fell. He should’ve known it was going to be like this. He had hoped that maybe reconciliation between them was possible at some point. Saving someone’s life had to count for something, right? Izuku felt his stomach flip. “That’s not what it looked like from the sidelines. The heroes were failing at everything they tried. You were going to die, Kacchan!”

Bakugo weakly stood, “I didn’t need saving. My quirk was wearing this bastard down. And All Might is in the area. He should’ve been here to save me, not YOU.”

Izuku laughed incredulously as his temper flared, “Really? You’re going to complain about getting saved because All Might wasn’t the one to do it? Well, news flash, asshole, I’m here and All Might isn’t.”

Bakugo waved his hands wildly, “Like I’ve always said, you’re just a useless waste of space, and now here you are trying to be a wannabe hero. You need to get your head out of your ass unless you want to end up like your pitiful dad. Insignificant, powerless, and dead.”

Izuku couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had just attacked a pro hero, ran directly into an active crime scene, and saved Kacchan from certain death — and this is what he was getting in return? A multitude of emotions flowed through him. Sadness. Anger. Disappointment. Regret. The familiar sting of tears threatened him again. He forced his eyes away from Kacchan and back in the direction of the villain. 

It wasn’t always like this. They were friends once. Their families might as well have been blood-related. They have known each other since birth. Just because Izuku was diagnosed as quirkless, he had become scum in the eyes of Kacchan. So shouldn’t that have all changed when he got his quirk?

It was unfair. For Kacchan to act like this. To hate him for something he couldn’t control. The emotions inside Izuku’s heart battled for control as he gazed into the inferno of his own creation. Who did Kacchan think he was? He wasn’t better than him. They both graduated from the same schools. They have the same grades. Neither of them has accomplished anything grand outside of school to prove their superiority. So who did Kacchan think he was to go around with such an ego and belittle him like this? Belittle his father? Who the fuck makes fun of someone’s dead dad?

Izuku’s face twisted. His eyebrows scrunched together, and his mouth formed a tight frown. Anger had won. 

Through the fire, the sludge villain had composed himself and was now raging towards the two boys. He screamed out, “That hurt, motherfucker! I’ll kill you for that!” 

The villain’s dark green mass had become a shadow in the midst of the flames. A shadowy monstrosity that was barreling towards Izuku like a raging kaiju. He moved effortlessly through the fading flames. Izuku saw his approach but was too lost in his fury to think of a strategy. 

Black goo continually trickled out of his fingertips before wrapping itself tightly around his forearms. With an animalistic battle cry, he ignited his flames — fashioning his arms into two blazing green torches. The stench of his burning uniform filled his nose. 

He unleashed another merciless wave of fire, slowing the villain’s progress. Izuku’s eyes widened as the sludge villain persevered through the flames and readied an attack. He had to do something, or else all of his heroics would be for nothing, and he’d just be a splatter on the wall. He tried intensifying his flames but was met with nothing. His anger built up inside of him. ‘It can’t end like this.’

Exerting his quirk to this extent was not sustainable. He had to find something else. Abruptly, Izuku felt a pull in his gut. It was an intense, raw energy deep within him, something treacherous and buried. Closing his eyes, he dug into that sensation, grappling with the tight, searing pain erupting from his forearms. 

As the sludge villain’s shrunken mass barreled at Izuku, he winced and dropped his left arm to his side, flexing his right arm outwards. With a surge of willpower, he yanked the knot in his stomach to the surface, unleashing Pandora’s Box.

In an unceremonious pop, Izuku’s right forearm vanished. Excruciating pain recoiled throughout Izuku’s body as he let out an inhuman scream. His legs gave out from under him as his entire consciousness was overtaken with agony. His head vibrated with each heartbeat, sloshing his already foggy mental state. He looked in horror at where his arm had been severed. It was uniformly cut. The skin on what was left of his forearm was stretched slightly as if it had been pulled away.

As Izuku fell to the ground, his eyes caught sight of where his hand had once been. In its place was a small black ellipsoid, not much larger than a marble. It was almost invisible in the shadows of the smoke, but its lack of texture alienated it from the soot. The hovering orb appeared as an unsettling, smooth absence in the fabric of the world. 

With a leap, the villain elevated himself high above Izuku’s head. He dawned a wicked grin as his piercing yellow eyes locked onto the source of the fire. Thrashing wildly in the air, he unleashed a flailing tendril towards the ground. Instinctively, Izuku raised his stump to shield his face as he desperately searched for Kacchan with his left. Through the missing limb, however, he caught sight of the midnight ellipsoid making contact with the hurdling sludge appendage. The oblong shape rippled from the impact before rapidly expanding at a rate too fast for the human eye to follow. Instantly, the world evaporated into a flash of white. 

~~~

The walls echoed with the sounds of two slightly desynchronized footfalls. The rhythmic clacks of heels meeting tile made the dreary silence of the hallway unsettling. The static fluorescent lights that shone overhead created a featureless environment that exacerbated the macabre atmosphere. A cheery voice interrupted the ambiance, “Say, Aizawa, don’t you think this place gives you bad vibes? Way too creepy for me, man.”

Shota Aizawa responded with a sigh, “Mic, all hospitals are like this. And don’t call me Aizawa. We’re in our costumes.”

Present Mic let out a loud, boisterous laugh that bounced off the walls, “Don’t be such a downer, no one is here to hear us anyways.” He paused as he looked down an inconspicuous hallway, “Hospitals are the worst. Every time I go to one, I somehow always feel worse than when I enter. Now, how does that make any sense?”

Shota rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. Like usual. Between the start of the school year and his nighttime stakeouts, he just never had any time for it. “You’d have to be crazy to intentionally want to land yourself here. Besides, we’re not here for you in the first place.”

Their conversation paused as they approached a concierge desk. A middle-aged woman with short, graying black hair politely smiled at them from behind an oversized computer monitor, “What can I do for you two heroes?”

Present Mic immediately entered a dramatic lean, “We’re here to talk to a kiddo who turned it up to eleven and landed himself here! I’m Present Mic and this gloomy fellow is Eraser Head. We’re here on behalf of UA. I believe Nezu already sent over all the details.”

The woman gave a quick glance at her computer before giving a small laugh, “Oh yes. We’ve been expecting you two. Nezu already filed all the paperwork for you guys. You’ll want room number 243. It's down that hallway to the right. Take the second corridor on the right, and then the room will be along the left-hand side.”

Present Mic flashed a big grin before thanking the woman and ushering an unenthusiastic Aizawa behind him down a hallway. “You know, Aizawa. If you looked a little less miserable all the time, maybe we’d have an easier way of finding our way around this place. You’ve been scaring off any people we’ve come across. That lady at the desk was the first one we’ve seen who hasn’t immediately walked away from us.”

Shota rolled his eyes. “You try doing hero work after a day teaching a bunch of brats. And then do that every day for a couple of years. You’d be just as miserable. And I don’t agree with Nezu sending us here in the first place. It’s a waste of time.”

Present Mic scoffed, “You just don’t like that Nezu has found another student to torment you.”

Shota couldn’t disagree with that, but there was much more to his chagrin. “Nezu wants to create a hero out of a vigilante. I have plenty of experience with vigilantes, so I’m not exactly filled with confidence.”

“He’s just a kid. He’s got potential and was just trying to -”

Shota interrupted that train of thought, “It doesn’t matter what he was trying to do. What he did was dangerous, and he has several counts of illegal quirk usage, crime scene contamination, and property damage to his name because of it. Not to mention that he’ll be forever reduced to half power. He’d be a liability in the hero course.”

His voice remained firm, but he lowered his volume as the pair approached the right door. As he looked at the room number plaque on the side of the door, he remembered Nezu’s instructions.

~~~

Nezu stood on his desk, happily holding a large stack of papers. “Power Loader has informed me that the robots for the entrance exam are beginning production in his workshop now. The third-year support students are eager to get their hands on the blueprints. I believe they will be fully prepared with plenty of time to spare. Aizawa, how are we doing on the recommendation exam?”

Shota yawned, “I mean, there isn’t a whole lot to change from last year. We already have a couple of student recommendations from pros. Endeavor submitted one for his son, Shoto Todoroki, as soon as our application window opened. We can start adapting the exam’s objectives to fit the prospective students as more are recommended, but for now, I’ve designed a few obstacle courses and fitness assessments that we can use. My only concern is that the recommendation exam is too similar to prior years. If prospective students find out how to prepare from past examinees, then it won’t be a good test of the basics. It’d be a good test of how well they can prepare, but I don’t believe that’s as useful for determining raw potential.”

Nezu flipped through his papers as he jumped off of his desk and onto his raised leather chair. “Hm. I see what you mean. Information gathering is a very useful skill for heroism, and even with the knowledge of what is on the exam, they would still need to perform well. However, that would put the students on an even greater uneven playing field, and we wouldn’t be able to test the baseline abilities of each applicant as accurately. Quite the conundrum.”

Shifting in his chair, Shota continued, “Yes sir, one of my ideas is -”

Suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by the office door wildly swinging open. A blur of bright green flooded in from the doorway. Shota turned to face the intrusion. There, standing eagerly at the entrance to the room, was a wide-eyed woman. Her long green hair went down to her waist, and her clothing was ruffled and unkempt. Her arms were blackened with soot and her eyes were slightly puffy. Had she been crying? She was definitely too old to be a student, and he didn’t recognize her as a staff member. Why was she here?

She quickly broke the silence, “I’m incredibly sorry for my intrusion, but I wish to speak with Nezu. It’s urgent.”

Shota stood up, “Who exactly are you? I don’t recognize you.”

She smiled politely, but he could easily tell it was forced. She bowed, “Tomoko Shiretoko. Or otherwise known as Ragdoll of the Wild Wild Pussy Cats. Pleased to meet you. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, but I need to speak with Nezu.”

Looking behind him at the principal, he was surprised to find Nezu smiling widely. ‘That can’t be good.’

Nezu had turned his monitor around to face the room. On it was a newscast from Tatooin Shopping District, depicting several buildings on fire and a sphere of destruction from a particular alleyway corner. “I assume you’re here about this, Ms. Shiretoko? Do not fret, I have already sent Recovery Girl to assist with the recovery efforts.”

Ragdoll deadpanned, “Thank you, sir, but that wasn’t what I came here for.” She anxiously rubbed her arm, “Nezu, perhaps we could speak in private?”

Nezu smiled jovially as he watched the video recording, “Ah, so I suppose you’re here about our little vigilante, then? And if this is about our little friend, then Aizawa here must listen in. He is the supervisor of first-year students, after all.”

Shota’s gaze was fixed on the monitor’s screen as he sat back down in his chair. He couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing. A green liquified villain had a child held captive inside of it? He noticed from the recording that the heroes were just stalling for time. Surprise overtook him when the video showed another kid in the same uniform as the hostage run into the fray. The kid fought with a pro, won, and then in a series of incredibly destructive events, took down both the villain and half the block. Shota forced his focus back onto Ragdoll.

Ragdoll had a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She looked incredibly tired, something he could relate to. She nervously spoke, “Yes. I’m always caught a bit off guard by your deduction skills. The kid. The one with green hair that ran in and is responsible for the big explosion. I think you’d agree that his stunts today were… alarming. I apologize if this is out of the blue, but I believe that he, and his quirk, need direct supervision from here on out.”

She glanced down and met Shota’s eyes as he questioned, “Supervision? So you want UA to take him?”

“Not necessarily. I do think he needs some guidance for his quirk, however. As it stands right now, I think his quirk is more dangerous than anything, but-”

Nezu interrupted, “You think he has potential.”

Ragdoll winced a bit, “I think he’s powerful. And I think power is dangerous in untrained hands. As he was running into the fight, I caught a glimpse of him. He has more than a run-of-the-mill fire quirk. There’s an unsettling…” she paused, thinking of the best descriptor, “… depth to it. When I used my quirk, Search, on him, my entire body recoiled in shock. My quirk usually alerts me to somebody’s whereabouts, weaknesses, and abilities, but with the boy, I didn’t receive much of anything. Nothing about his weaknesses, and more oddly, his quirk kept shifting in my mind. I’ve never experienced that before.”

Halfway through Ragdoll’s explanation, Nezu turned his monitor back around to face himself and began furiously typing. Now that she had finished talking, he had turned it back over for them to see. Shota raised an eyebrow. It was a government file on the boy with green hair from the video. ‘I don’t even want to know how Nezu got this.’

Nezu talked excitedly while fidgeting with his tea kettle in the corner of the room, “Izuku Midoriya. Middle schooler at Aldera Junior High. He’s a late bloomer who developed his quirk at the age of 12. Late bloomers are one thing, but to manifest a quirk at 12 is unheard of.”

Nezu paused before reading the file, “Quirk, ‘Flaming Charcoal,’ is a dual-use quirk. The main ability is to dispense flames from his hands and mouth, but there is a secondary ability to secrete an undefined charcoal-colored liquid that can be used as an oil.” 

Nezu turned back from his teapot and poured a cup. “It’s quite the quirk. But I doubt you’d come all the way to UA to complain about your quirk malfunctioning, right? If that were it, then we’d be done here and once our little vigilante recovers, he would be charged and convicted of several felonies.” He held out the cup to Ragdoll, “Tea?”

Shota stifled a smirk as Ragdoll nervously accepted the tea and took a seat in the empty chair beside him. She took a moment to look at Shota before continuing her description of the events, “When I analyze someone, a description of their quirk appears in my mind, but with the kid, the description kept changing. Because of this, I think using my quirk on him triggered my fight-or-flight response. Search didn’t know what to make of it, so it panicked and tapped into my nervous system. Now, my quirk is not a danger-sensing quirk, so for it to react in this way is very strange. My quirk has only reacted in a vaguely similar way with All Might.”

That last line got Shota’s mind racing. Her quirk has only reacted with All Might before now? So what does that imply for the boy? He asked, “Wait, wait, wait. You’re saying this middle schooler who blew up a couple of storefronts is just as dangerous as All Might? All Might, who can change the weather with a single punch? Sorry, but that seems a bit outlandish.”

Ragdoll sharply responded, “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that Midoriya triggered a similar reaction in my quirk that All Might did. I’m not proposing that the boy has power comparable to All Might. I don’t know what the common link between them is, but I have serious doubts anyone will ever be able to match All Might’s strength.”

Shota shifted in his chair, sitting up and straightening his back. The conversation had gone from intriguing to precarious very quickly. He looked at Ragdoll skeptically, “So what is your goal here then? Clearly, there is a reason for you being here. Do you want Nezu to pull strings with the police department and grant the kid amnesty? Maybe you want UA to enroll the boy, no questions asked? We have strict laws against quirk usage for a reason. We can’t bend the law when it’s convenient for us. Thanks to this Midoriya kid, half an alley is gone. That’s a perfect exampl-”

Nezu who had been uncharacteristically quiet, all of a sudden clapped his paws together, stopping Shota’s tirade. “Ms Shiretoko is right. I’ll see what I can do.”

Shota was actually shocked. He knew that Nezu had no problem bending the law, but for him to agree so readily was surprising. “Sir, you can’t be serious. If Midoriya is as dangerous as she makes him out to be, then maybe a rehabilitation facility is where he should be.”

Nezu jumped down from his desk to the floor, landing on all fours before standing up again and pacing the room with his paws behind his back. “He’s dangerous, yes, but a prison is not where he should be.” The stout clicked a small pawheld remote, and the monitor switched to a street view video camera of the villain attack. Nezu paused it on a scene of Midoriya clutching a blond kid with one arm. “Although the audio is a bit fuzzy, I can surmise that these two boys know each other. Young Midoriya was simply saving his friend. Midoriya observed his friend dying and the pros being unable to stop it. The boy, regardless of legality, was the hero of this encounter. UA is a beacon of society, promising bright futures and powerful heroes. If we were to forsake the potential of a fledgling hero like Midoriya, it would be unbecoming of us.”

Shota stammered, “Sir, I still don’t thin-”

Nezu interrupted him again, “Aizawa, tomorrow go to the hospital and meet with our young hero. And bring Yamada. From the looks of the video, Midoriya will need some cheering up. He did lose half an arm, after all.” Nezu’s gaze fixed on Ragdoll, “And Ms. Shiretoko, please clean up and then return here. I’d love to discuss your experience more. I’d also like to discuss with you a possible solution to the legal issues young Midoriya will face.”

~~~

Shota shook himself back to the present and knocked on the door. He looked at the goofy blonde next to him. “Mic, I know you saw the clip of the boy on our way here, but we don’t know what kind of emotional state he’s in. So don’t rush in and throw everything at him at once. Ragdoll somehow convinced Nezu that Midoriya is worth training. Regardless of my own beliefs about the situation, we need to go in there and evaluate him. Let me verify his mental state and his aptitude for heroics. I’ll make the decision whether we offer the kid Nezu’s crazy scheme, got it?”

Present Mic punched his shoulder, “Oh, c’mon, Sleepy Head. He’s just a kid who went 'Plus Ultra' to save his friend. Successfully too! Buildings can be rebuilt in a day or two with today’s quirks, and I’m sure those shop owners had insurance. No amount of quirks, money, or time would’ve brought that other boy back to life. I say that he did the right thing. Maybe the rat sees something in him that’s worth checking out. Lighten up a bit.” 

There was a quiet feminine response from the other side of the door, telling them to come in. Present Mic leveled with him, “Do you want me to lead?”

Shota begrudgingly nodded his head. Present Mic hummed as he opened the door. The light of the room matched the monotonous fluorescence of the hallways, but despite the harsh lighting, the room was particularly downcast. Present Mic displayed a warm, sincere smile as he led the way into the room. A short woman with dark green hair and eyes that looked nearly as tired as his own stood at the end of the bed, ushering the two men in. ‘This must be the mother.’ 

“Oh my,” the mother gasped. “We weren’t expecting any visitors, much less two pro heroes! Please, come in.”

Once he passed the entrance, he got a good look at the rest of the room. On the far wall was a small, nightstand-esque table, and a couple of cheap chairs accompanying it. Tied to each chair were several balloons wishing the kid a quick recovery. To the right, near the door, were multiple IV stands and monitors that he didn’t recognize. 

Shota’s eyes traced one of the IV tubes to the boy’s left arm, where he finally took in the sight of the bed. The younger Midoriya was propped up and staring directly at him, astonished. Strikingly, what caught Shota the most off guard was that there was no sign of the green bush of hair he’d seen in the video clips. The poor guy had a buzz cut. ‘If he has a buzz cut, then he probably also needed a head operation.’

The mother introduced herself, “I’m sure you two already know this if you’re here, but I’m Inko Midoriya and this here on the bed is my son Izuku. I’m pleased to meet you two!”

“Hello Mrs. Midoriya. I’m sure this is quite the surprise, but after we heard about yesterday, we wanted to stop by and see how everything is going.” Present Mic briefly introduced themselves.

Anything Present Mic said afterward was drowned out as Shota’s eyes followed the kid’s skinny body to where he knew the right forearm was missing. However, he was met with a slight lean and the bedsheets shoved upwards to cover up the missing appendage. There were bandages wrapped around the elbow that gave it away, though. ‘Must be shy about it. It’s only been a day, I guess.’

Present Mic’s mirthful voice eased the growing tension in the room as he addressed Izuku, “Hey there kiddo! We’re just checkin in on ya.” He motioned over to Shota, “Don’t mind my gloomy friend here, he’s-”

The boy beamed ecstatically and yelled out, “Eraser Head! The underground hero who can disable quirks! And you’re Present Mic! You can amplify your voice! I love your radio show! I listen in every week! After what I did, I’m surprised to see…” His voice trailed off and a hint of suspicion texturized his tone. “I’m not dying, am I? This isn’t one of those pity hero appearances before a kid dies, right?”

Shota had to prevent a small smile from tarnishing his impassive face. Forcing himself to ignore the boy’s ominous conclusion, he decided to get straight to the point. “No. That’s not it. We’re here on official business with UA High School. As we are the largest acting hero authority in the area, we were put in charge of handling portions of the Tatooin Shopping District case. Our job is to discuss with you what happened during your encounter with the sludge villain.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Shota could see Present Mic wincing at his bluntness. The mother’s eyes grew big and tears started welling up in her eyes, but she remained silent as he took a chair and brought it close to the hospital bed. Shota watched Izuku’s expressions closely. From the joyous outburst upon their arrival, he figured Izuku was still immature and wouldn’t take the subject change well. Interestingly, however, the boy’s face hardened and became neutral. ‘One hell of a poker face for a kid. I’ll give him that much.’ 

Izuku spoke up once with a steeled tone, “Are you here to bring me to jail then?”

Present Mic chuckled nervously as he looked at the mom, “Wrong again, buddy. We’re not taking you in. We’re actually here because we caught wind that you were quite the hero out there! You want to be a hero, right?”

Shota watched as Present Mic leaned closer to Izuku and in a soft voice whispered, “Between you and me, kid, this is more of a scouting visit.”

What was he thinking? Giving that away would only influence Izuku’s responses about the whole situation. Shota quickly jammed the heel of his shoe into Present Mic’s toes before quietly chastising him, “Mic.”

The two men watched as Izuku froze and then subsequently shifted his facial expressions. In real-time, they were able to watch the boy go through all six stages of grief in a matter of seconds. It was almost strange to observe, as you could practically see the wheels turning in the kid’s head. ‘I guess he really wears his heart on his sleeve.’

After a moment, Izuku averted his gaze from the pros and solemnly muttered, “Well, you’re in the wrong place then. I can’t be a hero. Not anymore, at least.” The blankets that had previously covered his amputated arm fell away as he lifted his arm up slightly in the air, brandishing it for the heroes to see. 

From the side, Shota could hear the mom let out an affectionate, “Oh honey.” 

Present Mic immediately stood up, “Nonsense, little hero! I know the wound is fresh, but don’t give up now! I know plenty of pros with amputations. Even one of me and Grumpy’s coworkers is an amputee. You may already know of him, but Ectoplasm is a teacher at UA and the ol’ pirate has two peg legs. So don’t let your missing hand stop you!”

A small smile graced the boy’s lips, but it didn’t meet the eyes. He obviously had doubts. At least in that sense, he and the kid were in agreement. Shota cleared his throat, “As skeptical as I am about your hero potential due to your blatant vigilantism, a missing hand is not an insurmountable obstacle. You’re a bit on the flimsy side of things, but if you’re serious about being a hero, there’s hope for you yet. The entrance exams for UA are in ten months, so if you wish to continue recklessly rushing into active crime scenes, then pass that and meet us at UA.” He paused to gauge the expression on the boy’s face. It wasn’t ecstatic, but at least he wasn’t crying. “For now, though, let’s discuss the villain attack. Let’s begin when you ran into the fight. Why?”

Izuku’s expression returned to the poker face that he had worn previously. He was clearly trying to go about this as carefully and professionally as he could. The erratic voice that he expected to accompany an emotionally charged story like the sludge villain didn’t come, instead, Izuku spoke with a measured and stoic inflection, “Well, I don’t remember the exact details, but I was just grocery shopping before I noticed the formation of a crowd. Naturally, I went to see what was happening, so I could record the fight in one of my journals. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd and saw the sludge villain and a majority of the heroes just standing around or looking lost. Then as the fight progressed, I saw the flash of a small explosion, and then I saw Kacc- Katsuki Bakugo being enveloped by the villain and I just…” 

He paused, with the first hint of emotion finally showing, “In that moment, my body just moved on its own…”

Chapter Text

Izuku felt his chest heave unevenly as he tried his hardest to suppress the well of emotions rising in his throat. His recount of the villain attack had gone smoothly, up until the verbal tussle with Kacc- Katsuki. The poker face he had put on was faltering, and he knew that the pro heroes were noticing. ‘ Dammit, Izuku. Get your shit together. You can deal with the fucked up psyche of Katsuki later. Right now, you have to prove to possibly the grumpiest hero in Japan that you are worth a spot at UA. Don’t. Fuck. This. Up. ’

Resting his remaining hand on the bridge of his nose, Izuku shut his eyes and acted like as if he was attempting to remember details of the fight. The facade was clever, but hardly effective. As soon as he paused to breath, he felt a gentle hand rest on his right shoulder. Present Mic’s voice soothingly whispered, “It’s ok, kid. What you went through was stressful. Don’t hurt yourself trying to sort through all your emotions at once.”

With a deep breath and a glance to his missing forearm, Izuku continued his story in as strong of a voice as he could muster, “It’s alright Present Mic. I can handle it. Right, so Katsuki Bakugo was laying down, propped up on the alley wall behind us. I had been turned around to face where I had last seen the slime villain and it became obvious to me that the fire wall I had set up was wearing thin. I could hear the sludge evaporating off of the villain’s body, but he just kept approaching. I was out of options, so I panicked and pushed every ounce of power I had out all at once.”

Izuku’s voice adopted an accelerated staccato, “I’m sure that alone was enough to cause a lot of damage to the surrounding buildings, but by this point my fight or flight response was going haywire. I knew that if I didn’t do something, then me and Katsuki would’ve died — and all of my actions would’ve been for nothing. Anyways, when he got within striking distance…”

Izuku paused to catch his breath and to look back at Eraser Head. The man was staring at him intently, but his expression was still irritatingly hard to read. His unkempt mop of hair left stands to shield his eyes, but even through the obstruction, Izuku could clearly sense the severe scrutiny. It was unsettling to know just how thoroughly he was being inspected. One slip up and he’d have no chance of getting into UA. No chance of being the hero his dad entrusted him to become. 

Coughing to clear his throat, Izuku prepared the final part of the story. It was what the pros actually cared about. “When the villain finally broke through the flames and got close enough to prepare an attack, I felt something inside of me become agitated. I was desperate, so I relied on that feeling and held out my right hand. I thought I was gonna use some extra strong flames, but instead I felt the charcoal substance that enveloped my arm constrict. There was an audible popping sound as my arm vanished. It was all a blur and couldn’t have lasted more than a second or two, but I think I saw a dark orb no bigger than a marble where my hand had been. It just kind of floated there until one of the sludge tendrils hit it. I immediately passed out, so I don’t remember anything, but I saw the news. Apparently, I caused half the alley to explode. I swear I didn’t do that intentionally.”

The room remained quiet now that the story had been finished, only the mechanical hum of miscellaneous hospital equipment filling the void. Izuku wondered how his mom was staying so composed. When he had told her the story earlier, she had been inconsolable. The expression she currently wore was clearly distressed, but thankfully she wasn’t bawling her eyes out. Momentarily inspecting his mom, it was clear that she wasn’t doing well. Her eyes were in a constant state of puffiness, her hair was a mess, and her clothes were disheveled. She had spent the night in an uncomfortable hospital chair, after all. A pang of guilt flowed through Izuku’s chest before he focussed back on the conversation. Present Mic looked sympathetic and had removed his iconic sunglasses but remained silent. It was clearly Eraser Head’s responsibility to figure the situation out.

Eraser Head continued staring at him for an uncomfortably long moment before leaning back into his chair and indifferently asking, “I see. My condolences for the hand. So, starting from the beginning. Katsuki Bakugo, the kid you saved. Is he a friend of yours? Records show that he also attends Aldera Junior High.”

Izuku shifted in his bed awkwardly. Who was Katsuki Bakugo to him? I mean, just off the fact that he refers to him by his first name was a clear indicator of something. But even that was a recent change. For as long as Izuku could remember he had always been ‘Kacchan’, but ever since their fight during the chaos of the villain attack, something had changed. They had been going at each other’s throats for years now and, for even longer, Katsuki had despised his very existence. Nevertheless, Izuku had still felt a sense of closeness to him, as if he was a kindred spirit. A small part of him always longed for the day when they’d fix whatever rift had come between them, but yesterday had twisted something in his gut. 

He remembered the feral visage Katsuki had adorned after ripping him away from the sludge villain’s control. It had confused him at first, but the screaming made something abundantly clear — there was no saving their relationship. If Katsuki wasn’t willing to make amends on death’s door, then there would never be reconciliation between them. Izuku had put his life on the line and lost a hand for him. Not even a  ‘thank you’ was given in return. 

Earlier, the nurse had told him that Katsuki had already been discharged. Maybe if he had made an effort to at least see him or ask about how his arm was doing, then things would’ve been different. But he hadn’t. He just left, without a word.

The familiar burn of anger consumed his thoughts. Katsuki had been nothing but an asshole to him for almost a decade now. Izuku wasn’t even sure if he deserved to be saved. Not by him, at the very least. There was no going back to how things were when they were kids. Izuku understood that now. ‘Kacchan’ was a name of endearment he coined as a toddler, it wasn’t something that the current Katsuki earned. Even referring to him by his first name felt wrong and left a stale taste on his tongue. 

So who was Katsuki Bakugo to him? An asshole. Why he had rushed in so eagerly to save him was beyond Izuku’s current realm of understanding. He had broken so many laws in the process and he could’ve been killed at any moment during that fight. Was it worth it? Izuku really didn’t know. If he didn’t do anything, All Might would’ve just come in a few minutes later and have saved the day anyway. That’s what Katsuki wanted in the first place, right? There was no point for him to rush into the fight. But at the same time, what if the villain finally managed to kill Katsuki in the few minutes it took All Might to arrive? If he hadn’t rushed in, Izuku might have had to live with the guilt of doing nothing for the rest of his life. He wasn’t sure that was something he could stomach.

Izuku realized he must have made a face at Eraser Head’s question when the man nodded, “Let me guess, it’s complicated?”

Izuku glanced towards his mother, who stared back at him with wide green eyes. She knew that he and Katsuki didn’t get along perfectly well, but she had only heard about one or two fights between them. There was no way for her to know the kind of hell that Katsuki put him through. And he would never tell her — not when her best friend was said bully’s mom. If Izuku told his mom anything, he knew that his mom would tell Aunt Mitsuki everything. That would just make everything worse. “Yeah. It’s something like that.”

Eraser Head continued, “Alright then. How about that black substance of yours? How does that work in general, and what do you think happened right before you lost consciousness?”

Izuku smiled softly, “Well, it’s embarrassing, but I actually don’t know a whole lot about it. I mean, clearly. I’d still two hands if I did.”

Izuku took the silence that followed as a sign that older people had no sense of humor. “Anyway, I don’t really know much about it. I know that it acts similar to an oil and that it reacts to my flames. It comes out of my fingertips and tends to coat my entire hand. I can also slightly move it to and from my hands telekinetically. My mom can do that with small objects, so I assume it is somewhat related to that. As for what the substance is made out of, I suspect it is closely tied to the material that shield my insides from my own internal heat. My dad had an internal substance that did the same thing, but he couldn’t secrete it. He never got it examined, though, so he never really knew what it was made out of. I’m guessing it wasn’t too different from mine. I’ve heard from my doctor that it is dense with barium, but that isn’t really help-”

Eraser Head broke Izuku’s train of thought, “That’s enough. You’re starting to mumble. Just tell me what happened to it in the attack.”

“Right. Um, well, as I mentioned before, the substance had enveloped my hands. Both of them. And then when I tried to go Plus Ultra, I felt a sharp tug on my arm where the substance had been and it just disappeared. The arm was cut cleanly through, like it had no resistance. I was, you know, on the verge of passing out, so I didn’t get a good look at anything, but I’m fairly sure the substance shrunk alongside my arm into a marble. My theory is that my telekinetic control over the substance went haywire and just shrunk itself.”

Izuku surveyed his audience. His mom had her head in her hands. Present Mic had a look of disgust on his face, but a ghost of his pleasant smile persisted. Eraser Head was staring at him intently with the same unwavering blank expression. Izuku had no idea if any of what he was saying made sense to him. “What was interesting was that that weird black orb just hovered there for a moment. It just stayed still until one of the villain’s arms hit it and that’s when it exploded, Or at least, that’s what I think happened, I wasn’t exactly awake for it. And if it exploded on contact, then it had to have been a pressure based explosion, which makes sense if the air, my hand, and my flames all got shrunken to the size of a marble. Once the villain touched it, it probably released the energy that had been stored and it all kind of exploded at once. Since the substance itself is known to react to my flames, I bet there was some kind of chemical reaction mixed into it as well, but that’s all just theory at that point.”

What felt like the millionth silence of the visit filled the room. Present Mic was the first one to respond in his usual upbeat tone, “Wow, kiddo, you’ve sure got a good head on your shoulders. I would have never been able to think of all that at your age. And it’s only been a day since the accident! Don’t know if it’s scary or impressive you’ve already analyzed everything this much after something so traumatic.”

Izuku said nothing, but slightly smiled towards the cheery hero. He appreciated the words and would have been over the moon to hear them at any other point in his life, but right now, Present Mic wasn’t the one who would make or break his hero career. Eraser Head nodded thoughtfully, pondering the new information he had just heard. The whole world seemed to slow down as the room waited for the dreary hero to respond. “Well. Present Mic is right. You’re smart, Izuku. Your analysis of the situation is more than I had anticipated coming in. It’ll help a lot with the paperwork.”

He took that moment to lean back into his chair, crossing his arms in the process. “But this story also only confirmed to me what I had already expected. You’re reckless and barely have any control over your quirk. You seem to have a good grasp on understanding your quirk, but your actual discipline is nonexistent. As it is right now, I wouldn’t allow you to enter UA. It would be too dangerous for yourself and others.”

The hero paused again and appraised Izuku, who had just felt the full weight of the world crash down upon him. While he remained stiff in his expressions, Izuku was a mess on the inside. Eraser Head continued, “That isn’t even mentioning the damages you caused and the several crimes you committed that would establish you as a felon. And trust me when I say that UA does not accept convicted felons. If you want to be a hero, you need to grow tremendously in both decision-making and quirk-control.”

Present Mic coughed awkwardly and softly kicked Eraser Head’s leg as the tension in the room rose to uncomfortable levels, “Aizawa. If you’re gonna get to it, get to it.” 

A cold side-eye from Eraser Head shut up his compatriot, “As I was saying. Izuku, you’re talented, I won’t deny that, but as it stands you’re also a massive liability.” 

He leaned forward in his chair and settled a heavy stare onto Izuku, “Fortunately for you, however, you’ve garnered some attention from powerful places. During the fight yesterday, you caught the eye of the Wild Wild Pussy Cats. Hard not to when you gave one of their members second degree burns. They reached out to UA and petitioned that you would be pardoned from the crimes you committed. They also recognized your innate ability and suggested that UA get involved. Against better judgement, Principal Nezu agreed and contacted the Musutafu Police Department. Thus, you have been given an opportunity at redemption.”

Eraser Head sighed, “The police department agreed to be lenient on you, but they refused to let you off outright. This incident will not be on your permanent record and it will be officially reported that All Might saved you and Katsuki Bakugo before defeating the slime villain. It has also been decided that you will serve out a sentence of 12 months on house arrest and undergo regular psych evaluations. Quirk counseling is also required of you during this time period. Additionally, the expenses for the damages incurred during the attack will be covered by UA. Do you understand?”

Izuku was at a loss. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t form on his tongue correctly. His mind swam erratically as he digested what he had just heard. The all too familiar sting of tears threatened to break his stoic facade. He wasn’t going to prison! And this wasn’t even going on his permanent record! And he didn’t have to pay for the damages he caused! A year of house arrest sucked, but it was nothing compared to a lifetime as a felon. Izuku nodded his head absentmindedly while he considered the repercussions of these conditions.

Present Mic took that moment to budge into the conversation with a low tone that inverted his typical joyous tone, “That is all true. You should consider yourself lucky, kid. You committed some crazy crimes there and you’re getting off very easy for what happened. If you ever meet Principal Nezu, you should thank him. He’s the one that has been pulling all the strings for you. I can’t tell you if it is a good or bad thing, but you’ve successfully caught the interest of one of the smartest living beings in Japan.”

Much to Izuku’s confusion, Eraser Head just rolled his eyes, “Mic, let me finish. Izuku, he is right. You’ve caught the attention of the principal. While under normal circumstances, that would be a bad thing, in this case, you’re lucky. He is extending an offer to you. He feels that you spending the next year on house arrest would be a waste of time. So in typical Nezu fashion, he’s designed a deal.”

“Instead of serving a full year of house arrest at your home, Nezu has come upon an agreement with the police department to lessen your sentence by two months. However, in exchange for the two months, you must spend the next ten months under direct pro hero supervision. If you accept this offer, it has been arranged for the Wild Wild Pussy Cats to take you in for the duration of your sentence. As idiotic as it seems, you left quite the impression on them and they were eager to help you out. They will monitor you and help you control your quirk. Ultimately, the choice is yours on which sentence you choose to take, but if you want to be a hero, I think the answer is obvious.”

Izuku let out a nervous laugh. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘ I must have actually died in that fight with the sludge villain, because there is no way this is happening right now. I mean, what kind of offer is that? Definitely not one the school hands out often. ’  

 “That, uh. That doesn’t make sense. This seems more like a reward than a punishment. And why would the principal of UA do so much on my behalf just to lessen the sentence by two months?”

Eraser Head ran a hand through his mess of hair, “Your guess is as good as mine. As for the shortening of the sentence, it is so that you can take the UA entrance exams. To me, it seems like Nezu’s interest in you and his willingness to cover for you financially is a gamble on your ability to get into UA. He must see something in you in order for him to go out on a limb like this. Just consider this your lucky break.”

For the first time in this conversation, Inko stepped in to interrogate the heroes, “Wait, wait, wait. So your plan is to just wipe the entire slate clean and then have my son train to become a hero on the whim of some principal who has never even met Izuku?” Her eyes darted between the heroes, “That seems incredibly vague and as if this principal is abusing his influence with the police department. And for what? For the sake of cornering Izuku into becoming a pet project? I’m not sure if I’m sold on this whole story.”

Izuku tilted his head to look at the staredown between Eraser Head and his mom. His mom had brought up exactly what had been running through his mind. This isn’t a normal reaction to a kid committing unauthorized quirk usage. There had to be more to this whole situation. 

Present Mic chimed in, “Mrs. Midoriya, I can assure you that the UA faculty only wishes to see your son succeed. We are giving you the option to have Izuku shorten his sentence while furthering his development as a fledgling hero. You don’t need to take it. The principal has an eye for talent and if he has taken an interest in Izuku, then I am sure that he wants nothing more than to have the opportunity to train the boy himself at UA. We would never abuse our power of authority to influence your decisions or to control Izuku’s future. Wiping the slate clean is an act of goodwill so that your son doesn’t have the label of criminal hanging above him for the rest of his life.”

Inko’s eyes lost a shade of aggressiveness, but she still wasn’t satisfied, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m appreciative of all that you guys have done for me and Izuku, but this isn’t a normal thing for the school to do. I trust that you only have good intentions in mind, but the principal scouting my son after the worst day of his life and then offering aid both financially and academically is suspicious. It is too good to be true. There has to be something else going on here.”

Eraser Head flicked stray hairs out of his face and sat up straight in his chair before assuring Inko, “I understand your concerns, Mrs. Midoriya. I will be honest, I’ve never heard of such an arrangement between UA and the police department happening before, either, so your trepidation is valid. I am also in the dark on Nezu’s curiosity in your son. However, I do know that whatever his rationale is, it is for a good reason. Everything Nezu does is for a purpose. As a teacher for the first year hero course, my best guess is that the strength in Izuku’s quirk has raised concerns for the safety of himself and those around him. I believe Nezu is trying to help Izuku control his quirk before there becomes an incident even worse than what happened yesterday.” 

Inko pursed her lips and let out a short hum before responding, “I can see why that might be a concern, but my son isn’t some loose cannon. And why would Izuku have to go off with non-UA affiliated heroes in order to appease this 10 month option? We live close to UA. Why can’t his pro supervision be done there?”

Izuku’s eyes darted between the arguing adults. Frankly, his mom had raised several good points. The entire situation did seem kind of sketchy once he moved past the heroic idealism. There was no way UA would have the police clear him of criminal charges without an ulterior motive. He also suspected that Eraser Head was telling the truth. He doubted either of the two heroes knew what was happening to that extent. It was clear now that them visiting him was not of their own volition. 

Principal Nezu is playing some sort of game here, but there was no way of knowing what it was or why he was doing it. From what he knew about the man-stout, he would never come close to knowing the truth if Nezu didn’t want him to. The only way of finding out would be to continue going along with it. 

While undoubtedly shady, Izuku figured that going along with it wouldn’t be the worst move to make. There was no clear downside at the moment for accepting the proposed offer. It would give him direct training of his quirk by a group of pro heroes and would also put him in a good position to get into UA. He was sure that there would be some stipulations to come down the road, but opposing Nezu’s scheming right now would be a mistake.

Turning to face his mom, Izuku gently nudged his mom’s arm, “Mom. I know it seems strange for this to happen, but we can’t let this opportunity go to waste. If UA is willing to help me escape this mess with not only a clean slate, but a path to improve my quirk, I don’t think we should shoot it down. Regardless of what the principal wants from me, I attacked a pro hero and blew up an alleyway. Things could be a lot worse.”

Inko’s head tilted in sympathy for her son as she softly rubbed her thumb on the back of his palm, “Oh honey…” She turned to the sleep-deprived hero, “If Izuku does take the offer and goes to the Wild Wild Pussy Cats, then how will he finish school? And when would he be expected to leave?”

Still exhibiting an unreadable expression, Eraser Head adjusted his scarf as he responded, “Firstly, we cannot allow non-UA students or staff onto campus for security reasons. Additionally, it would be perceived as favoritism by the public if we allowed Izuku access to the campus’ facilities. If he were to apply to UA in the next entrance cycle and UA accepts him, it would appear as if we allowed him in based on bias and not of his own potential as a hero. Not only would UA be heavily scrutinized for malpractice, but your son would be ostracized by his peers.” 

He paused and switched his gaze back to Izuku, as if he was making a specific point, “Furthermore, serving his house arrest sentence under the Wild Wild Pussy Cats is a completely separate ordeal that has nothing to do with UA. It is purely a deal between the Musutafu Police Department and the Wild Wild Pussy Cats. Nezu is acting as an independent coordinator between the two. Officially, UA High School has no involvement in this. Present Mic and I are here on account of the Musutafu Police Department using UA as an extension of their own power.”

A heavy gaze was cast by the gloomy hero to the Midoriyas. Izuku clearly understood the message being sent here. This wasn’t something that they wanted to be traced back to UA. He could sympathize with that decision. The entire nation would be in an uproar if UA started accepting based on bias over talent. If everyday kids were being restricted from spots at the nation’s top hero academy because seats were reserved for the children of pro heroes, then the public would lose hope in hero society as a whole. The heroic dreams of the youth would be irreversibly damaged if they believed that, regardless of their efforts, someone from a higher privilege would prevent them from being accepted into the hero program. 

When the ‘recommendation student’ program emerged, there was a harsh backlash from the public for the same reasons. It was common practice for decades for children of established pro heroes to take the general entrance exams with the rest of the public so that they would not have any preferential treatment. There was a problem with that model of testing though — children of pro heroes are more experienced, better trained, and have distinct genetic advantages over the rest of the applicants. It wasn't obvious at first, but after several years of statistics, it was clear that hero course acceptances were becoming dominated by legacy heroes. When the media brought this discrepancy to the public's attention, it sparked a heated debate on the legitimacy of hero course selections and how 'fair' the whole thing was. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, UA had come up with a controversial solution. Separate the general exam from the exams for the children of pro heroes and otherwise more adept applicants. The public backlash to this decision was severe, but once UA established a limit of four recommendation students per year, the criticisms slowly faded. Despite the program's success over the years, however, if the public caught wind that an applicant received direct training from UA and then got accepted right after, it would become a PR nightmare.

Eraser Head continued, “Rest assured that during the ten weeks Izuku spends away from home, he will still be receiving adequate schooling. The current plan is to have him homeschooled online. The pro heroes he will be staying with are more than capable of helping Izuku in anything he may struggle with. However, after hearing his breakdown of the fight, I don’t think you will have to worry about his academic abilities. If you accept the offer, he will be leaving Monday morning. The doctors say that he should be discharged by the end of the week. Detective Tamagawa will oversee your transportation to your residence. Izuku, you’d be expected to remain in the house at all times until Monday morning, when Detective Tamagawa will pick you up from your home and supervise your transport to the Wild Wild Pussy Cat’s headquarters.”

The pro hero nudged Present Mic, who swiftly stood up as well before handing a business card to Inko. Eraser Head made it clear that they were leaving, “Please respond by the end of the day with your decision. And Izuku, if I haven’t made it abundantly clear already, you will have no preferential status with UA. This procedure is purely between the police and the Wild Wild Pussy Cats. If you want to get into UA, you will have to do it of your own ability.”

With that, the two heroes made their way to the entrance to the room, their shoes clacking against the tiled floor. They both turned and bowed before Present Mic dawned his glasses once again and gave Izuku a thumbs up paired with a large grin. Without another word, they both left the room, leaving the Midoriyas to stare at the empty doorway in a stupor. 

After a beat, Izuku joked, “Mom? I think I just had the most elaborate hallucination in history.”

Inko’s thousand yard stare didn’t waver as she muttered, “You don’t say…”

Izuku pointed his nub toward the door, “So we are both in agreement that something fishy is going on?”

Inko smiled widely, “Oh absolutely. This is simultaneously the best and most worrisome news I’ve heard in at least the past 12 hours. The fact you’re getting your record wiped clean is astonishing, but I don’t like how even these heroes didn’t know the full extent of the situation.”

“Yeah. Eraser Head is so cool though.”

Inko laughed, “You’re always a sucker for the underground heroes, Izuku. How do you feel about everything? You’re only a day removed from the incident and there's already more problems to deal with.”

Izuku looked down at his arm. Reality hadn’t quite jostled its way into place yet. Everything past his elbow was gone, but unless he was physically looking at it, it felt like it was still there. Since he had been cooped up in a hospital bed all this time, he still didn’t know what daily tasks were now going to be the bane of his existence. Losing his dominant hand is unfortunate, but he had seen videos online of people training themselves to become ambidextrous, so he figured he would be able to do the same in time. 

“Honestly, if this is what it costs to become a hero, I’m not sure whether it's worth it.” 

Inko cupped Izuku's cheek, “I’m sorry baby. I know this is horrible, but you’re the smartest person I know. If there’s anyone who can make the most out of this, it’s you. And besides, you saved Katsuki. I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t see your hesitation earlier. I know there’s stuff between you two that you aren’t telling me, but saving his life will always be the right thing to do and I’m so proud of you for it. Even if it was extremely dangerous and highly illegal.”

Izuku laughed bitterly at her last retort, “Yeah. I think what is done is done and looking back on it isn’t going to help me. I should take that offer to get trained with the Wild Wild Pussy Cats. Eraser Head might’ve been right. Maybe I am a danger to people around me. And if I am, then it's my responsibility to make sure I train so that a situation like this never happens again.”

“So noble.” Inko pinched Izuku’s cheek, “I’m going to miss you, though. What am I supposed to do all alone for an entire year? What if that pesky principal will start scheming again.”

“Oh, you can always bet on Nezu scheming. He’s the smartest mammal in Japan by a landslide. I just hope that whatever he has in store for me isn’t too bad. And besides, I’m pretty certain he’ll only become a pain in my side if I end up getting into UA.” Izuku wrapped his mom in a hug with his left arm, “Hopefully you’ll find something to do while I’m gone. I’m sure Auntie Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru would love to hang out.”

Izuku considered that for another second, “Actually, please don’t tell the Bakugos where I’ll be going. I know I haven’t told you what has been going on between me and Katsuki, but I don’t want him knowing what I am up to.”

Inko looked up at Izuku from the embrace with a mix of concern and curiosity, but the expression on her son’s face told her that it's not something he was ready to discuss, “Alright honey, I won’t tell them. I’ll say you’re off with our extended family.”

Izuku smiled softly. He really did have the most understanding mother. “Thanks mom.”

Chapter Text

As soon as the door shut behind them, Shota Aizawa was shoved forcibly from the side, sending him stumbling. He quickly regained balance before snapping his neck to his compatriot, “Mic! What the hell?”

The blonde hero let out an exaggerated exhalation, “You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that? That was a kid who literally just lost his hand. Can you imagine what that must have been like? He’s what? 13 or 14? And you came in a day later and acted like the world will fall apart because of him. Not cool man.”

Shota brushed his hair backward with a huff as they carried on down the hospital hallway, “Don’t be ridiculous. I had to show him that his actions have consequences, and that just because he acted like a hero doesn’t mean he is one. It’s better for him to engrave that into his psyche now than for another residential shopping center to get blown up.”

“Still, there were better ways of going about it. So much for ‘not throwing everything at him at once’. You laid it on plenty thick there. I’m honestly impressed the kid didn’t start bawling his eyes out with the glares you were throwing his way. Vigilante or not, he did save that kid’s life and from that story of his, he seems plenty capable of becoming a hero to me.”

Instead of responding, Shota fixed his focus on the concierge desk he and Mic visited in the distance. The woman from earlier was still fixed to her computer, and a couple of nurses were bunched together discussing something. A new stretcher had appeared in the hallway alongside a doorway into a patient's room. Shota looked away and towards the ground in front of him. He hated hospitals. The constant glare of the fluorescent lights reflecting off of the buffed hospital flooring and white walls was giving him a headache. Not to mention how the scent of chemicals and lemons irritated him to no end. The two walked in silence through another corridor before a sly, mischievous smirk grew on Present Mic’s lips, “So? What did you think?”

Shota rolled his eyes. He knew this was coming. “I think he’s just as I said he was. Impulsive and a liability. He let himself get caught in the moment and didn’t even think before rushing in to save a kid he doesn’t even like.”

Present Mic brushed off his leather jacket with a swipe before turning to Shota, “What do you mean for a kid he doesn’t like? That blonde kid is his friend, isn’t he?”

Shota shook his head, “No. From what I could tell from his retelling and the way he talked about the blonde boy, I wouldn’t be surprised if they hate each other. He stumbled over his words several times while trying to tell us what happened after he freed the other boy. Throughout every other part of his story, he was highly descriptive and articulate. Midoriya wasn’t telling us the whole truth about that part of the fight, and when I asked him who Katsuki Bakugo was, he froze. The two have a history and something happened between them during that fight.”

Mic let out a quiet whistle, “Sheesh, didn’t know you were a mind reader, Aizawa. So he saved someone he didn’t like, isn’t that even more heroic? To do what is right, even against personal feelings? Hats off to the kid. His heart is definitely in the right place. Say, what do you think Nezu is even thinking, bailing the kid out like this?”

Shota didn’t answer as the two traversed their way backward through the maze of bland walls and miscellaneous beeping sounds. Only when they entered the final hallway leading to the hospital lobby did Shota have a response, “In an ideal world, it’s probably just as I told Inko Midoriya. That Nezu thinks Izuku’s quirk is too powerful to be left untrained, regardless of academic or criminal status.” Shota glanced at his friend, “But you and I both know nothing Nezu does is that simple. When Shiretoko of the Wild Wild Pussy Cats interrupted my meeting with Nezu, she kept claiming that her quirk, Search, had a difficult time identifying Izuku’s quirk and couldn’t pinpoint his weaknesses. Since those are her main quirk abilities, she was clearly in distress. She kept claiming the only other person that her quirk had difficulty with was All Might.”

Shota stopped walking and looked down each end of the hallway to make sure it was empty. Down the hallway were the large entry doors to the expansive lobby. So much light shown in from the door windows that it made the rest of the dreary hallway feel like it was subdued in shadows. He didn’t want any prying ears to hear what he was saying. Beside him, Present Mic had also made an abrupt stop and stared at the door with a furrowed brow. Contrary to public belief, Present Mic was no idiot. Shota knew that his words were making his friend’s brain kick into overdrive. 

Mic slowly started putting pieces of Shota’s hunch together, “And All Might is becoming a teacher at UA. So you think the-”

“I think it's too strange of a coincidence to not be connected. Nezu knows something we don’t. Something to do with All Might, and whatever it is, he has plans for Izuku Midoriya.”

There was a brief silence between them before Present Mic whistled, “Damn. What a conspiracy. There are a lot of assumptions being made here, but if you’re right, or even if you’re onto a piece of something here, it could cause a lot of trouble. But if Nezu has his eye set on Izuku for whatever reason, why did you tell the kid he’d be receiving no special treatment at the entrance exams? Clearly, if Nezu has some sort of scheme for the boy, he’s getting into UA no problem.”

Shota crossed his arms and leaned his back against one of the walls, “The less that kid knows, the better. From just that brief conversation, I can tell that he’s smart enough to sniff out that this whole thing is fishy. He just never opposed it because he knew how good of a deal Nezu was making it for him. This entire situation doesn’t sit right with me. And Nezu would never tell us anything if we tried confronting him about it. My intuition is telling me that Izuku’s development of his quirk at such a late age is also a factor here.”

Present Mic rubbed the hairs of his mustache as he contemplated the situation, “That’s possible. Developing a quirk at the age of twelve is unheard of. I wouldn’t be surprised if Nezu would be interested in that alone. But that fails to explain the correlation Shiretoko made between Izuku and All Might. There are too many strings here to tell which ones are important.”

Shota nodded, “My thoughts exactly. I doubt what Nezu has planned is sinister, but manipulating a kid’s future like this is still highly suspicious. It’s unsettling.”

“At least Izuku will be coming to you fully trained. And if you become his homeroom teacher, you can control a bit of Nezu’s oversight on the kid.”

Shota stood back up from the wall, signaling it was time to return to UA. “Coming to me fully trained is also going to raise some problems. Even though he manifested his quirk nearly a decade late and without an arm, he’ll still be a league above the rest. And I have full intention of being Izuku’s teacher. Regardless of intent, I don’t like what Nezu is doing here and I intend to limit it as best as I can.”

Present Mic began walking towards the doors to the lobby, “Good, good…”. A small smile slowly expanded across the sound hero’s face, “You like the kid, don’t you, Aizawa?”

“Shut up.”

Laying on the carpeted floor of his bedroom, Izuku had never felt more devoid of emotions. Or perhaps he was feeling too many emotions all at once and was failing to register any of them. It had been three days since he had finally escaped the hospital. While it hadn’t bothered him at first, the cold monotony of his hospital room had given him a severe case of claustrophobia. He had been itching to get moving again — anything to get away from his own swirling thoughts.

Not that finally being home allowed him to escape himself. For the past few hours, and much to his chagrin, his thoughts had been frantically jumping from one topic to another, with no end in sight. 

He reached up towards the gleaming overhead light with his left hand. Staring directly into the light, he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fist. Since he had been home, the reality of just how difficult things were going to be for him had finally settled in. Every task he did, no matter how menial, was now painstakingly difficult. Want to open that door? Gotta use your left hand. Want to open up a pack of crackers? Gotta use your teeth. Want to write in your notebook about the traumatizing week you’ve just had? You can’t because your writing is now unintelligible.

The one positive note on his mind was that he’d soon finally be able to take off the bandage that had been covering his nub. He hadn’t had the chance to see the full extent of the damage, but from what the doctor had told him, it was lucky he got injured in a place so close to medical aid. While the arm had been detached cleanly by his quirk, the subsequent explosion had torn the wound open. With all the smoke and garbage in the air, apparently, there was a high risk of infection. However, due to the nature of his quirk, all contaminants were burned upon contact with his blood. How lucky was he?

The real problem had been blood loss, which justified the killer headaches he’d been experiencing since the incident. As he thought about the damage to his arm, the more it began to itch. The pro hero Recovery Girl had supposedly made several appearances to aid in the medical process, but Izuku was never fortunate enough to be awake during them. Over the past five days, he had slept a total of 64 hours, so it made sense, but it still would’ve been nice to get her autograph. 

Izuku let his arm fall back down to the ground with a soft thud. He let out a heavy sigh. ‘ Man, why did it have to be Katsuki in that fight? Why did I have to be there to see it happening? Why did I run in? ’ 

He really had no business getting involved in that sludge villain attack. There were at least a dozen heroes on the scene by the time he had jumped in. And All Might had been on the way too, so he really did all of it for nothing. Izuku had done some pretty stupid things in his life, but this one had to take the cake. A split-second impulse resulting in a life-altering event. 

He got the attention of UA High School and the opportunity to spend almost a year with a pro hero organization. Great. That still didn’t make up for missing an arm. No matter what angle he tried to look at his situation from, there was always a bitter taste left in his mouth. He had been so caught up in the excitement of meeting pro heroes and being a “hero” himself, that he had momentarily been able to ignore the depth of his injury. Now, lying on the floor staring at the ceiling, he wanted nothing more than a latent time-traveling quirk.

The current thought running through Izuku’s mind was how in the hell he was supposed to learn to fight as a hero with only one hand. When Doctor Ito visited him at the hospital, he displayed some enthusiasm for prosthetic arms, but none of them were built with hero work in mind, much less able to withstand the intense heat Izuku’s body could radiate. In order to get his hands on a prosthetic specifically designed for him and his goals, he’d have to go through a support item manufacturer and pay an arm and a leg. And he was down to his last arm, so that wasn’t a viable option. 

He figured that it was something he’d have to explore during his stay with the Wild Wild Pussy Cats. The only members on the team that specialized in hand-to-hand combat were Mandalay and Tiger. Pixie Bob was more of a quirk specialist, while Ragdoll was the definite scout for the group. Izuku grimaced as he reminded himself of how he burned Tiger. Hopefully, he doesn’t hold grudges. If there’s anyone who’d be able to teach him one-hand combat, it’d be him, considering his quirk of Pliabody. 

After several long blinks, Izuku sat up and stared at the base of his bed, where a suitcase and a duffel bag lay. Izuku had never been away from home for more than a day or two. When he was younger, the Bakugos would allow him to sleep over at their house after a day of playing with Katsuki, but even then it was only down the street from his house. This time he was going hours away to an undefined location for almost a year. Izuku felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the thought. He was excited, but he wasn’t confident that his excitement would outlast the nerves of being away from his mom for very long. 

A problem he hadn’t anticipated was the limited amount of luggage he could bring with him. Since he wouldn’t be coming back for almost a year, he wanted to bring enough materials to keep him occupied. He had packed several of his hero notebooks, including the one of himself. While he still couldn’t write very well, Izuku had faith he’d pick it up quick enough to make including them worthwhile. He also included his father’s research on “meta” quirks. Admittedly, Izuku had initially dismissed the information as impractical, since quirks that affect or manipulate the quirks of others were incredibly rare. However, upon meeting Eraser Head, he figured it was worth another read.

Eraser Head was a curious case. From what he mentioned, he is one of the first-year teachers at UA. So if he gets in, then there's a chance that he’ll be his teacher. And considering how suspicious this whole arrangement with UA, the Wild Wild Pussy Cats, and the Musutafu Police Department had been, however, he figured that there’d be little chance of getting anyone else. That thought was both calming and anxiety-inducing. He’s a familiar face, but he was nothing if not serious. On online forums about the underground hero, there are reports of him expelling entire classes on a whim, which is a ridiculous precedent to set for the country’s most prestigious school. 

‘ Well, no use in worrying about that now. Can’t get expelled if you don’t even get in. ’

Izuku sighed for the thousandth time that day and began the tedious task of standing up. His missing forearm severely affected his sense of balance, which made body movement even more of a challenge. He couldn’t imagine how people who lose their arm from their shoulder must feel. The dull itch that came from underneath his bandages was reaching unbearable levels of annoyance, and Izuku decided he’d had enough.

Walking past the heaps of dirty clothing on the floor next to his door, he quietly made his way to the bathroom. The bathroom looked nearly identical to how it did before he had accidentally blown it to hell. The only major difference was that the sink was now an ugly tile. Too shiny and too white in his opinion. Izuku stared at himself in the mirror. He’d definitely seen better days.

Perhaps the second-biggest tragedy coming out of the fight with the sludge villain was that at some point he received a gash to his head. During surgery, they had decided to shave his entire head of hair. Now all that was left were short green spikes. For a moment, Izuku imagined he was an American soldier in one of those old-school war movies. He posed in the mirror, looking down the barrel of an invisible gun. He released a manic laugh at how ridiculous he looked with half of the imaginary gun floating above his nub. ‘ That’s it. I’m losing my mind. ’

Once he had finally gotten enough pent-up energy out, he carefully raised his nub to the mirror and examined the bandages. They seemed normal enough. The adhesive was going to hurt like hell, though. Izuku winced as he carefully began peeling the dressing off of his arm. Methodically, he slowly unwrapped it, checking every half second for any sign that something had gone horribly wrong. 

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally shed the last bit of bandages and got to see the end of his arm for the first time. Besides the irritated red skin, what stood out the most was the gaping hole in the middle of the nub. He hadn’t thought about it before, but it would obviously make sense for his arm to still have the tube for his flames to flow out through. He examined the tube gingerly. It was now much wider than it had been on his palm. It was also much more fleshy than he anticipated it to be. When it was still in his hand, it was hard to tell what the tube was made of, but he now had his disgusting answer. It wasn’t quite skin and it wasn’t quite bone. It almost appeared to be an unholy mix between the two. Izuku gagged and quickly averted his gaze. 

Curiosity still got the better of him as he then began examining the skin around the hole. What he saw made him question his eyesight. The surrounding skin of his forearm was no longer normal. If he squinted his eyes enough, he could notice that the new skin was porous, like his fingertips. 

Izuku’s eyes widened in surprise as he realized what this meant. The applications for his weird substance had now been exponentially widened. More porous skin meant more volume he’d be able to exert. He was almost tempted to test it right then and there, but a quick glance down at the replacement toilet quickly quelled that idea. 

He stared at his arm for several minutes while torrents of ideas came and went in his head. Groaning in frustration, Izuku realized that there was no way for him to record any of this in his notebook. He’d have to arduously type it up on his laptop and then copy it once he could actually write again. 

‘ That’s a problem for another day, though . ’ Izuku thought as he tapped his phone. It was nearly midnight. Officer Tamagawa would be picking him up in less than eight hours. 

Looking in the mirror one last time with a shadow of a grin on his face, he scoffed, “Guess there’s a silver lining after all.”

Nerves were beginning to get the best of him. Izuku was sitting in the living room next to his luggage, while his mom was pacing the length of the kitchen. “Mom, I’m going to be alright. We’ve talked about this.”

Inko momentarily stopped her loop around the kitchen and looked at her son from across the room, “Izu, I know you’ll be fine. You’re going to be with a bunch of pro heroes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you. My little boy is growing up and moving out. It’s too much too soon.”

Izuku’s hand had adorned a slight shake as nervous jitters fluttered up and down his spine, “I’m not moving out, Mom. I’m technically serving out a prison sentence. So if your son growing up too fast is the issue, then you should be fine with him nearly being a felon, right?” 

That got Inko to finally abandon her anxiety walk. “Izuku Midoriya. Don’t make such jokes. You got lucky, don’t tempt fate like that.” She continued walking over to Izuku before holding out her arms expectantly. 

Izuku laughed and rolled his eyes, but still stood up and met his Mom’s embrace. Inko sighed into his shoulder, “I’m gonna miss you, baby.” She pulled back and held onto her son’s upper arms, “Make sure you call me every chance you get. I’m gonna get lonely here all by myself.”

Grumbling, Izuku conceded, “I’m going to miss you too. I’ll call you at least every other day, I swear.”

Just when Inko was about to make a retort about call frequency, the doorbell rang. Izuku released himself from the hug, “Well, looks like my ride is here.” 

Inko nodded and swiftly shuffled towards the door, quickly adjusting her appearance in the entryway mirror before answering it. Inko smiled, “Hello, Officer Tamagawa, please come in.”

Tamagawa took a glance around the apartment, “Thank you, Mrs. Midoriya. I assume Izuku has everything packed and ready to go?”

Izuku jested, “Yeah, but I’ll need some help carrying the bags. I’d do it myself, but I’m a little short-handed at the moment.”

He had first met the officer a few days ago when he was discharged from the hospital. The moment he saw Tamagawa’s face — that of a ginger tabby cat, complete with a golden bell around his neck — he was momentarily overtaken by surprise, which quickly erupted into an entirely inappropriate burst of laughter. For which he had profusely apologized, but the officer had been unexpectedly witty and even made a couple of jibes of his own. Immediately, Izuku knew that they were gonna get along well. Or, at least, he hoped so. Otherwise, this was going to be one long car trip. 

Tamagawa smiled, “Cracking jokes already, huh, kid? Glad to see you’re seeing the world with a glass-half-full mindset. Well, I guess that’s the only way you can see it.” 

Izuku struggled to stifle a laugh. He didn’t want to give the officer the satisfaction, but admittedly, that was clever.  His mother, on the other hand, had burst out laughing uncontrollably. Officer Tamagawa let out a Cheshire grin before walking over to Izuku and grabbing the suitcase by its handle, “See? At least someone thinks I’m funny. Now give me that bag, we got a schedule to keep.”

Rolling his eyes, Izuku handed the man-cat the duffel bag. Tamagawa struggled to lift the bag at first, not expecting its hefty weight. “What do you have in here, a couple of bricks?”

Izuku made his way over to where his mom was standing, slowly recovering from the joke, “Nah. 

A couple of textbooks, though.”

Tamagawa gave a quick “humph” before taking the bags outside, leaving the Midoriyas to say their goodbyes. Inko had begun to shed tears, which consequently made her son just as emotional. “You be good for the heroes, alright? And the next time I see you, you better have two legs and one arm, you got me?”

Izuku squeezed his mom in a bear hug, “I’ll be good, don’t worry. And I’m not dumb enough to make the same mistake twice.”

His mom just gave him a skeptical look as Tamagawa came back through the doorway. “I’ll miss you, honey. I love you.”

They released the embrace as Izuku reassured her, “I love you too. I’ll call you later today when I get settled in.”

She smiled through her tears, “You better. I hope the car ride isn’t too bad,” She looked at Tamagawa, who was waiting at the doorway, “For either of you.” 

And with that, Izuku made his way down the apartment steps with the officer. His mother watched him leave from the open doorway. The police cruiser that had been parked in front of the complex was a typical half-black, half-white sedan that he had seen around several of the crime scenes in the city. Atop its roof was a red siren light. The sight had immediately made Izuku’s mind churn. 

As Officer Tamagawa opened up the backseat for Izuku, Izuku took the chance to ask, “Will we get to use the siren?” 

The man-cat looked at him incredulously before replying flatly, “Absolutely not.” 

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t be like that. It’d be a fun way to pass the time. And it’d save us time in traffic.”

Tamagawa stole a glance at the siren before adamantly reaffirming his previous answer, “Not a chance.”

Izuku rolled his eyes before turning back in the direction of his mom and wildly flailing his arms in wide arcs — waving one last time to his mom, before ushering himself into the car. Through the tinted glass windows, he could tell that his mom was wiping her eyes profusely. ‘ She always has been a crier . ’  

The car shook as Tamagawa closed the driver’s side door and started up the car. The aroma of igniting gasoline filled the car, making Izuku scrunch his nose in distaste; which was ironic given his quirk. He’d have to investigate his tolerance to smoke later. Izuku watched curiously as the officer reached into the glove box and pulled out what appeared to be a black sleeping mask, “Put this on.”

Izuku gingerly grabbed it. Inspecting it, it really was just a cheap sleeping mask. Not even a professional eye covering. Budget cuts must be tough these days. Izuku held out the eye coverings by one of the elastic bands, “Why, exactly, do I need this?”

Tamagawa twisted around in the front seat to face him, “The place I’m taking you to is the Wild Wild Pussy Cat’s private residence. I can’t allow you to see where we are going.”

Izuku understood the logic there but still wasn’t happy about it. “I’m sure everything about the Wild Wild Pussy Cats can be found somewhere online anyways. And I’m going to be living there for the next ten months anyways, is all this secrecy really necessary?” 

“Firstly, yes, it is necessary. And two, if you don’t put that thing on and buckle up, I will use this sleeping agent from Ms. Midnight on you and say you resisted. Don’t tempt me.” 

Izuku laughed, but still obediently fashioned it over his eyes and buckled his seatbelt. Leaning back into the uncomfortable leather seat, he could feel the car begin to move. As they departed the apartment building, Izuku had an amusing thought. 

“Don’t you find it ironic how you, a cat, were chosen to escort me to a group of humans pretending to be cats?”

Tamagawa sighed vehemently, “This is going to be a long car ride.”

“Hey kid,” Tamagawa rustled Izuku’s left arm gently. “Kid, wake up. We’re here.”

Tamagawa shook his arm again but got nothing but snores in return. He sighed. It had really come to this. Looping around the side of the car, he made his way to the driver’s seat panel. Making sure everything was in place, he positioned himself so that he had a direct line of sight on the sleeping boy before flipping the switch to the siren. 

At the first screech, Izuku jolted awake into a shocked state of daze. He lurched forward from his resting position and smacked the bridge of his nose directly into the head of the seat in front of him. A resounding “Ow, what the fuck?” erupted from Izuku’s mouth, while Officer Tamagawa innocently smiled at the startled boy. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living. We’re here.” 

That quickly changed Izuku’s mood, “Really?” 

Izuku quickly opened the door and stepped outside. Right away, the crisp air of the wilderness filled his nostrils. Making a full 360-degree turn, Izuku took in the surrounding site. Deep foliage of trees expanded in all directions, while a cascading mountain range jutted up into the noon sky. In the distance, a flock of birds flew overhead, creating a surreal, picturesque environment. Izuku had not been outside the city of Musutafu since his dad passed, and this first interaction was not disappointing.

Izuku waved his arm, wildly gesturing to the scenery. “Look at this place! This is incredible.”

Officer Tamagawa couldn’t help but smile at the sight, “Yeah, it is pretty cool out here. But in case you haven’t noticed, there’s not exactly any housing around here. We’ve got a short walk to their headquarters.”

Izuku took a look at his more immediate surroundings. The police car had now fashioned a fresh coating of mud on its wheels and shallower parts of the body. They had parked in a circular dirt patch that overlooked the valley, and there was a single trail that led directly into the thick treeline. “Well, at least it’s a good view before we go into the ominous woods. You know, if this was a horror movie, I’d just turn around and get right back into the car.”

“Good instincts. I’ve been a part of too many cases where people don’t share such fortunate judgment.” Tamagawa said as he hurled the duffel bag onto his shoulder. Closing the trunk, Tamagawa walked over to where Izuku was standing. “It’s not as far of a walk as you might think. The treeline is illusionary. Really, it's like five rows of trees before it opens up to their complex.”

Izuku deadpans, “Well now you spoiled it for me.”

Tamagawa started walking briskly down the dirt path, “You’re welcome.”

After a few minutes of walking, Izuku got to experience what Officer Tamagawa had described. Stepping out from under the tree-made archway, they entered a wide clearing that shed the greenery of the surrounding forest in favor of a rocky, mountainous terrain. On the far end of the mesa was an adjoined mountain with winding walkways leading to the flat summit. In the center of the expansive field was the most out-of-place looking thing there, a modern mansion. Well, maybe a mansion wasn’t the right word for it, but it was definitely a sizeable complex. 

‘ Huh, I was expecting a wooden cabin or something given the location. I guess that bodes a little better for me, then. ’ 

At the entrance to the building stood the four familiar figures he had briefly seen during the slime attack. There was also what looked like a kid hiding behind Mandalay’s leg. Izuku turned to Tamagawa, “I didn’t know one of the Pussy Cats had a kid.”

All he got in response was a quick shrug, “Heroes still live their own private lives, Izuku. Remember that. They aren’t heroes one hundred percent of the time and they don’t owe the public any sensitive information like that. Now get on your best behavior; you don’t want to mess up your second impression.”

The nerves from earlier that morning returned in full force as they closed the gap between the two groups. Tiger was much more bulky than he remembered, and with his arms crossed like they were, Izuku doubted he was on his good side. Mandalay seemed distracted ushering the child that was prancing around her back inside, while Pixie Bob was jumping up and down and waving her fake paws in greeting. Ragdoll was just staring at him. 

‘ I can’t imagine how this could go badly. ’

Before they got into earshot, he let out one last quip at his officer friend’s expense, “You sure this isn’t insulting to you? Pretty sure this is appropriation.”

Tamagawa just gave him a quick side eye and responded, “You better watch yourself. Keep talking like that and I’m gonna make you carry your luggage the rest of the way.”

“Touché.”

As the pair approached the group, Izuku began stressing about this meeting. It took every bit of willpower to hold back his nervous reflex of dispensing his substance out of his fingertips. Showing up with dotted fingertips would be a bold move that he wasn’t willing to try out. 

Mandalay stepped forward and greeted them cheerfully, “Officer Tamagawa and Izuku Midoriya, welcome to our headquarters. I hope that you guys found your way here alright. There was a storm that passed through here not too long ago and we were worried the main road leading here would be out, but it looks like you guys arrived all right.”

Next to him, Tamagawa adjusted the duffel bag’s strap, “It was alright. Midoriya was masked as requested. Had to take a detour at one point, but it was smooth sailing besides that. I trust you have all the arrangements you need for his stay?”

Pixie Bob excitedly bounced into the conversation, “We sure do! Ever since we saw him take out that slime villain, we’ve been preparing to make sure he’d feel right at home here!”

Mandalay gave a small smile, “Yes, as Pixie Bob has said, all the arrangements for Midoriya are set up, and we’ll get him back into shape in no time.”

The rest of the Wild Wild Pussy Cats had joined the group, and Izuku figured it was now or never. He bowed and began introducing himself, “Hello everyone. It is a pleasure to meet you all. My name is Izuku Midoriya.”

Tamagawa eyed him curiously, but the introduction seemed to have satisfied everyone else. Tiger replied gruffly, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well. I wish it was under better circumstances, but after that stunt you pulled, I suppose it is as best as it could be.”

Izuku felt his face turn red as he bowed his head again in shame, “Yes, I am sorry for my actions last week. I was rash and irresponsible. I am here to learn how to improve, so an event like that doesn’t happen again.”

When he straightened back up, he was met with amused faces. ‘ If the embarrassment of this situation is all I have to pay for last week, so be it. ’ 

Pixie Bob just waived her comically large paw, “Don’t worry about it, we’ve all been healed up and have recovered. We are glad to hear that you’re looking to improve, though. That’s exactly what I want to hear.”

Mandalay added to that sentiment, “Midoriya, while what you did was… unfortunate, you ultimately did end up saving the day — albeit in a destructive manner. If we didn’t see the potential for growth in you, then we wouldn’t have volunteered to take you in for the year. Right, Ragdoll?”

Izuku looked toward the green-haired member of the group and found her just staring at him with a confused look on her face. She was clearly not paying attention to the conversation at all. Her gaze caused a shiver to run down his back. It felt like he was under a microscope.

Mandalay nudged Ragdoll, snapping her out of whatever trance she had been in. Ragdoll snapped her head to her teammate before looking back at Izuku, this time without the creepy stare. “Oh. Yes. While your actions were quite dangerous, we were surprised by the strength of your quirk and your bravery for entering the battle after noticing that plenty of pro heroes were already on the scene and struggling.” 

He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the situation, so Izuku settled on a nervous laugh and stayed quiet. Although they were saying some pretty nice things, he doubted that was the entire story here. Why else would Ragdoll be acting so weird? 

After an agonizingly long moment of silence between the group, Tiger took the lead, “Officer Tamagawa, allow me to take Midoriya’s luggage. We don’t want you to have to spend more time here than you need to. We are sure you have many other cases to attend to.” 

Tamagawa nodded, “Of course. With All Might in Musutafu, things have been pretty quiet, but that usually just means that there's crime happening elsewhere.” Once the luggage was handed off, Tamagawa regarded the rest of the heroes, “I will be making my leave now. The police department will be making frequent check-ins to evaluate Midoriya’s progress.” 

He paused for a moment before looking at Izuku, “Don’t let him fool you with his current shyness. Once you get him to start talking, you’ll never get him to stop.”

Izuku pouted mockingly but, nonetheless, bowed to the man and thanked him, “Thank you Officer Tamagawa for making me feel comfortable during such a turbulent time and for transporting me these past few days. I hope your ride home goes smoothly and that we can meet again soon.”

Tamagawa smiled before returning a bow, “No problem, kid. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

With that, the man-cat made his way back the way the two of them had come. After a few moments of awkwardly watching his receding figure, Mandalay instructed Izuku and the others to follow her. “Now Izuku, our responsibility these next ten months is to ensure that you recover both physically and mentally from the recent tragedy while also instructing you on quirk control. That is our goal first and foremost. If you show us that you’re capable of more, then, and only then, would we consider furthering your abilities as a hero student. Sound good?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now, this is our main office and living space. Since we specialize in mountain rescue operations, we don’t require a headquarters in a highly populated area. We usually travel across Japan responding to reports of mountain slides, earthquakes, and missing person cases, so having a centralized headquarters didn’t make much sense. I apologize for the secrecy surrounding your transport, but since this is also our home, we’d rather not take any chances.”

Izuku nodded. Pixie Bob chimed in as they entered the large front doors, “This place is really nice, though, so don’t worry about getting bored around here. We have all the facilities of a normal hero headquarters, but we also have some added features like the hot springs and the mountain range for training. You can really let loose around here without worrying about damaging a whole lot. Perfect for your quirk!”

Izuku cringed at that last comment, but made his way inside, evaluating his new home. The foyer was wide and open. It was sparsely decorated, save for potted plants and paintings of geographic landscapes on the walls. On the far end of the room was a small concierge desk, but it looked a bit abandoned. Tiger gestured to the room, “We don’t have visitors very often, but this is our lobby. When we host, it’s typically large groups of heroes. In that case, we have a couple of tables we set up in here as a makeshift cafeteria.”

Tiger had been quiet for the majority of the meeting, so his explanation took Izuku by surprise. Turning to look at Tiger, his gaze lingered on Ragdoll, who was still uncomfortably staring at him. He was sure he saw her blinking erratically too. If he wasn’t so nervous, he’d try asking her about it. Maybe she’s shy and doesn’t know how to interact with kids?

Tiger, in his admittedly ill-fitting outfit, gestured to the hallways that occupied the ends of the room. “Left is our offices. Right is our living area, gym, and tech lab. Also leads to the bathhouse” 

Izuku froze, “Lab? You guys have a lab here?”

A rush of ideas began running rampant in his mind. He’d never had access to a real lab before. The ones at Aldera were clearly designed for controlled, teacher-guided experiments and not much else. The bare bones of those lab rooms agitated him to no end, but hopefully, this one would live up to his imagination. 

Mandalay interjected his thoughts, “Don’t get any funny ideas. That’s where our costumes are designed and repaired. You’re not allowed in there until you’ve proven we can trust you. Got it?”

He sighed, “Yeah, I got it.” A small pause followed, “But theoretically if I were to gain your trust, what kind of equipment do you have in there?”

Pixie Bob laughed, “Nice try. If everything goes to plan, you’ll find out soon enough. But as Mandalay said, developing your skills as a baby hero is last on our priority list. First, we got to get you and your body up to snuff.” 

Izuku groaned inwardly. At least he tried. As they entered the right hallway in silence, the sudden voice of Ragdoll made him jump, “Midoriya, what is your quirk?”

‘ What a weird thing to ask. They should already have my file. ’  

He scratched his head. Maybe this was one of those psychological tricks to make him think about his quirk differently. “Um. I’m sure you guys already have me on file, but I have a mutation quirk. My physiology is altered so that I can produce highly reactive and high-temperature flames from within myself. I can then dispel the flames on command through the palms of my hands and from my mouth. Well, that was before I lost my hand. Now, I’m not so sure. I assume I can still shoot flames out of the tube in my right arm, but I haven’t wanted to try anything yet. I can also secrete some sort of barium-based substance from my fingertips, which I can control weakly. That substance kind of landed me here in the first place. Why do you ask? Can’t you see my quirk anyway with Search?”

Ragdoll shrugged, but still looked at him curiously, “Just wanted to make sure the information we received is accurate. Also wanted to get a baseline of your knowledge.”

Izuku was getting really weirded out by Ragdoll. Something didn’t feel right about her. He nervously clenched his fist, “Ah. Yeah. Eraser Head mentioned I’m pretty adept at understanding my quirk.”

Sensing the tension, Mandalay cut into the conversation and grabbed Izuku’s luggage from Tiger. “Alright, I’m sure Midoriya wants to unpack and get settled. I’ll show him to his room. How about you guys go back to finalizing the arrangements in the gym? Ragdoll, can you check on Kota?”

The other heroes agreed in murmurs and nods before backtracking to the lobby area. Midoriya looked to Mandalay as they began walking, “Did I… Do something to Ragdoll? In the fight, I mean. She’s been staring at me, so I’m wondering if she got hurt because of me.”

Mandalay’s face turned solemn, “It’s complicated. Ragdoll was the one who ordered the evacuation of the area before you set it ablaze. She feels responsible for the damage done to the storefronts and to you. She hasn’t said anything concrete, but I can tell it's eating at her. Ragdoll was also the first one to find your unconscious body. It was a pretty gruesome scene, so I can’t fault her for feeling a bit jumpy around you.”

Mandalay purposefully left out the more pressing reason for her concern. That Ragdoll’s quirk didn’t work on him. In the file that the police department sent over, they had described him as possessing an above average intelligence, which would be able to infer any information not kept under lock and key. Since Ragdoll’s quirk issues weren't something they, as a team, felt comfortable sharing, they believed it was best to avoid mentioning it. Ragdoll had pushed it, though, with all of her staring. Mandalay understood she was just trying to figure out what was happening to her quirk, but it was understandably creepy.

Izuku stared at the ground in front of him as he walked, counting the wooden panels. All he could reply was a soft, “Oh.”

Eventually, they arrived at a door at the end of a bisecting hallway, “Well, Midoriya. Here is your room.” 

Mandalay gently pushed open the door to reveal a small bedroom outfitted with not much more than a twin-sized bed with gray sheets and a wooden desk adjacent to it. In the far corner was a standing lamp that had to be at least thirty years old.

Mandalay walked inside and gently placed the suitcase and duffel bag at the foot of the bed. “This is one of our guestrooms in the facility. It’s pretty bare bones, but hopefully, with the schedule we have you on, that won’t be an issue. You’ll be doing your schoolwork here, but don’t hesitate to find one of us if you need help with anything. There’s a bathroom connected to the bedroom through that door on the left.”

Izuku followed suit and surveyed his new living quarters. It could be a lot worse, he supposed. Mandalay made her way back to the door, “I’ll let you get settled in. Come find one of us if you need more blankets or towels.” She continued watching as Izuku sat down on the bed, “Before I go, I want to inform you of the schedule we’ll have you on. You will be waking up at 7 am sharp every day. We will have breakfast prepared most days, but otherwise, you will have to get acquainted with the kitchen. We’ll be focussing on your mental stability, strength recovery, and flexibility before anything else.” 

“Your training will be divided between all four of us, with each of us teaching you about our own respective specialties. I’ll teach you general hero knowledge and strategy, Tiger will aid in your strength training and flexibility, Ragdoll will oversee hero law and quirk theory, and Pixie Bob will work with you on controlling your quirk. You’ll typically have your day split into five chunks so that you can spend a couple of hours with each of us, as well as have some time to complete your online schooling requirements. Sound good?”

Izuku just nodded. That all sounded reasonable, but the way she phrased it didn’t make him feel any less uneasy. He didn’t expect this to be a cakewalk, but he also wasn’t anticipating a brutal gauntlet of training every day for the next ten months. Anything to have him ready to crush UA’s entrance exam, he supposed. 

With that, Mandalay gave him a warm smile, “Welcome to the team, Midoriya. Hopefully, this won’t be too painful for you.” With that, she softly shut the door behind her. Izuku stayed sitting motionless on the bed until the pitter-patter of her footsteps was inaudible. 

Laying down on the bed, Izuku once again found himself staring at a ceiling light. “Oh, brother, Izuku. What in the fuck did you sign up for?”

Chapter Text

Gazing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Izuku decidedly concluded that today was going to suck. His eyes were still bloodshot from last night's constant tossing and turning. The dried drool on his cheek accented his shaved head just enough to make him look like he had been run over and then promptly peeled off the street. He groaned as he wiped his eyes, it was currently 7:05 in the morning and he was already getting a sense of how serious the Wild Wild Pussy Cats were about time management. When the alarm on the bed’s nightstand went off, he had tried in vain to snooze it three times before realizing that the rectangular black box was devoid of any buttons. It was just a box with the time on it, programmed to unapologetically ruin his sleep every morning. 

Wiping the drool off his cheek, Izuku lamented his last 12 hours. When Mandalay had left him in the guestroom to get situated, he hadn’t expected to actually be locked inside. It wasn’t until he had wanted to look around for food that he noticed the door didn’t budge. After several minutes of struggling, he had given up and concluded they had the lock on a timer mechanism. Or it was being manually locked and unlocked, but that seemed unlikely with how much attention they’d have to give it. He had resigned himself to sitting on the foot of the bed, realizing that he had willingly agreed to be sent to a madhouse. 

Eventually, he had taken the time to unpack his items. Books on the desk, clothes in the closet, and his trusty limited edition Bronze Age All Might bobble head on the nightstand. It had taken a maximum of half an hour to unload all his gear, and he had to just wait patiently for his wardens to release him from his cell. In the spare time, he tried to reason out the odd dichotomy between his captors' friendly personas and hardliner actions. He decided that their decision to torment him this early on was to send a message reminding him who was in charge — at least, that was what his experience with old-timey prison movies told him. Not that he could've missed that factoid when he had walked through the front entrance with the giant insignia of “W.W.P.C.” above his head.

His freedom ended up not coming until several hours later for dinner. A dinner that had gone equally well as his time in captivity. The food was fantastic, but the awkward conversation soiled any chance of having a positive experience. Between the overbearing energy from Pixie Bob, the stoic silence from Tiger, Ragdoll’s weird looks, and the little kid’s death glares, Izuku had felt intensely overstimulated. He had made an effort to get to know everyone better and offered information about himself, but it was all surface level stuff that made his current self cringe. 

~~~

Settling into his chair nervously, Izuku looked around the room. They were in a dining room of sorts — a circular glass table arranged in the rightmost enclave of a large room that he supposed acted as their living area. On the opposing wall of the room was a green L-shaped sofa that hugged the curvature of the wall. Adjacent to it was a television set that seemed to be playing some old children’s cartoon. Izuku wondered if the child he had seen with Mandalay earlier would be making an appearance. 

His thoughts were distracted by the wafts of deliciousness ruminating from where he could only imagine the kitchen was, tantalizing his senses. As the smell of food became more potent, the members of the Wild Wild Pussy Cats slowly trickled in one after another. This time, however, they had not adorned their typical cat themed costumes, but rather regular civilian clothing. Tiger even came in jeans and a wife beater tank top. Eventually, Mandalay came in from the kitchen with the young child following close behind, both of them with their hands full of steaming piles of food. Midoriya’s stomach grumbled instinctually at the sight, having missed lunch on the drive over. 

Mandalay quickly made her way to the table and set down a delectable looking curry, “I hear that someone’s hungry.”

Izuku chuckled, “Yeah, the drive over here didn’t include any food amenities. I should probably request a refund.”

Mandalay smiled as she sat down in a chair across from him. The kid sat next to her and glumly pouted while setting down the container of rice he had brought in. Pixie Bob looked at Izuku excitedly, “Please, take however much you want. We can’t have you underfed going into your recovery treatment tomorrow.” 

Smiling politely, Izuku secured himself a conservative amount of food. He hesitated once he had his plate filled. He wasn’t sure what their dining habits were, so he watched as the others all gathered their meals together. Pixie Bob dove into her rice as soon as she had her plate constructed, but Ragdoll had readied her chopsticks and refrained from eating. 

Izuku stared at his plate, ‘ Is everyone supposed to get their food first or can I just start eating? ’ 

As if his mind had been read, Mandalay explained, “You can start eating whenever Midoriya. We usually don’t have strict dining rules like that.”

He sheepishly grinned before diving into the rice, thankful they gave him a spoon, correctly assuming he couldn’t use chopsticks with his left hand. Upon first taste, he knew he had to get the recipe. He let out a loud appreciative hum, “Wow! This is really good! Compliments to the chef.”

Mandalay smiled, “Thank you. It’s not too often we go all out cooking around here, but if today doesn’t warrant it, I’m not sure what would.”

Izuku simply nodded, not wanting to speak with a mouthful of food. Unfortunately, an awkward silence soon fell over the room as the pro heroes snuck glances at their new guest — quite a few of them lingering on his handless arm. He couldn’t possibly live with this silence and wanted his curiosity appeased, “So, does the door to my room work on a timed lock or a manual one?” 

Mandalay replied, “Both. We have the ability to time it as well as manually lock or unlock it. I’m sure that was quite a surprise to you earlier, but please understand. You’re still a stranger and we have a little one here running around. We want this stay of yours to be as comfortable as possible, but first, we have to get familiar with you enough to trust you with open access around the facility.”

Slowly nodding, Izuku responded, “Speaking of, I know I met you all briefly earlier, but who is the boy? And do I call you guys by your hero names or…?” 

Ragdoll jumped in and gestured to the child in between her and Mandalay, “This is Kota. He’s Mandalay’s nephew. And you can just call us by our hero names if that’s what comes naturally to you.”

Izuku nodded before waving to Kota and gleefully introducing himself, “Hello Kota, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Izuku Midoriya.”

Kota said nothing as he fixed his horned red hat further down his head, blocking Izuku’s view of his eyes. 

‘ Ok… Well, that’s weird. ’ 

Mandalay glanced apologetically at Izuku, “Sorry, he’s a bit of a shy one. I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually.”

On that bizarre note, the room once again fell into an uncomfortable silence. Minutes passed before Pixie Bob asked, “So Midoriya, how’s the arm feeling?”

‘ There’s the elephant in the room. ’ Izuku knew that it would be coming, but it still didn’t help him prepare his answer. He had several thoughts about his missing hand, and none of them were appropriate in front of Kota. “It’s sore. Hurts when I move it too much, so I’ve been keeping it from bearing any weight or anything. It's, uh, it’s been weird for me to live without a hand. Definitely has made my life harder. Sometimes when I look away, it still feels like it's right there.” 

He inwardly cursed as the last part of his answer had accidentally come out a bit more spiteful than he meant it to. All the members of the Pussycats looked at him sympathetically, which only made his skin crawl. He knew they were just trying to be understanding, but their gazes were pestering his pride. 

Tiger’s gruff voice spoke up for the first time during the meal, “Don’t fret, Midoriya. We will work hard to get you up to speed. You’ll become so proficient with one arm, you’ll never look back.”

“Thanks, Tiger.”

The mountain of a man nodded before focusing back on his food. Izuku glanced at the other heroes before locking eyes with Ragdoll who had adopted a glazed-over expression on her face. He quickly averted his gaze to the food below him. She really gave him the creeps. From what Mandalay had told him earlier, he should be appreciative of her quick actions during the fight, but her odd gazes unsettled him for a reason he wasn’t sure he understood. 

Much of the next hour continued this pattern of stifled quietness, followed by some surface level inquiry from either Mandalay or Pixie Bob. Izuku, at the very least, learned a little bit about his prospective training regime for the next few weeks. Lots of stretches, basic exercise, and evaluating how much the incident affected his body. None of the fun stuff. And they even banned him from using his quirk before they were sure he’d healed enough!

By the time the dinner had come to an unceremonious end, Izuku was itching to return to his room. He’d make a better effort to be more sociable tomorrow, but the tension in the room was suffocating him. With a couple of “Thank you”’s, he quickly dipped away to his room, where he subsequently stuffed his face into a pillow in embarrassment. 

~~~

Groaning at the memory, Izuku splashed his face with water once again. He had to make a better impression today. Since the bar was set in hell, he figured it should be a walk in the park. Maybe the nerves of having a newcomer in their house was what caused their standoffishness? Or they just didn’t know how to interact with a kid his age? The fact he was a recent victim of a violent accident that caused him to lose part of a limb couldn’t have helped. They likely didn’t know how to broach the subject. 

Hell, he was probably just as big of a problem. His mood had been more erratic than usual. He knew his quirk made him more susceptible to emotions, but he thought he’d put up a pretty good facade up to this point. Perhaps, without realizing it, he had come across as distant and detached. Maybe his body language was closed off or his tone flat. Maybe he had an unintentional lack of enthusiasm. Maybe he appeared more brooding than receptive. 

Looking back, he hadn’t exactly jumped in to fill the quiet pauses in the conversation. That had probably made him seem disengaged. He was so lost in his focus to be cordial, he had lost any essence of being an actual person.

Breaking away from his whirlpool of doubts, Izuku stood up straight, fiddling with his T-shirt. Printed on the front in large font was the word, “Pants,” a clever joke he couldn’t get enough of. This was a good way of introducing his humor and personality, which hopefully prompted the heroes to open up a bit more. Izuku was banking on the one-on-one interactions during training to warrant much better conversations. With a deep breath, Izuku left the bathroom and wandered his way to where he had eaten dinner last night. 

The room was dimly lit, but he recognized the figure of Ragdoll at the table eating a bowl of cereal. She wasn’t in her hero costume, but it looked like she had been awake for a while.

Nervously, Izuku approached. “Good morning Ragdoll.”

She shifted her green hair out of her eyes, “Oh, hi Midoriya. Sorry for the lackluster breakfast, there was a report of a rock slide a few hours ago and everyone else was dispatched to help out. We were planning on making an extravagant meal with eggs, waffles, berries, and everything else you could possibly imagine, but it’ll have to wait for another morning it seems.”

‘ She seems more talkative at least. And she isn’t staring… yet. ’

“Oh, I see. Cereal is fine. Where can I find some?”

She motioned to the kitchen, “Third cupboard on the right.”

Nodding, Izuku wandered into the kitchen. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it hadn’t been this. Stepping into the room, he was surprised by the vastness of the room. Instead of a kitchen you’d typically find in a home, this was a full kitchen you’d see at a restaurant. The center of the room had a sleek silver table, the walls were fashioned with various machinery, and overhead were numerous cabinets. Ovens and fryers seemed to be the appliances of choice. Along the wall adjacent to Izuku’s right side was an industrial-sized sink attached to a large counter that had an assortment of dishes and utensils on it. After blinking twice, he moved toward the wooden cupboards above the counter next to the sink. Tentatively flicking open the third cabinet, he found the cereal and painstakingly fixed himself a bowl of it before strolling back into the dining room. 

Sitting down at the table across from Ragdoll, he decided he couldn’t allow them to fall into silence. “So, is everything ok with the rock slide?”

Ragdoll nodded, “Yeah, everything seems to be fine. It was a couple of hours away in an area that has been experiencing heavy rainfall. It’s near a popular hiking trail, so we wanted to make sure there weren’t any stragglers or complications.”

Izuku took a bite of his cereal, “So why didn’t you go with them? I mean, I get why you can’t just leave me here unattended, but isn’t your quirk literally called ‘Search’? Wouldn’t you be helpful in a situation like that?”

Ragdoll laughed, “Yes, the name does make it seem that way. Unfortunately, though, that isn’t quite how my quirk works. I’d need to see a person before I can locate them again via my quirk, so doing initial searches for people I’ve never seen before doesn’t work as well.”

“Well that’s a bummer,” he considered the quirk more, “So, if you look at a photo or video of somebody, and then look search for them in real life, does your quirk work?”

“I wish. That would make crime fighting so much easier. I’d be the world’s best tracker. Sadly, it doesn’t. My quirk is really only useful in situations where I can observe from afar and evaluate an individual’s quirk, strengths, and weaknesses.”

Izuku let out a thoughtful hum, “To what extent does your quirk detail an individual’s strengths and weaknesses? Is it purely physical? Or can it be applied more broadly? If someone is lactose intolerant, would you be able to tell that their weakness is dairy?”

“Thankfully, it can’t do that much. There are a lot of things about people I’d rather not know.” She twirled her spoon around the leftover milk in her bowl, “Since my quirk tracks the quirk factor in people’s DNA, it mainly gives me information about quirk limitations and drawbacks. It also tells me a bit about their physical abilities as well, but not enough for it to be considered one of those precognition combat quirks.”

“I see… That’s still really cool, though. The application of a quirk like that is almost endless. You say that it tracks the quirk factor, though, so how does it react to a quirkless person? And in what form is this information even presented? Like, does it just give you a mental list of characteristics, or is it more of a subconscious knowledge sort of thing?”

Ragdoll leaned back in her seat as she thumbed through her long locks of hair, “You’re quite inquisitive for 7 in the morning. I guess that makes my life easier. After all, I’ll be the first one to start teaching you, it seems. And to answer your questions. I can’t track quirkless people, and it's a subconscious thing.”

Izuku wiped the sleep out of his eyes. This information was really valuable. None of the forums or databases he’d searched through online had this kind of information on Ragdoll’s quirk. Instinctively, he reached to his pocket for his notebook, but was simultaneously met with two things. Firstly, He didn’t have a right hand anymore, and secondly, his book was on his desk and he had no way to write in it. 

The pro hero eyed his movement, “Looking for something?”

Sighing, Izuku smoothed over his shirt with his hand, “Yeah, I have a collection of notebooks detailing heroes and their quirks. I was thinking of adding what you just told me into it, but I left it in my room. I also can’t write with my left hand, so it's kind of a moot point.”

The green haired woman simply shaped an “O” with her mouth and stood up with her dishes. Izuku didn’t care to turn around and watch her entry into the kitchen, but rather reflected on the peculiarly normal interaction they had just shared. It was so unlike what he had experienced yesterday that he subconsciously worried he had hallucinated the entire thing. His thoughts shifted. Maybe yesterday was just a bad day for Ragdoll too. It was possible that the memories of the slime villain were a bit heavier than he thought they would be for a hardened veteran. Or maybe it was something more… biological. He slightly shook his head. He did NOT need to think about that.

Upon her entrance back into the dining room, she clapped her hands. “Alright Midoriya, here’s the game plan. I’m gonna go check on Kota real quick and then when I get back we can start your training. Since you seem pretty curious about quirks, I think we’ll start there. Some early morning quirk theory has never hurt anyone.” She briskly walked past him and out to the entryway. Before entering the hallway, she looked back at him, “Oh, and bring a few of those notebooks of yours. I’d like to see them.”

That last request left him uneasy. He hadn’t let anyone see his notes before. Not even his mom. He knew there was nothing indecent in the notebooks, but the thought of years of his work being scrutinized by a professional hero caused a tight knot in his stomach. As if on cue, his fingers began encasing themselves in a charcoal black. ‘ Fuck. ’

Following behind Ragdoll, Izuku almost felt like he was preparing for a job interview. Ragdoll, dressed in business casual attire, and him following close behind with a handful of notebooks, was truly reminiscent of the time he had tried to get a job at a local bookstore. Of course, once they learned he was only thirteen, they immediately denied him, but at least he tried. He had only done it in an attempt to get early access to an exclusive release of Heroes Digest that came with a special edition Endeavor figurine. 

Eventually, Ragdoll led him into a small room that was not that dissimilar to how his classroom at Aldera looked. Instead of math posters, though, there were topographical maps of various mountain ranges strung up. He assumed the books that lined the walls were also detailing mountain ranges. In the middle of the room was a run-down table with a few chairs sporadically distributed nearby. On the end of the table was a projector pointed towards a blank whiteboard that encompassed the majority of the far right wall. It really did seem like a classroom.

Ragdoll grabbed a few books off of a nearby shelf before settling into the head seat at the end of the table opposite to the projector. Izuku took a seat adjacent to her, fiddling with the corners of the books he had brought. She leaned forward, “Alright Midoriya, before we begin looking through your notes, I’d like to apologize about yesterday.” She paused to gauge Izuku’s reaction, “As Mandalay might’ve told you, the incident with the slime villain was… less than stellar. I found you in a pretty bad position and I had accumulated a severe lack of sleep at the time, so it affected me much more than a similar event would usually. But that isn’t the only reason why I might’ve been acting a bit odd. You see, my quirk has been acting strangely recently and it had flared up yesterday upon your arrival. None of this was your fault and after last night’s dinner Mandalay informed me of my, admittedly creepy, actions. I am truly sorry if I made you feel unwelcome here. My quirk is still agitated, so if I stare at you again in the future I apologize in advance.”

Izuku let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, relieved to learn that there was something abnormal about yesterday’s interactions — that he hadn’t been hallucinating the entire thing. He gave a reassuring look back to her, “Ok. Thanks for telling me because I’ve honestly been kind of worried about that pretty much since the moment I got here. I’m glad to hear there’s a reason for it that doesn’t involve something I had caused.”

Ragdoll smiled as the tension between them diminished, “All right, now that that is out of the way, let’s see what you’ve been developing here.” 

Izuku slid over the three notebooks he had chosen to bring. The notebooks were Hero Analysis For The Future #11, #12, and #0. Respectively, those were the two most recent notebooks that weren’t lost in a frenzy of flame and slime, and the last was his specialized notebook detailing his own quirk. “I did have a thirteenth notebook, but I lost it during that fight last week. Which is a bummer because I had just made a really cool section on the BMI Hero Fatgum. Those two there are just on random heroes I found to be interesting, and that one is the one I made for myself.”

She took a look at the beaten covers of each of the notebooks. She picked up the nicest notebook out of the bunch, “So you really went all out on your own edition, huh? Got this fancy notebook and everything.”

Izuku simply nodded as she opened it up. Minutes of silence passed as the woman peered through the pages of the notebook. Unlike yesterday’s fiasco, however, he didn’t mind the silence. What he minded, however,  were the tiny facial expressions she was making upon reading certain sections in the book. Knowing the books like the back of his hand, Izuku knew exactly which ideas she was contemplating. She would also often times look back up at him with that dazed look she had adorned for the entirety of yesterday. While still unsettling, now that he knew the reason for it, he didn’t feel as scrutinized. 

Once she had gone through a majority of the pages, she let out a short, shrill whistle and looked back up at Midoriya, “Wow. This is some incredible stuff, you know that? It makes what I was about to start lecturing you about seem like child’s play. I do have a couple questions, though. You keep referencing your dad’s notes. Did your dad also study quirks?”

Izuku beamed at the mention of his dad, “Oh yeah, my dad was a quirk analyst. When he… passed, he left me with all of his textbooks and notes on quirk science, theory, and application. I’ve been going through them over the years and making what sense of them I can. I try to use some of that information in my hero analysis, but most of that is just my own observations, not backed up by anything substantial.”

By the time he had finished his explanation, Ragdoll had already moved onto one of his other notebooks. Her praise for his earlier work alleviated some of his concerns, but he still held a breath of anticipation as she fingered through the other two notebooks.

A suspenseful silence fell upon the room as Ragdoll continued reading through Izuku’s works, this time seemingly going more in depth into her evaluations. At some point, he had begun to doze off when the loud snap of paper colliding jolted him awake. Ragdoll handed notebooks #11 and #12 back to him before leaning back into her chair with notebook #0 closed tightly in her hand. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a fourteen-year-old who could understand the nuances of hero team combinations, much less the intricacies of quirk limits, as well as you do. I’m the team’s quirk theorist and non-combat planner, so I’m probably the most qualified to tell you that you really have a gift here. You’re lacking some fundamental understanding of hero law, strategy, and bureaucracy, but those are all topics usually covered in college, so you're still well above the learning curve. Your intuition on how heroes could apply their individual quirks to particular situations is where I think you excel the most, though.”

She smiled brightly, “You seem to understand leverage in battle pretty well and how certain tactics can sway the balance. This gives me a really good idea of where we can begin talking about quirk theory, but your notebook on yourself is what I really found fascinating. If you didn’t have such a good quirk, I’d force you to go into the support industry. With these kinds of experimental designs and theories on how to develop your quirk, you’d fit right in. Your math could use a little work, but the fact that you’re even attempting to apply thermodynamic principles to your unusual physiology is commendable.”

Izuku felt the heat radiating off of his face. He’d been praised at school before, of course; it was no secret that he was smart. But to have an actual pro hero who specializes in the topic praising him about his hobby simply sent him over the moon! It almost made all the years of teasing from his classmates worth it. Almost. “Thank you, Ragdoll. It means a lot to hear that from you.”

She didn’t respond, but rather moved to the front of the room, where the whiteboard wall was. She was still holding his Hero Analysis For The Future #0 notebook in her hand. “Alright, so let's start from the beginning. Everyone has heard of the glowing baby, but what is more relevant to you is the theories that surround why quirks started appearing. Almost everyone just kind of accepts that quirks are a way of life — as simple as breathing. However, they rarely think about why they even appeared in the first place. The most popular theory among physicist communities, and my personal theory of choice, is the ‘Meta Energy Theory’ by Norwegian physicist Roald Carlson. This theory is foundationally built upon the ‘Dark Energy’ craze of the 21st century, where the expansion of the universe was inexplicable without theoretical forms of energy and matter that did not interact with light. These forces weren’t detectable using conventional methods and posed several complications in evidence gathering.” 

“Carlson’s theory suggests that quirks are another phenomenon in the same vein. That there is an energy field that is undetectable to us with our current technology, but it interacts with our physiology, which produces quirks. He also proposes that a majority of quirks are simply manipulations of this energy. His evidence for this undetectable energy field was that the Milky Way had entered an area of high subatomic particle activity, signifying that…”

After hours of incredibly stimulating scientific hearsay, the other heroes were finally returning from their mission. Izuku, Ragdoll, and Kota waited in the opening foyer of the headquarters. Izuku eyed Kota, who was standing still with his arms crossed. He still couldn’t get any good reads from the kid’s permanently miffed expression. His eyes were like lasers, boring into the doorway and disregarding everything else around him. Izuku leaned over, “Hey Kota, you excited to learn what the rest of the team has been up to?”

All he got in return was a grunt. ‘ Ok. I see how it is. ‘

“So Kota, you want to become like your aunt someday? Helping people out in need?”

That got his attention. Izuku realized too late, however, that it was not in a good way. Kota’s stare at the door pivoted over to him. Instead of the face of annoyance the boy had worn just moments prior, there was nothing besides malice behind those eyes. “Don’t talk to me, Baldy.”

Kota swiftly fixed his gaze on the door once again, while Izuku mentally backpedaled. He hadn’t interacted with a lot of people younger than him, but surely they couldn’t all be filled with hatred. ‘ Baldy is a new one. ’ 

Ragdoll, next to Izuku, failed in stifling a laugh. Lashing his head in her direction, he was about to defend his honor, but before he could, Mandalay, Pixie Bob, and Tiger all shuffled in through the doors. Each was wearing their iconic feline outfits, but the white accents of each were now stained brown and green from dirt. Pixie Bob looked absolutely exhausted with her eyes half closed and hobbling on one leg, leaning onto Tiger for support. Tiger didn’t look much better, though. His back was hunched and was dragging his feet through the entryway. Mandalay looked the best out of the three, but even she still looked tired. 

Ragdoll ran up to them and helped Pixie Bob stand. Ragdoll passively scolded them, “Over the phone, you guys said that the rock slide wasn’t that big of a deal!”

Mandalay nodded absently, “It wasn’t that big of a deal. It just required a lot of soil removal and foundation reinforcements. There weren’t any missing people, thankfully, but the sudden shift of weight on the mountain put the town in the valley in danger of a larger landslide. So we had to set up walls and run emergency evacuations. It took longer than I thought it would, though.”

The other two Pussycats hummed in agreement. Kota had run up to Mandalay’s leg, but whatever he was saying was inaudible to Izuku. Izuku walked up to Tiger and asked if he needed any help, but only got a lazy hand shooing him away. Nodding, Izuku just stood there awkwardly as the heroes quietly dispersed. Tiger had gone off by himself while Ragdoll supported Pixie Bob’s movements. Soon, it was just him, Mandalay, and Kota left. He hadn’t really thought about what heroes do post-mission before, but this gave him a pretty good idea of how ragged heroes become after several hours on the job. 

Walking nervously over to Mandalay and the little devil, Izuku said, “I’m glad you all came back in one piece.”

Mandalay patted Kota’s head before turning to Izuku, “Yeah. I honestly didn’t do nearly as much manual labor as the other two, since my quirk doesn’t really help out physically. But at the end of the day, we secured the site and prevented it from getting any worse, so it was a job well done. Sorry about the delay to your training. Did you and Ragdoll at least find something useful to do?”

Izuku scratched his head, “Yeah. I mean, she went over a lot of theories for why quirks came about. She also established a baseline for where I am at in the,” Izuku paused and held up his hand and motioned quotation marks with two bent fingers, “‘curriculum.’ Not exactly sure if I could say any of it is useful, but it was pretty interesting to learn about. Couldn’t record any of it, though, since I still can’t write.”

Mandalay nodded and looked at her watch, “That works. Establishing baselines is our goal for the next few days. It’s about noon and I haven’t had lunch, so how about you go back to your room for a bit and I’ll come get you when I’m ready. Our regular schedule of meeting with each of us isn’t going to work today. Tiger and Pixie Bob need to rest and I’m sure you can only handle so much of Ragdoll’s spiels on the origins of quirks. So I’ll work with you for a bit and then you’re free to catch up on school work.”

Izuku nodded hesitantly as he glanced at Kota, “Are you sure you don’t need to rest more as well? I mean, from the sounds of it, you all have had quite the morning.”

“It's fine, Midoriya. When I said I didn’t do much of the menial labor, I meant it. I mainly supervised and oversaw the cleanup. I have a little bit of a headache from overusing my quirk, but it’ll go away soon enough.” She smiled wearily, “Did Ragdoll… Did she talk to you about yesterday?”

“Uh, yeah. She did. She mentioned that her quirk has been acting up recently. I thought it would’ve been rude to ask her, but did something happen during the slime villain attack that could’ve affected her quirk? Quirk malfunctions aren’t super uncommon, but they usually deal with some sort of head trauma. She seemed fine this morning, but is everything ok with her?”

Mandalay didn’t look back at him, but rather fixated on Kota, “Um…. Yeah. Ragdoll is fine. I was with her for the entire fight and she never sustained any injuries like that.” She stammered, “Anyways, I’m gonna go rest for a bit and then prepare lunch. Come on Kota.”

Mandalay walked past him with Kota in tow. Standing there for a moment, Izuku couldn’t help but feel like there was something weird about how Mandalay responded. From their few interactions thus far, it definitely didn’t seem like she’d be one to mince her words like that. Either she was more tired than she was letting on or something strange was happening.

Standing alone in the open foyer, Izuku had a chill run through his spine. Something had just felt off about everything he’d been told so far about Ragdoll. Izuku wondered if there was a serious medical issue Ragdoll was facing and they didn’t want Izuku to know about it. He remembered Officer Tamagawa’s words about letting heroes have their private lives and decided to drop his suspicions. They wouldn’t be doing him any favors anyways. Secrets or not, he was still stuck here for the foreseeable future. 

Izuku looked outside one of the windows before following the path he had taken yesterday to his room. As he reached the dead end hallway that his room was connected to, he finally let himself slouch a bit. He’d been so focused on presenting himself well that he’d already become mentally fatigued — and the day was hardly halfway over. 

The hollowness he’d felt that morning resurfaced as he reflected on how frustrated he had grown with himself throughout the day. He hadn’t been able to write down any of the information Ragdoll had been telling him, and every time he got in a groove of absorbing her teachings, his nub would throb and throw him out of it. It was all so infuriating. He needed to do better. He can’t change that he lost half his arm, but he needed to get better without it. And he needed to be better now.

Aggressively dropping himself onto his bed, Izuku sighed deeply. Who was he kidding? It was gonna take him forever to get any sort of proficiency with only one hand. And that is just for regular mundane things, not crime fighting. What if he’s never going to reach that point? If he doesn’t get past something as simple as writing, then how in the world would he learn how to be the hero his dad would want him to be?

He thought about how Tiger had just waved off his help just now. He knew it was still the first day he’d been there, but it stung that the behemoth didn’t trust him enough to ask for his help. Izuku couldn’t help but feel dejected about the whole interaction. 

If he had two hands, would Tiger have accepted his help? Or maybe he had just been so aloof yesterday, Tiger simply wanted nothing to do with him. What if it had nothing to do with yesterday and his hand? What if Tiger just decidedly didn’t want him around after he’d burned him during the slime attack? 

Izuku shook his head. He had to be overthinking all of this, right? He knew Tiger wasn’t the most talkative person ever, but he had seemed supportive enough of Izuku’s presence when he’d first arrived. Tiger was probably just tired and focused on making it to his bed. Izuku would’ve just gotten in his way. 

‘ Hm. Getting in people’s ways. Isn’t that the story of my life? ’ Izuku thought bitterly as memories of Katsuki rushed to mind. With that pleasant thought, Izuku sat up and gently grabbed the All Might bobble head off of his nightstand. He examined the details of the black and red suit before saying, “All Might, everyone loves you. I don’t think I’ve met a single person who’s seen you and reacted poorly. It’s almost like a quirk on its own. Being likable.”

Izuku paused, shocked by his own words. When had he become so resentful of his perception? He remembered having thoughts like this frequently before his quirk manifested, but he’d outgrown that mentality years ago. Absorbed in thought, Izuku placed down the bobble head. That was enough discussion with All Might. 

He didn’t need to guess why these thoughts were surfacing. It was fairly obvious. Without an arm, he knew the treatment he’d gotten when he’d been quirkless was going to come back. The looks of pity and disgust. The way people avoided him like quirklessness was contagious. Focussing on the textbooks littering the desk across the room, he muttered to himself, “No. Izuku, you’ve already gone down this road before. You don’t need the gratification of other people liking you. You just need their respect. Show them that you’re capable. Work so that there’s no room for doubt. Don’t give them the chance to look at you in pity.”

Standing up, he marched over to his desk and swiped the textbooks off of it. A loud crash echoed through the room, but Izuku paid it no mind. Grabbing a notebook and pen, Izuku got to work, vowing he’d be able to write by the end of the week.

Mandalay walked into Ragdoll’s room, her hair glistening, fresh from the shower. With a towel in her hands, Mandalay slowly patted her hair dry as she approached Ragdoll from behind. Ragdoll, oblivious to her teammate's approach, continued rapidly typing on her mechanical keyboard. Peering over the green hair girl’s shoulders, Mandalay examined what was being worked on. It seemed to be a profiling using the Hero Public Safety Commission’s criminal record system. Usually, that application was reserved for criminals they subdue, but Mandalay knew they hadn’t apprehended anyone since the slime incident. With a tap of the shoulder, Ragdoll screamed and jumped out of her chair in surprise, only for the corded headphones she was wearing to be yanked back downwards, flying off her head. 

With heavy breaths, Ragdoll cried, “SOSAKI. Don’t sneak up on me like that!” 

Laughing, Mandalay just leaned closer to the computer screen. “You’re making a profile on Midoriya? I thought this entire thing was supposed to be off the books?”

Through ragged breaths, Ragdoll replied, “It is. Officially. Unofficially, Izuku is still a criminal and has to be monitored, which we agreed to do when we offered to take the kid in. The HPSC is super strict with these kinds of things. If we don’t make regular reports on Midoriya, then it's not outlandish to say that the HPSC would be knocking down our doors and putting us out of business within a week.”

Mandalay simply hummed in acknowledgment as she scanned through the file. “Abnormally high intelligence? Eraser Head let us know that Midoriya was smart, but don’t you think this is a bit premature? You only spent one morning with him.”

Ragdoll waved her away from the computer as she sat back down, “And that was enough for me to realize that we aren’t dealing with a normal teenager. We went over some quirk theory today, and his base understanding is already collegiate level. He showed me some notebooks he’s been working on for the past few years. He had comprehensive notes and analysis of every hero you could probably think of. And they were good. Almost professional.”

Ragdoll looked back at Mandalay and smirked, “He said your quirk was useful, but largely problematic in a majority of combat scenarios.”

Mandalay squinted her eyes, “He didn’t say that.”

“Oh yes, he did. He said that your quirk is ineffective in a majority of scenarios because you lack the ability to have two-way communication. He compared you to a microphone and said you weren’t as practical as a radio.”

Mandalay shook her head in disbelief. “Wow. You take a kid into your home and within a day he’s taking potshots at you. The nerve. What did he say about you then?”

Ragdoll wore a shit-eating grin, “Oh, nothing important. Just that I had the most desirable quirk out of our team, and that the applications of it were nearly endless. He had three entire pages in his notebook dedicated to me. How sweet.”

Mandalay rolled her eyes and crossed her arms dramatically, “I can’t believe this. No wonder you think he’s so smart. But seriously, what else should I know about Midoriya, other than he has poor tastes in quirks?”

Ragdoll at this point had already gone back to rapidly typing into the system. “Well. His dad was a quirk analyst and he’s been studying his father’s materials for nearly half of the last decade. He’s got a fundamental understanding of electrostatics and thermodynamics, as well as calculus. Entirely self-taught, too, since he’s been doing the typical middle school curriculum up till now. All things considered, I’d think it's safe to say he’s abnormally smart.”

“So, we have a genius on our hands that is probably smarter than any of us. Great. Could’ve used a little heads up from UA or the police department.” Mandalay said, exasperated. 

“I don’t think they knew. When I went to UA to speak with Nezu, he had shown me Midoriya’s personal health records. Don’t ask me how he acquired them, but nothing on it had pinned Midoriya as having an intelligence quirk. In fact, he is classified by the government as having a fire quirk, but he didn’t develop it until he was 12. Speaking of his quirk, he created a notebook on himself.” 

Mandalay watched as Ragdoll hunched over and rummaged through a drawer under her desk, before pulling out a green notebook. “Here, I asked to borrow it. He said that since he couldn’t use his quirk or write without his right hand, I could hold onto it. It’s pretty detailed, and the experiments he does are pretty funny. His math needs correction, but it's still something we should keep in mind for his training. Did you know his flames are hot enough to melt porcelain within seconds? He certainly found out the hard way.” 

Mandalay carefully inspected the book before setting it back down on Ragdoll’s desk. “I have to meet with the little traitor now for some sort of lesson I have yet to plan. I’ll read through it later.”

Ragdoll nodded and Mandalay wordlessly left the room, dropping her damp towel in her teammate's hamper on the way out.

With three knocks, Mandalay made her presence known. Standing patiently outside the door, she heard a faint “Fuck!” followed by the heavy sound of footsteps. ‘ He sure knows how to make an entrance. ’ 

After a couple of seconds, the door was thrust open, revealing a disgruntled Izuku, rapidly fixing his appearance. Glancing behind him, she could see piles of textbooks flung haphazardly on the ground. She looked at Izuku with an inquisitive stare as she raised an eyebrow, “Having fun?”

Izuku quickly exited the room and slammed the door shut behind him, “Oh, the funnest time imaginable. Is it time for training?”

Mandalay pretended not to notice the rapid conversation redirection and simply began walking down the hallway, “Yeah. From what I hear from Ragdoll, you’re quite the genius. Since I’m a little sore, I think I’ll hold off on the physical training for now and we can focus on something more mental.”

Making her way to the “War Room,” their affectionately dubbed mission debriefing room, Mandalay began brainstorming on exactly what to teach Izuku. She remembered what Ragdoll had said about him not being able to write anything, so it couldn’t be anything too complex. 

The room they entered was cramped, filled with file cabinets and chairs. At the center of the room stood a sizeable circular wooden table. There wasn’t much area for movement, but Mandalay meandered her way to the opposite side of the room, collecting stacks of miscellaneous paperwork as she moved.

“Alright Midoriya, Ragdoll tells me that you’re quite gifted in quirk analysis, so I think we should start in a similar realm. As I mentioned before, I will largely be responsible for teaching you battle strategy, quirk application, and leadership while you’re here with us.”

She took a seat at the far end of the room, while Izuku sat opposite to her. “So today, I’d like to teach you a little about quirk compatibility. And before you ask, no, I don’t mean biologically. You’ll have to save that for someone else.”

Mandalay smiled as her joke elicited a small chuckle out of Izuku, “What I mean is splitting up personnel based on quirk affinities.  Often times in battle, splitting up is a necessary tactic. However, if groupings are chosen poorly, it could be disastrous for the mission and can also put everyone’s lives in danger. For example, you should always consider if quirks work well in tandem. If you have a fire type quirk user such as yourself, you shouldn’t pair them with a water type quirk in a majority of cases. There are times when that combination may be useful, but typically one would just cancel out the strength of the other.”

Izuku nodded enthusiastically, “I’ve done a lot of mock situations like this in my hero notebooks. I don’t know how effective my combinations were since none of my ideas were testable, but I think I’m familiar enough with the concept. How in depth are we going to go? Like for that fire and water example, would we also consider the application of steam?”

Grinning, Mandalay began to understand what Ragdoll had been telling her, “Yes, I plan on discussing all of that. And since you seem to have a little bit of experience, why don’t we start with a little demonstration?”

At the center of the table was a large, bulky, laptop. Mandalay grabbed it and began accessing the battle simulation software that was available through the Hero Public Safety Commission. It had been designed by Nezu years ago as a tool for strike force cohesiveness. ‘ The things that little Stout thinks of… ’

She turned the laptop around so that Midoriya could see. “Is this a battle simulator?” Izuku asked with surprise.

“Yep. Created by Nezu himself. It’s been found to be fairly accurate to real life situations. This is what we’ll be using to start training your battle intuition.”

Izuku was seemingly at a loss for words, but jostled excitedly in his seat. Mandalay plugged a cord into the laptop, and suddenly the computer screen was projected onto the adjacent wall. “Midoriya, stand over by the projection. I’m going to describe situations to you and you’re going to see them reflected by the simulation. I want you to describe what you see, the possible quirk combinations, and how each team should go about fighting the other.”

Without any hesitation, Izuku made his way to the wall, careful to not let his shadow interfere with the projection. Mandalay clicked a button and suddenly there were two dots on the screen, one with a lightning bolt, and another with a wave on it. Mandalay explained the situation, “This is Team One…”

With another click, another team appeared, this time one of the dots had a cape on it while the other had a shoe. “…And this is Team Two. Team One has an electric quirk and a water quirk, while Team Two has a flying quirk and a speed quirk. Both teams have quirks that are relatively common to make the simulation easier.”

“The location is the downtown district, filled with skyscrapers and interweaving alleyways. The heroes are the elemental team. Their goal is to keep property damage to a minimum while apprehending the villains. The villains are the maneuverability team, who are trying to escape the scene of a robbery with cases of cash. They succeed in escaping if they leave the city limits without being caught. What are your first thoughts?”

Mandalay watched in amusement as she could practically hear the gears churning in the boy’s head. While staring at the projection and lost in thought, Izuku subconsciously tapped his index finger and his thumb together rapidly. ‘ Must be a tic. I’ll have to teach him about the dangers of those sometime in the future. ‘ 

Without looking back, Izuku pondered, “Are there more details to these quirks? Like, does the water user have the ability to create water from the particles in the air? Or do they require a nearby water source to pull from? And what voltage does the electric quirk output? Does it disperse in precise lightning strikes, or does it release in an area of effect?” 

Mandalay laughed as she realized how fun this was going to be.

Chapter Text

One and a half weeks into his ten-month stay, Izuku already felt like ripping his nonexistent hair out. Underneath him, he could feel his leg bouncing relentlessly — as if it were possessed. Ragdoll was across the room, in front of a whiteboard with several markings on it. Today, Ragdoll wanted to perform a case study on Kamui Woods. She was inspired by Izuku’s short one-page analysis of the up-and-coming hero and wanted to demonstrate how a professional quirk analyzer would approach it. Typically, Izuku would have killed to have an opportunity like this. To have a quirk specialist hero converse with him about something straight out of his notebooks. 

Unfortunately for both of them, his mind was currently split into a million tiny pieces, and not a single one of them was focussing on the biology of a human tree. Izuku was much too focused on everything that was wrong with his life. Absentmindedly glaring at the analog wall clock above Ragdoll’s head, Izuku mused of his own failures. It'd been exactly 9 days, 22 hours, 13 minutes, and… 54 seconds since he had made a promise to both himself and the universe that he would have his left hand writing in a week’s time. Here he was, three days overdue and still outputting chicken scratch that would give a four-year-old a run for their money. Perhaps he and Kota were more alike than he thought. 

It made his heart burn, knowing that despite his countless hours of replicating online guides for kindergarteners, he was still stuck at square one. If he spent several minutes on each word, then it would come out somewhat decent-looking, but the impracticality of it was extremely grating to his psyche. Izuku imagined that this daily skill would be a small hurdle to tackle. It was supposed to be a good starting point for his recovery and represented a necessary step in his journey to becoming autonomous. If he could prove that he wasn’t a fragile package, then he wouldn’t have to be handled with care around the clock. 

Izuku hated being babied. It was like an irritating reminder of how insufficient he was on his own. The thought of it was enough for a spike of warmth to wind around his spine, jerking him out of his trance. Snapping his attention back to Ragdoll, he finally cared to register the words on the whiteboard. ‘Hormones: Auxin, Cytokinins, Gibberellins.’ Each of them had a patchwork of evidence and descriptions. Auxin provided the base for Kamui Woods’ body, motivating cell elongation. Cytokinins promoted the development of the hero’s branch-like limbs, and Gibberellins stimulated the sudden growth in said limbs. Ragdoll pointed to the board, “If I had to guess, Woods uses a mixture of these hormones for his at-will growth and controls it all through a chemical similar to Abscisic Acid. Typically, Abscisic Acid is used by plants to inhibit growth under times of stress or lack of resources, such as a drought or flood. However, if Kamui Woods’ quirk allowed his body to manipulate that hormone so that it acts more like a control switch, then we can explain how he can seemingly contort his limbs to fit his digressions. However, a possible drawback to this…”

Izuku tuned out again, his consciousness drawn to last night’s phone call with his mom. She apparently had Uncle Masaru and Aunt Mitsuki come over for dinner. His mom had reassured him that she told them he was staying with his biological uncle, which was relieving. In truth, he didn’t even remember that his dad had a younger brother since he rarely reached out after Hisashi died. Reportedly, the Bakugos seemed concerned but eventually went on to detail Katsuki’s life. He had seemingly been developing a new method for using his quirk that allowed him to fly. The Bakugos had gushed that there was no way for Katsuki to fail the UA entrance exam if he managed to perfect it. His mom had continued regurgitating how fantastic Katsuki’s life had become without him there for nearly an hour, still blissfully unaware of what had been transpiring between the two all of these years. Izuku had never come so close to hanging up on his mother.

He thought about Aldera Middle School and how without a quirk powerful enough to dissuade Katsuki from taking over the school, it had probably already turned into a dystopian oligarchy. The few friends he did manage to sustain were probably now bottom of the totem pole for their involvement with him. The thought made his skin crawl. Izuku also wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if there were already dozens of rumors circulating the school about him. All of them pleasant, he was sure.

His knee stopped bouncing as he, for the thousandth time, reflected on Katsuki Bakugo. No matter how much time passed, Katsuki’s feral visage during the slime villain attack continued to make frequent appearances in his psyche. Izuku’s finger began silently tapping on the pad of his thumb. Why was he getting so worked up over a guy who he’d been at odds with for years? This behavior wasn’t new. This entire thing was just more status quo. Izuku’s jaw tightened as his face grew progressively more flush with color. ‘ You’re being stupid, Izuku. Everything to do with Katsuki is in the past. You can’t fix what’s already broken. It was idiotic of you to try. All those fistfights behind Aldera should’ve told you that, but you were too dumb to register it. ’

A pressure began rising in his chest as his thoughts cascaded downwards. All his mistakes and how they led him here. How they lost him a hand, all over someone who had told him to kill himself on multiple occasions. The blaring self-condemnation was cut short by Ragdoll’s voice, “Midoriya, are you even listening?”

Snapping to attention, Izuku wiped his hand against his pant leg, smoothing the cloth. “Yes ma’am. I was just considering the different ways Abscisic Acid could be altered to become a control switch, like you said.”

Looking at Ragdoll, who had once again adorned her unnerving blank stare at him — a byproduct of her quirk, it was clear his quick response wasn’t entirely convincing. It also didn’t help that during his reply, a small puff of smoke escaped his nostrils. Damn his quirk.

Ragdoll deactivated her quirk and tilted her head curiously toward Izuku. “Alright, if you say so. So, what were your thoughts?”

Izuku shrugged as he felt the heat dissipate from his cheeks, “Nothing concrete yet. It’s hard to manipulate hormones without causing unexpected consequences.”

Simply nodding, Ragdoll hesitantly accepted his response before going back to what she was saying earlier. With an internal sigh, Izuku decided he’d better focus back on the lecture. It’d be rude for Ragdoll’s work to go to waste. 

So what if he hadn’t been there? What if he had continued deliberating between cereals in that corner store, ignorant of what was happening outside? Left it for the heroes to handle? Izuku figured the outcome would have been much better. He’d still have an arm, and All Might would’ve saved Katsuki in due time. Exactly like he had wanted. When all things were considered, his presence in the slime fight was an unneeded complication that only made the situation worse. That slime villain wasn’t capable of taking out the storefronts in that alleyway. No, that was all Izuku’s fault. 

His arms adopted goosebumps at the conclusion. He’d mused over this altered timeline ever since he’d awoken in the hospital short a hand. After everything he’d been told, there was no denying that his intervention was trivial. For being so smart, Izuku sure knew how to throw it all out the window when his impulses came into play. 

He focussed back on Mandalay’s intricate diagram, detailing a standard military hierarchy. He looked at Mandalay, who was making a triangle with her arms. Well, more accurately, an arrowhead, but he assumed it was meant to be a triangle. “So once you get down to the military line of command, personnel is broken down into ranks. The American military of old, for example, functioned on an intricate system of ranks that ran from higher-up powers like generals and colonels down to soldiers like ensigns and privates. They still uphold a similar ranking system, but it has since been heavily modified to add squadrons of quirk-specialized fighters.”

She paused and started writing on the whiteboard, “Here in Japan, heroes are licensed through the Hero Public Safety Commission, but most of their actions are independent of the government. For instance, Hero agencies are created on the desires of the heroes. Permits and government confirmation are required, but those companies are the heroes'.” 

“Heroes in America, however, are technically soldiers of the military. There are still hero agencies, but these are closer to glamorous military bases. The military creates and completely oversees these agencies and the heroes within them. Every step in their hero system is calculated, which is one of the reasons why they remain the world’s leader in heroism. Now, all of this may seem irrelevant, but the concept of ranks on the battlefield has proven its usefulness time and time again. When leading a team, each individual needs to know their responsibilities and…”

While the breakdown of military composition was intriguing to hear, and not something he’d ever learn at Aldera, it wasn’t enough to sustain Izuku’s attention. All morning he had been feeling it — the agitation. Everything around him became a cause for his irritability. Earlier that morning, he nearly reduced his jacket to a crisp for getting caught on a doorknob. If he hadn’t been specifically banned from using his quirk, it would’ve been toast. 

He looked down at his half-arm resting on the table. The large ‘flame tube’, as he liked to call it, was still disorientingly gross. Izuku itched for the opportunity to use his quirk again. To see the difference in power output. He imagined that a larger hole for the flames to come out of would elicit more heat and concussive force, but there was only one way of knowing that for sure. The longer Izuku went without using his quirk, the more it felt like he could explode at a moment’s notice. 

For the second time that day, Izuku was interrupted from his thoughts, “Midoriya!” 

He looked back up to Mandalay, who was staring directly at him, “Welcome back to the world of the living. I’ve said your name three times now.” She pursed her lips, “You clearly aren’t paying attention, so continuing to lecture you would be pointless.”

“Wait, Mandalay, I was just-”

Mandalay sat down across the table and looked at him sincerely, “Midoriya. Don’t lie to me. I can tell you’re not doing well. Ragdoll told me earlier you were acting strange.”

Izuku couldn’t say anything to that. Mandalay continued, “You know that I’m a licensed field therapist, right? You’re not gonna avoid it like you did with Ragdoll. Tell me what’s on your mind, kid.”

Izuku shrunk down in his chair, “I’m fine. I was just distracted, is all. We can continue.”

Mandalay gave him a prolonged stare, “Midoriya, the Wild Wild Pussy Cats aren’t just here to train you to become some super freshman at UA. I’m sure that’s what you’ve simplified your situation to, but that isn’t the case.” She paused and looked down for a moment as she capped her marker, “Do you know how we got the police department to agree to this arrangement?”

Izuku raised an uninterested eyebrow and shook his head.

“The only reason the police department went along with the proposal was because the WWPC isn’t just a hero team. Each of us has known each other for nearly two decades now — we’re much more than that. I hate this cliché, but we’re more like a family. We looked into your records and saw you were an only child to a widowed mother. That isn’t a circumstance that can foster healthy growth after an incident like you’ve just gone through. We convinced the police department to let you come stay here for your sentence because, above all else right now, you need people you can rely on. You need friends.” 

“I’m not going to pretend like you should be perfectly healthy, mentally or physically, after what you’ve been through. Losing a limb is a serious, life-changing event that some people never recover from. And to lose it as a result of your own quirk during a moment of distress isn’t some trivial thing. It’s traumatizing.”

Mandalay sighed, “Midoriya, you’re here because we want you here. Every single member of the team, including Kota, wants you to succeed. If you’re struggling with something, we want to help you, but we can’t do that if you don’t talk to us. So let me ask you again, is there anything on your mind? Any way we can help you?”

Izuku shook his head again. He acknowledged that the words she was saying were genuine, but the entire conversation was rubbing him the wrong way. It was exactly as he feared; they were looking at him with pity. Just like everyone did when he was quirkless. “Thanks, but I’m fine, Mandalay.”

Mandalay just looked at him with a sad expression as smoke visibly came out of his throat during his exhalation. “Alright. I’ll trust you, Midoriya. That when you do have something on your mind, you’ll tell us. It doesn’t have to be me. It can be anyone here, so don’t feel afraid to approach one of us.”

They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Mandalay stood up, “Alright then, I think that’s enough learning for now. How about you take it easy for a bit? I’ll go prepare some lunch. Considering how much you have to eat because of your quirk and since you’re training with Tiger after this, I’ll make sure it's filling.”

Izuku nodded and wordlessly escaped the room in a blur. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to be looked down upon and babied. He was capable, couldn’t they see that? 

Was he really, though? Was he so capable that he couldn’t even learn to write properly? The thought added fuel to his already blazing fire. Swiftly making his way to his room, his mind lingered on how much of a nuisance his dietary needs were. Somehow, even lunch was beginning to piss him off.

Taking another plate into her hand, Mandalay nervously glanced around the kitchen as her teammates cleaned up lunch. She wanted to see if they would bring up the very large and very dangerous elephant in the room. Throughout Midoriya’s one-and-a-half-week tenure at their facility, there have been quite a few awkward meals, but lunch today had to take the cake. Not only was he non-responsive to the majority of antics that Pixie Bob had thrown his way, he also just blankly glared at his plate of food whenever he wasn’t directly spoken to. His swift exit after the meal also didn’t ease any concerns. Scrubbing the plate before dipping it into the soapy water below, Mandalay opened her mouth to start some sort of discussion, but Pixie Bob beat her to it.

Across the kitchen, wiping down the cooking surfaces, Pixie Bob asked nonchalantly, “So… What’s wrong with the kitten?”

Tiger’s gruff voice responded, “Which one?”

Ragdoll chimed in, “Midoriya. Obviously. Kota is always like that, but Midoriya is usually more talkative. Did you guys see the way he was giving his plate the death stare? It was like he was trying to unlock laser vision or something.”

Mandalay sighed in relief, “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who noticed. He’s been in a mood all day. I even cut my time with him in half so that he could clear whatever was on his mind. Before I called it a day, I caught him just staring into space like three times.”

Ragdoll hummed, “You’d think he’d be smart enough to realize that during one-on-one lectures, there are no classmates to divide the teacher’s attention.”

“So he’s been acting weird all day? Now that you mention it, Midoriya also acted a bit odd yesterday when I was going through quirk regulations with him. Should we ask him what’s wrong?” Pixie Bob asked.

“No, I already tried that. If we push him too hard, then he’s probably not going to open up to any of us. I told him that all of us were willing to listen to him if he had something on his mind, but he didn’t seem very receptive at the time. He even blew smoke out his mouth.”

Tiger grunted in response. Mandalay focused on the bowl now in her hand as she washed it. What could be going on? Midoriya hadn’t mentioned anything in the past few days that could’ve indicated something had changed. Pixie Bob suggested an idea, “Well, I haven’t worked with him yet today, but maybe something happened at home? Or do you think something else is wrong with him?”

Ragdoll scoffed, “Well considering it hasn’t even been three weeks since he went through a horrifically gory villain attack, in which he lost an arm due to his quirk, I’d wager ‘yes, there is something else wrong with him’.”

Even though she wasn’t looking at her, Mandalay already knew Pixie Bob was rolling her eyes dramatically, “Ok. Yes. So how exactly do we help him with that? I don’t exactly have experience with losing a limb, so I don’t know what kind of help he actually needs… Or wants, for that matter.”

Mandalay shrugged as she got another dish to clean. “I think all we can do is just remind him that we are there for him. We push too hard and it’ll probably just blow up in our faces.”

Pixie Bob scrunched her nose, “Yeah, we’ve already had that happen once before. Didn’t end well.”

Softly chuckling, Mandalay turned around and leaned her back against the sink counter. “Oh, just wait until Midoriya hears you joking like that. With the way smoke has been coming out of him all day, I’m sure he’d love to test out his quirk on a live specimen.”

Ragdoll laughed, “Seriously, there has to be something we can do to get Midoriya out of his shell. Maybe all the smoke is a sign he just wants to use his quirk again.”

Mandalay nodded, “Maybe. But the doctor had specifically given us instructions to not let him use his quirk for at least two weeks. We still have, like, three days to go.” She turned to Tiger, who was simply staring at a cup in his hands and repeatedly performing the same wiping motion, “Tiger, what do you think?”

Tiger gently placed the cup upside down on the drying rack. He let out a soft hum, “I think I’m going to be late for my training session with Midoriya.” He wiped his hands with a towel before briskly making his way out of the kitchen.

Mandalay shared a look with Ragdoll and Pixie Bob. “So, that was also weird, right?”

Pixie Bob threw her head back with a huff, “Boys, am I right?”

Midoriya was dragging his feet before he even stepped foot in the gym. As if his day hadn’t already had a poor start, while he tried changing into his athletic gear, his right arm got caught on the inside of his shirt. With no fingers to manipulate the fabric, he had to reach his left hand across his entire body and try to slide the shirt into place, which was aggravatingly easier said than done. His athletic pants proved just as much of a hindrance, with its elastic sticking to his legs, it was damn near impossible to pull them into place with a single hand. Anything and everything was being as difficult as possible for him today. 

If each of his struggles presented themselves on different days, there would have been no problem. But no. They all had to convene on a single morning. Shaking his head, he walked through the large doors into the training room where he’d been working on his base strength for the past week. Most of the exercises he’d been working on had been tame, working on balancing the right side of his body with his left. Now that he was left-handed, he assumed the strength of his left side would overtake his right at some point. If Tiger had his way, however, Izuku’s body would be perfectly balanced on each side… somehow. Izuku didn’t know how much an arm weighed, but he was sure that this ‘balance’ the hero spoke of could only be achieved by an imbalance. With that thought in mind, Izuku opened the large gymnasium doors, expecting Tiger to already start drilling him on proper form on the equipment. 

To Izuku’s surprise, however, Tiger greeted him by throwing a large sandbag at his feet. “Midoriya, we are doing something different today. Instead of using the gym equipment here, we’re going to test out the natural habits your body makes in everyday motions. That way, we can better tailor a workout program for you based on your body’s deficits. Pick that up and follow me.”

Without missing a beat, Tiger had grabbed a backpack and was already making his way across the gym to a side door Izuku had never even acknowledged before. Bending down to grab the bag, Izuku couldn’t help but be a little excited. So far, his training had been so mundanely normal. Maybe today he was finally getting to do something hero-related. It was about damn time. He could feel the fire already started bubbling inside him with anticipation. 

This whole ban on using his quirk was killing him slowly. Doctor-mandated or not, Izuku resented every second he couldn’t use his quirk. 

Squeezing the bag between his left hand and the end of his right arm, he pulled the bag upwards just enough to leverage his knee underneath it. With another heave, Izuku planted the weight onto his left bicep and then onto his shoulder for stability. ‘ Who needs two hands? ’   Izuku joked bitterly.

Izuku only made it to the doorway before realizing his plan wasn’t going to work. The bag was already sliding off his shoulder and it was heavier than he’d been prepared for. It had to weigh at least 14 or 15 kilograms. That, unfortunately, meant that he’d have to find a way to carry this thing with one and a half hands. Izuku glanced at the door, which had already closed behind Tiger. He had to hurry. If there was one thing Izuku learned about Tiger in the past week, it was that punctuality was very important to him. So was workout form. But he was willing to get yelled at for form if it meant he would get to Tiger sooner. Leaning back onto his heels, Izuku let the weight slip onto his chest before wrapping his arms underneath it. It wasn’t a great solution and absolutely slaughtered his back, but it worked. 

Precariously opening the door, he found himself face to face with an expansive treeline. From his partial view, Izuku could tell he was on the backside of the property, closest to the mountainous area he had seen when he’d first arrived. Tiger was an increasingly small figure in the distance. With another heave to lift the bag higher, Izuku speed walked in the hero’s direction.

Thankfully, Tiger eventually stopped walking at the base of a cliffside. Unfortunately, it was about 100 meters away and by the time Izuku finally caught up, he was desperately out of breath. Damn. Izuku swore he was in better shape than this. I mean, he wasn’t a naturally gifted athlete, but he had definitely been working on it over the past few years. He should’ve been able to at least do this without dying. Izuku grimaced as he plopped down the sandbag at Tiger’s feet, ‘ Yet another thing I lost in the fight. ’ 

Tiger looked down at the bag. “It took you a whole forty-three seconds after I stopped walking to reach me. You’ll have to get that time down.”

Izuku breathed heavily, “Yes sir.”

Tiger walked over to the side and pointed up to the flat top of the cliffside while reaching into his pocket for a stopwatch. “Now. Let's get you warmed up and limber. You see that ridge in the mountain? Run there and back. I’ll be timing you. If you take more than twelve minutes, you’re doing it again. Got it? Go.”

Izuku couldn’t believe his ears. The ridge in question had to be at least a kilometer straight up, not to mention the winding path to get there. Looking back at Tiger in a mixture of confusion and panic, Izuku responded, “Really? All the way up and all the way back? No quirk?”

Tiger just crossed his arms and replied dryly, “Yup. Twelve minutes should be plenty of time. Clock is ticking. Better get up there quick.”

Izuku turned and ran.

By the time he had made his way back down the mountain, Tiger was sitting on the bag of rice shaking his head, holding up the stopwatch. “Fourteen minutes! Get back up there!”

Izuku groaned in exasperation as he pivoted on his heel and returned the way he’d come. This time, however, he at least knew the pathway and had his blood pumping. Running wasn’t Izuku’s strong suit by any stretch of the imagination, but he was at least familiar with the science behind it. He had researched it with hopes of outrunning Katsuki and his goons when he’d been quirkless. It never worked. He sneered as he dug his foot into the loose gravel beneath him, ‘ Katsuki .’

Like a spark erupting into an inferno, memories of Izuku’s past flashed in his mind. The paranoia. The fear. The resentment. He was bitterly reminded of all those times he had clung desperately onto his All Might lunchbox as he peaked outside each and every doorway. The threat of Katsuki and his lackeys lying in wait following him like a phantom, haunting his every move. If he ever got spotted by one of them, they’d immediately change course straight towards him. Izuku’s already ragged breath fell out of rhythm and became increasingly erratic as he glanced up at the winding trail in front of him. 

Shutting his eyes, Izuku picked his pace up considerably. The world around him drifted into obscurity as he focused on nothing more than just releasing the pain with each stab of his foot into the rock beneath him. No child should ever fear for his life walking home from elementary school. No child should constantly look over their shoulder expecting to see his tormentor. No child should ever be told that they could die and no one would care if they were gone. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Izuku could feel the familiar tingle of warmth ensnare his spine.

As he reached the ridge, Izuku paused momentarily. As the crisp spring air filled his lungs, he scolded himself for letting his mind slip. His emotions about the past were seeping into every crack and crevice of his psyche. What was in the past should stay there. Recollecting the worst moments of his life won’t make anything any better. He needed to move on and grow up. Letting his experiences dictate his worldview wasn’t heroic. If he let this control him now, he’d never make it as a pro. This constant resentment wasn’t what Izuku wanted, and it definitely wasn’t what his dad wanted for him, either.

He watched the horizon as a bird dove into the thick foliage of the forest. His subconscious didn’t share the same resoluteness, ‘ But what if Katsuki gets into UA with you? What will you do then? ’

Izuku grit his teeth and glanced down at Tiger, who was just staring right back up at him, motionless. Sharply turning, Izuku propelled himself off a sizeable rock beneath him, splintering its core and leaving it to crumble into pieces. 

As he made his way down the mountain, his mind became a battleground for two rival ideologies, his body a casualty of the war. Every movement he made became rigid and forced. He could feel his muscles tightening. The ground beneath him progressively became more and more jarring as his legs no longer braced the impacts. Balling his hand into a fist, Izuku cast everything away from his mind and turned his complete attention to getting down the mountain as fast as humanly possible, regardless of his own safety.

Upon his arrival at the bottom of the mountain, Izuku was met with something he’d become reacquainted with over the past two weeks, a sympathetic gaze. The battle in his mind quieted as one side claimed a decisive victory. 

He hated that look. Why couldn’t everyone see that they shouldn’t be looking down on him? That he didn’t need their sympathy? He didn’t want sympathy. It wouldn’t do him any good. He just had to improve and he’d be alright. That’s what he was there for. To improve. To learn to be a hero. He wasn’t there to get dawdled on like a helpless child. 

Tiger seemingly picked up on Izuku’s thoughts quickly, releasing the soft expression, and returned to his role of drill sergeant. “Good. You made a better time. Still not fast enough, though.” Tiger reached into his bag and pulled out a water bottle. “Drink. You have a thirty-second break, and then we are getting started.”

Tiger tossed the bottle to Izuku, who gingerly caught it. “Are we finally doing something with hero work?”

Tiger grunted, “No. You’re nowhere near ready for that. It’s as I said. You are going to perform exercises without machinery to help me define your abilities and body structure. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Thirty seconds passed in the blink of an eye, and Tiger made sure Izuku had his eyes on him. Making two marks in the ground five meters apart, Tiger explained, “These are your starting and stopping lines. I want you to pick up the sandbag and sprint back and forth between these lines. Imagine the sandbag is an injured civilian and you are evacuating them out of an active crime scene. Repeat this 40 times. Is that clear?”

Izuku looked at the lines and wiped a drop of sweat off his brow, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now pick up the bag and get into position. Like with everything else, you will be timed on this. Today, you are setting your own benchmark for training. Do not go overboard, or you will regret it in the future.”

Nodding, Izuku grappled with the bag and managed to carry it to the line. Tiger continued, “I will tell you when to begin. Prepare the bag in whatever orientation makes you believe you will last all 40 reps.”

After some shuffling and a slight pause, Izuku’s task began. 

He had to be holding a grudge. There was no other explanation. Tiger had to be holding a grudge against him for the burn he’d given him during the slime villain attack. The regiment Izuku had been could only be the unholy offspring of spite and sadism. The role of drill sergeant had to have gone to Tiger’s head and now Izuku was paying the price.

Upon completion of the 40 sandbag sprints, Izuku’s body was already giving up on him. His stomach had decided that his lunch was no longer welcome in it and sent it back the way it came. His shoulders felt like they would slide right off his body at a moment's notice, and his thighs burned from exhaustion. The “sandbag squats” as Tiger called them had taken the last of his energy from his legs, and now Izuku could do nothing but wallow in his agony. He bitterly joked to himself about how overrated legs were and how he didn’t need them anyway. 

Typically, Izuku often felt relaxed after working out; the motions were cathartic and made him feel like he was improving as a person. Regrettably, all he was feeling right now was frustration and a distinct animosity for Tiger’s barbaric training methods. He wasn’t even out of hell yet, either. The mad instructor still had more exercises.

Izuku glanced tiredly up at Tiger, who had already started detailing the next activity. “Sandbag jumps,” as he callously called them. Four sets of eight. Izuku’s head dropped, he was going to die here.

Izuku heaved the bag up into his arms, similar to the way he had carried it out of the gym. Upon Tiger’s signal, he began his stationary hops. The pain coursing through every muscle fiber of his body reinforced Izuku’s belief that he wouldn’t be able to move at all tomorrow. 

He’d only managed to complete two sets of the jumps before collapsing onto his knees. He just couldn’t do it anymore. The eagerness he’d been filled with at the start of the training session had been completely murdered, leaving behind only a silent fury for just about everyone and everything. Izuku’s body went limp as he sunk his body weight on his legs beneath him.

Out of his left ear, he could hear the approaching footsteps of Tiger but was too tired to avert his gaze from the ground in front of him. Tiger’s loud voice pierced his eardrums, “What are we doing here, Midoriya? Giving up on heroics already? If you can’t handle something like this, then how would you ever survive in a real fight? Maybe you’re just not cut out for hero work. The whole slime incident must’ve been a fluke.”

Izuku groaned with everything he could muster, too tired to form words. Tiger's act of harsh drill sergeant was not new or surprising, but it certainly did piss Izuku off at the moment. Pushing himself up, Izuku rested his body weight on one knee as he set his footing with his other leg. Tiger humphed, “That’s the spirit. Perhaps there’s some Plus Ultra in you yet. You’re gonna have to pull yourself together, though, you have one last exercise. Punching. Five sets of ten punches, alternating between overhead and lateral. Focus on coordinating your hips, shoulders, and elbows.”

That slightly piqued his attention. Still not looking at Tiger, Izuku asked exasperatedly, “Punches? We haven’t even gone over the proper form for that.”

Tiger’s footsteps began receding, “Find your own form. This is all about finding what works for you, remember? From what I could tell during that slime fight, this is something you greatly need. A pipsqueak like you should’ve never escaped my grasp. You utilized a nasty trick to get me to let go of you. So much good that got you, kid. Call it Karma.”

A rush of energy flowed through his searing muscles. Pretending to be a harsh military trainer was one thing, but openly mocking his loss of an arm was another. The heat that had been budding along his back all day began spreading rapidly, crawling across his abdomen and climbing up and down his limbs. The nape of his neck felt as though it was under a blazing iron. Izuku clenched his teeth and kept his eyes tightly shut. He couldn’t give Tiger the satisfaction of freaking out. He had to remain composed. 

Regardless of his resistance, Tiger’s words echoed in his mind as he shakily got to his feet. ‘Pipsqueak’? Sure, Izuku was fine with that. He was skinny and it was far from an original nickname. He’d been called that thousands of times by Katsuki. What bothered him so much was Tiger’s fragrant disparagement of the situation. Had Izuku burned him? Yes. Did he deserve to lose half his goddamn arm because of it? No.

Izuku felt the heat he’d been internalizing spread outwards to his skin. The sweat he’d been coated in began to fizzle before evaporating into a wispy gas. Within seconds, Izuku adorned a cloak of vapor. The foul stench of burning cloth entered Izuku’s nostrils before it was swiftly removed with the breeze. 

Standing as tall as his body would let him, he boldly uttered, “Don’t…”

Tiger stopped walking and turned to face the steaming boy. Temper flaring, Izuku met his gaze with a harsh scowl and a low tone. “Don’t pretend like the controlled burn I gave you is even comparable to losing my arm. It's pathetic to compare them. Your skin healed. I’m still missing an arm. Don’t be a fool. I lost an arm because of a stupid stunt. It isn’t even close.”

Tiger just continued staring at him with a monotone expression, his eyes cold, unfazed by the misty aura now surrounding the boy. “You said it best. It was stupid. You got yourself in that situation with your own arrogance. There was no need for you to intervene, and certainly no need for you to lose your arm.” 

The behemoth of a man crossed his arms and strengthened his footing, almost as if he were preparing for a fight, “I don't know what's more pathetic, my inability to stop you, or your inability to stop yourself. Now go to the base of the cliff and start the exercise.”

Every inch of Izuku’s body screamed for action as he held his glare steadfast on the man. He briefly considered his odds in a fight with the pro, right here, right now. He exhaled heavily, releasing a large plume of smoke, clouding the space between them. The odds weren’t good. With a huff, Izuku swiveled on his heel, “Fine.”

He couldn’t help but compare this standoff to the ones he’d experienced with Katsuki, especially during his time at Aldera. Once he’d developed his quirk, the dynamics between them had gotten exponentially more complex. Since they each had devastating power, their conflicts were often moderated by the danger posed to both sides. A mutually assured destruction. Even still, on several occasions, their tempers would flare to the point of physical non-quirk combat. 

Izuku was no slouch physically, but much like his current situation with Tiger, Katsuki was far superior in terms of athleticism and strength. Although he resented it every second of every day, for the majority of his childhood, he had to admit that Katsuki was a physical prodigy. Not only was his quirk strong, but his body and mind were just as sharp. It made their confrontations disgustingly thorny.

At the very least, however, he could throw hands with Katsuki. If he tried a fight with Tiger, he’d likely end up as a smear on the ground. It irked him immensely. Tiger was picking a fight with someone he knew he could beat. As if still haunted by Katsuki’s presence, past taunts burst into Izuku’s mind, reminding him of how weak he was. Tiger probably held the same mindset. That he was every bit as insignificant as Katsuki always preached.

Izuku approached the stony cliffside he’d been instructed to train at, the trail of steam that followed subsiding as its source of moisture dried. The afternoon sun was blocked by the towering mountainside, casting a shadow that loomed over the scattered rocks and gravel underneath. It was a fitting atmosphere for his mood. As he set his feet for the exercise, Izuku felt the emotional dam he’d been reinforcing since the slime villain attack falter. ‘ No. Dammit, Izuku! Calm. The fuck. Down. A freak-out here would destroy any shot you have at making the Pussycats respect you. If you want to stop getting looked down at, you need to keep it together. Show Tiger that you are composed. Show him that you are capable. ’

As he drew back his left arm for his first punch into the air, his subconscious let its disagreement be heard. ‘What if he’s right? What if Katsuki has always been right? What if you’re weak and simply not cut out for hero work? What have you done so far that has proven them wrong? You were reckless running into that slime villain fight, you attacked a pro hero, and you ruined an entire shopping center! There is no heroism in that. You’re more of a villain than anything else! And with only one hand, you might as well be quirkless. Everyone will look at you the same anyway — a useless Deku. ’ 

As another punch was thrown outwards, Izuku's breath became rapid. With each quick exhale came smoke, blinding Izuku. His nose burned as the cloud of black expanded around him. The pain from his muscles became an afterthought as each of his subsequent punch became more uncoordinated than the last. All he could hear was the thumps of his heart beating in his chest. 

What was he even doing here? Training with the Pussycats? No matter what, nothing he’d do would ever be good enough. He tried being compassionate and got spat in the face for it. He tried to be people’s friend but got rejected at every turn. He tried being a hero and lost an arm because of it. 

Now look where he was —back to where he was before his quirk had ever manifested. Bottom of the social totem pole. People were already back to looking down on him. He could at least hide being quirkless. He couldn’t hide his failure. There was no hiding a missing arm. 

It was a futile thing. He was bound to go back to being the gum on peoples’ shoes. As, according to Katsuki, it was where he belonged. And how has Katsuki been proven wrong? Every step Izuku took was the wrong one. He was bound to fall victim to people’s preconceived notions of him. He was bound to always be the undesirable . 

Different faces from his past flashed across Izuku’s swirling mind. His mom’s shocked face, learning that he was quirkless. His kindergarten teacher’s guise of sympathy as he had to explain he didn’t have a quirk. Katsuki’s constant look of superiority. The expression of disappointment as he gazed at himself in the mirror. The pity that followed him wherever he went.

A sharp ringing began in Izuku’s head, bouncing off of his skull as his thoughts became increasingly turbulent. He stopped his punches and clutched his ears, clamping his eyes shut as he doubled over in pain. He hobbled a few steps and laid his left hand on the rock face for stability. 

Through the opaque fumes, Izuku caught a glimpse of his disfigured arm. The flesh of the tube in his arm sobered him for half a second before the rush came back stronger than ever. Like the snapping of a twig, Izuku’s control broke. He was no longer the one in charge of his body.

Leaning back onto his heels, Izuku let out a visceral scream. The heat that had been building up inside of him finally had an exit, and it did not miss its chance. An explosion of green flame erupted out of his mouth, illuminating the sky with brilliant hues of viridian. A shockwave of force accompanied the raging inferno, clearing the cloud of smoke that had been surrounding him. Heat radiated off of his body in droves, scorching the surrounding stone. In the blink of an eye, his dark charcoal substance shot out of his pores, enveloping his entire left arm, stopping just short of his shoulder. His right arm had discharged the liquid much more violently as it shot into the air before hovering around his nub and tightly winding itself around his skin, encasing his arm and half of his chest. In a brilliant flash of light, Izuku’s entire being became a pillar of shadowy green.

An ear-piercing hiss echoed across the valley as the rock surrounding Izuku began to bubble and pop. Momentarily stopping his scream, Izuku reached back before delivering as powerful of a punch as he could to the superheated cliff base. As the punch landed, Izuku could feel the rage flow stronger. His lack of answers vexed him. Why did he have to jump into that fight? Why was it that no matter how hard he tried, he just kept falling short? Why was he a constant bother to others? Was he really that insufferable?

The smell of burning clothing wafted up his nose, but it only satisfied Izuku’s current hunger for destruction. Izuku threw another wild haymaker toward the jagged rocks protruding from the cliffside. With each passing moment, the victim of his aggression was becoming softer. The idiocy of the actions was lost on Izuku as he threw another. And another. And another.

Quickly, blood began trickling down his left hand, the skin on his knuckles cracked and scraped open, revealing the red flesh underneath. The pain never reached Izuku’s brain. Fueled by unbridled anger and resentfulness, Izuku tilted his head back and released an involuntary roar into the afternoon sky. Powerful streams of flame shot out of his mouth in consecutive concussive blasts. For a moment, it was as if the Earth had gained a new viridian star. 

Izuku fixated on the melting rock in front of him as he continued to throw uncoordinated but devastating punches. The surrounding flames him immersed him in memories from the alley. Back against that corner with Katsuki. The declaration of defiance, mere moments from their deaths. The feral look on Katsuki’s face as he belittled Izuku’s deceased father. The chilling pop as his hand disappeared from existence. 

With another wild scream, Izuku raised his nub into the air and released every bit of anger, bitterness, and sorrow he had been holding back. A new, intense heat washed through the training ground as a resounding boom thundered across the valley. As if ejected from a rocket, a lone pillar of green fire erected into the air, the scale of the flames unparalleled by anything Izuku had created before. Its blinding light overpowered the sights of the surroundings, leaving only hues of green. 

With several deep breaths, Izuku stared at his bleeding hand with morbid satisfaction. He felt powerful. He felt liberated. He felt competent .

Tiger leaned his back against a damp tree base and watched the unfolding carnage with grim contentment. He fiddled with his backpack beside him, which contained two full fire extinguishers. He’d brought them as a precaution and was relieved that it had been worth the effort. Through the blinding flashes of light and the erratic waves of flame, he could see the shadowy figure of Izuku thrashing around violently. Over the hissing of stone and the whooshing of superheated air currents, he could hear the child’s musings of self-worth, public damnation, and unrelenting anger about some guy named Katsuki. The name sounded familiar, but Tiger couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it before.

For how hot Izuku was making the environment, Tiger wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so cold. This child was struggling. Struggling in more ways than he knew how to help with. How do you approach such deeply rooted fear and resentment? How can you heal the scars of being told to kill yourself? The lasting psychological damage from never feeling safe as a child isn’t something people can escape from. No matter what Tiger says or does, Izuku will forever be watching over his shoulders for the next threat. The next source of pain. 

A part of him wished that he could just tune out these outcries. Pretend he couldn’t hear the boy’s anguish. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but Tiger knew this was the only way. Izuku was never going to open up to him or the rest of the Pussycats. It would go against the kid’s nature, his belief that he needs to accomplish everything on his own because no one will ever be there to save him.

Even though his plan had worked, Tiger still regretted pushing Izuku so hard. If there was some other way to get the kid to let go of his emotions, he’d be happy to help make it happen. Unfortunately, this was likely the only method that resulted in Izuku venting properly. As another plume of green spread across the sky, Tiger felt another wave of relief that he’d taken him to a non-flammable zone to train. 

Tiger wasn’t known to be talkative, but it wasn’t for a lack of attentiveness. He’d been paying close attention to Izuku since the moment he stepped foot into their headquarters. Experience in the hero industry was a bittersweet thing. As a frontline brawler hero, he’d seen his fair share of gory crime scenes. He’d seen everything from death to mutilation. He understood the mental toll traumatic experiences in the heat of battle had. Izuku was no exception. Right from the start, he’d noticed the silent weight Izuku had been carrying. He played it off well, but there was hurt behind those tired green eyes. 

He was grateful that the others had begun to notice it as well, confirming that he wasn’t simply overanalyzing the kid. If they were noticing it, however, then that meant it had gotten to unpredictable levels of mental instability. Knowing that he couldn’t let the boy’s emotions fester for much longer, he had to do a bit of improvisation. Throwing the entire week’s worth of workouts at him all at once was cruel, but it served its purpose. Izuku needed to be riled up to the point his emotions would overflow. The act of drill sergeant worked like a charm.

Behind him, Tiger could hear the familiar metal scrape of the back door to the gym. He expected this. He’d been specifically told not to let Izuku use his quirk, but he figured quirk usage was probably its own version of therapy. Now the others have surely taken notice. Izuku wasn’t exactly discrete. The door swung open wildly as a concerned Mandalay ran out, with Ragdoll and Pixie Bob not far behind. 

Stepping out from the treeline, Tiger extended his arm across the width of the path. Making an impromptu barrier of sorts. Mandalay was halfway to him when her telepathic voice came through, “Yawara! What’s going on? What is happening to Midoriya?”

Tiger yelled to the approaching trio, “Everything is fine! You don’t have to worry!”

He doubted that would convince them, but at least it would make them less frantic. Mandalay ran up beside him, attempting to move his arm barrier, “Things don’t look fine! It looks like our mountain is on fire!”

The others arrived shortly after, asking similar questions with equal intensities. Tiger held them all back from advancing on the path. “Now, now, everyone. Not only is it insanely dangerous to try to get close to Midoriya right now, but you would only be hurting him by interfering.”

Ragdoll’s eyes kept shifting in and out of focus as she nervously approached Tiger, intrigued by his warning. “Yawara… What do you mean we’d only be hurting him? My quirk is going haywire right now. It’s like all I can see is Midoriya’s quirk. It’s overbearing and reminds me of right before the alley exploded, so please tell me that he at least is in control of his actions and isn’t about to lose another limb.”

Tiger squinted, “I… I can’t confirm that he’s in total control right now. However, I do know that he’s working through some traumatic things. This is his way of releasing his emotions. It was either a directed explosion like this or suddenly halfway through lunch the boy goes nuclear.”

Ragdoll yelled over another eruption coming from the mountain, “But we didn’t clear him to use his quirk! He could hurt himself! He could-”

Tiger shouted his reply, pleading that they agreed with him on this, “Look, it’s better for him to get his anger out right now on that cliffside than on anything else! He’s releasing his pain and it would be cruel for us to take that away from him!”

Tiger stopped keeping watch of the three as he looked back to the mountain as a massive green inferno rose into the sky, “That anger that boy is harboring… It’s better out than in.”

Mandalay tried ducking underneath his arm to get to Izuku but was stopped by Tiger’s leg wrapping around her abdomen. She cried out, “Tiger, let me go! We can’t let him lose another limb!”

“You can talk to him later! As it is right now, you wouldn’t even be able to get close with the heat he’s producing. He needs therapy, for sure, but it will have to wait until he’s done acquainting himself with his demons.”

Ragdoll seemed to calm down the most out of the three and softly rested her hand on Mandalay’s shoulder, “Listen, I know we can’t afford to have a repeat of the slime incident, but Yawara has a point here. Even if we wanted to interfere, we wouldn’t be able to get close enough to Midoriya to stop him. None of us have water or fire quirks. And my quirk is also telling me we don’t want to be near him right now anyway. If Midoriya is working through his emotions, then we should just leave him be for now.”

Pixie Bob chimed in, “Even if you’re right, this is still incredibly dangerous. One stray spark and our forest becomes fuel.”

Convinced that Ragdoll and Pixie Bob wouldn’t go rushing into the firefight, he relaxed his arms, returning them to normal size. He then transferred Mandalay to his left arm and regained his leg. He briskly walked over to his backpack and took out one of the fire extinguishers. “I assumed that might happen. So let’s become firefighters while Midoriya calms down. Mandalay, I’m going to release you. Please don’t try to approach Midoriya.”

As his arm unfurled from around her, Mandalay rubbed her arm and angrily demanded answers, “Fine. Whatever. Just fill us in on what’s happening.”

Extra scene that I scrapped, continuing last chapter’s strategy simulation! Happy Holidays Everyone!

…Mandalay laughed as she realized how fun this was going to be.

“Alright, now that I see how nondescript my explanation was, I’ll break things down a bit more.”

Mandalay stood up and walked to the white board where the simulation was projected. Circling a building with a red marker, she explained, “This is the bank. The criminals will start at this location.”

She moved her hand to another building, “And this is the hero agency where the heroes will start. Criminals will have a head start, but the heroes should arrive on the scene by the time the criminals attempt to escape.”

Izuku nodded as he eyed the situation. This was almost an impossible situation for the heroes. Not only were they delayed, they were also incredibly outclassed in speed. Izuku pointed to the street the bank was on. “If I assume the criminals exit here, then I’d have to assume the heroes are at the very least on the same street to stand a chance of catching them. Once the heroes lose line of sight, it's over. Criminals get away.”

Mandalay smirked, “Very observant. Allow me to describe both teams. As I said, the hero team has one water quirk and one electricity quirk. For the sake of this simulation, assume they have powers similar to Backdraft and Electplant. Are you familiar with their quirks?”

Izuku nodded. Backdraft was a local hero to Musutafu. He was one of the first heroes he had analyzed in his notebook collection. He could control water in a 20-meter radius around his body. He can’t produce water, though, so he needs a water source for his quirk to function. Electplant was trickier. Izuku had only ever researched him once, since he had once teamed up with All Might in America. He had an electricity quirk that could be charged up and fired in bolts. Distance his bolts can reach depended on charging time.

Mandalay continued, “Now the criminal team. They have one speed quirk and one flying quirk. For the speed quirk, imagine a power similar to Ingenium. The flying quirk is a winged quirk. Hawks fits this description, minus all the extra utility his quirk has. Got it?”

Izuku let out a small smile, “Yeah, I’m familiar with both of those quirks. Ingenium has engines in his arms, and Hawks can flap his wings to fly.”

There was a lot more to those quirks. On the surface, they were pretty simple. Speed and flying. Ingenium could run a maximum speed of roughly 120 kilometers per hour. Fast, but not the fastest speedster the world had ever seen. Hawks could reach similar speeds in the air, but it would take time to build the momentum necessary for it. In a city setting with frequent turns and skyscrapers, it would be difficult for either of them to reach their top speeds. A safer bet was 60–80 kilometers per hour. 

Izuku analyzed the projection of the city. It was set up in an irrational grid pattern, almost like it had been built to be a maze, not a functioning downtown. There was only one exit. To get out of the city, the criminals had to move south for two blocks, head east for three, and then move another two blocks north, in which they reach the only access point in and out of the city. The heroes would start one block south and one block east of the bank. If the criminals wanted to avoid confrontation, they’d have to elongate their escape route and head either east or west and snake around back to the main road. 

Izuku glanced at Mandalay, who had been studying his reactions, “How much money are the criminals stealing? You mentioned that they were stealing ‘cases’, but there is a huge difference between trying to carry two cases of money out than six.”

Mandalay hummed. “Assume four. Two for each criminal.”

Izuku held his hand out, “Can I have the marker?”

Obliging, Mandalay handed it over before sitting back down in her chair. Izuku drew a star on the bank, “Ok. I’m going to start with the criminals, since they’d have the element of surprise on the heroes, they’d have roughly 15 minutes to get in and out of the bank before the heroes arrive. The best way to use this advantage is to get the four cases as soon as possible, ideally 10 minutes or less. It is crucial for them to get a head start on the heroes. I would have both of the criminals head west from the bank, in the opposite direction of the city exit. I’d then-”

Mandalay interrupted his explanation, “Why head west?”

“If they head east, they’d be approaching the direction the heroes would be coming from, since their agency is southeast to the bank. It would be dumb to cut right through the middle, since the quirk matchup isn’t favorable in a confrontation. The criminals’ key to winning is to simply outpace the heroes, which should actually be pretty easy if the heroes have no other help.”

Nodding, Mandalay waved her hand, signalling Izuku to continue, “Once they head two blocks west, the smart play would be to split up. Send the flyer north and the runner south. Since I assume the heroes are on their tails at this point, they need the heroes to split up as well. The combination of water and electricity could pose very problematic. Assuming the water quirked hero follows the runner, all the runner has to do is run four blocks south before cutting back into the main road and following the typical route to the exit.”

Pausing Izuku’s explanation once again, Mandalay asked, “I understand your tactic of splitting up, but what is to gain from the runner going so far south?”

“Ingenium has a winding up period to his quirk, he gets faster over a distance of 50 to 100 meters. If he reaches that speed, he’d be too fast to catch, even if either one of the heroes tries jumping the route and cutting him off. Not to mention, Ingenium can propel himself in air for additional mobility. This four block span would allow him to reach these speeds. He’d have to slow down at turns, but the momentum would be on his side. Once the water hero loses line of sight on the speedster, it is game over.”

“Now, the flyer is a bit more tricky. Since they are moving north, they are actually running in the wrong direction, which would give the electric hero more time to catch them. However, the power of flight is incredibly advantageous in this setting. If the flying criminal can cause the electric hero to lose sight of him for a couple of seconds, it is game over. I’d have the flyer run on foot two blocks north. Since these buildings are less tall than the ones in central downtown near the bank, there's an opportunity for escape here.”

Izuku glanced over to see if Mandalay was still following. She looked at him puzzled, but didn’t ask any questions, so he decided to continue, “I’m having the criminal run on foot because if he plays his hand too quickly, then the electric hero can zap them out of the sky pretty easily. The range of Elecplant is unknown, but I assume it’s far enough to strike a bird out of the sky. The goal is to lose the hero here at this building on the corner.”

“Once the criminal turns the corner and momentarily loses the electric hero, he should fly directly up and discretely take shelter on this roof for a minute or so. If it's done correctly and prevents the electric hero from knowing his location, he has an easy escape. Once the electric hero is a block away, the criminal should jump off the south end of the roof and as deep as possible without hitting the ground. Using that momentum, they should fly as fast as they can towards the exit route, remaining just a couple of meters above ground. The buildings should act as a natural cover. The speed in which the criminal can fly greatly determines their ability to reach the exit. The heroes upon losing sight of either criminal would probably go to protect the exit. If both criminals are fast enough, they get away. If not, then it would come down to a skirmish. The smart move is for the runner to distract both heroes while the flyer escapes safely with the money. Once the money is safe, the flyer can come back and evacuate the other criminal, if they hadn’t already been caught.” 

“This is an easy scenario for the criminals because there’s only two heroes. If this was real life, the criminals would stand almost no chance of escaping this maze of a city without confrontation because they’d be vastly outnumbered and ratted out by civilians. The heroes likely win any upfront fight.”

Mandalay began clapping, “Wow Midoriya, Ragdoll mentioned you had some experience with battle strategy, but you still managed to impress me. While you used quite a lot of assumptions, your creativity was excellent. If this simulation were to play out like you predicted, the criminals would have a fair chance of escaping with that plan. The splitting up was an especially nice touch. Electrified water would’ve made an exceptional combo attack that neither of the criminals could’ve countered. Well done. Now how about the heroes? They are at a clear disadvantage here. What's your plan for them?”

“Well, in order for them to stand any chance, they’d have to make a couple jumps in logic…”

Chapter Text

Izuku’s head hung limply on his shoulders, too heavy to lift. Sweat clung to his forehead, warm and unmoving. In the hazy edges of his vision, he tracked the slow descents of the sweat beads. Upon impact with the molten slag beneath him, each droplet sizzled into wisps of vapor. He inhaled deeply, desperately flooding his nostrils with fresh forest air. His eyes glazed over, only half focused on his twitching hand sprawled against the scorched earth. Fingers opening, closing, uselessly grasping at the steam rising from the rock. He flexed them again. Nothing.

Izuku let out a dry, empty laugh. He couldn’t feel it. His mind assured him it was still attached, but anything else was lost to him.  Not just his hand, he couldn’t feel much of anything . Another laugh followed. His body shook with it, shoulders rising and falling as if the motion would restore his senses. His head dipped lower, chin pressing into his chest. A lazy, delirious smile graced his lips as he closed his eyes and felt nothing . 

It was nice.

A breeze gently blew against his cheek. He imagined it was cool against the heat of his skin. He exhaled slowly, utterly satisfied. For the first time since the sludge villain incident, his head was clear. There was no pressure, no unreleased tension knotted in his shoulders. He had finally let go. And now… now all he could do was breathe. His head tilted back, letting the stillness of the moment wash over him. He let himself exist in it for as long as it would have him.

It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. The numbness was fraying at the edges. The faint tingling of his muscles were already pulling at the edges of his consciousness, attempting to once again ground his mind to his body. He drew another deep breath before opening his eyes. 

All around him, the air shimmered and danced in waves of heat. Embers of viridian green floated in the air, whirling in wide arcs as the mountain breeze gently ushered smoke into the sky. Flames danced on melting pieces of the cliffside, casting hypnotic shadows across the landscape. The ghostly green light haunted the charred training ground. A sharp pang of remorse filled Izuku’s heart before it too got whisked away. There was no room for doubt. No room for fear or panic. No room for uncertainty.

The cliffside, once solid stone, was now a grotesque sculpture of slag — warped, cracked, and porous. Pools of magma bubbled in crevices between jagged rocks. Izuku’s gaze dropped to his hand. It was steady now, but remained a foreign object. If he didn’t instinctively recognize it as his hand, he wouldn’t have known it as his own. It was coated charcoal black from his quirk, but something was inherently wrong . Deeply wrong . 

That realization jolted him fully awake. The usually smooth curves of the liquid substance were now hard, jagged edges. Each of his fingers now claws of black, with sharp, fragmented layers, each one rough and serrated. Horror gripped him as he shot to his feet. It was his entire arm. The substance crawled its way up his arm, snaking its way to his chest. His breath accelerated as his attention whipped to his right arm, finding it in an even worse state. The charcoal coating had completely overtaken what remained of his limb, creeping across his pectoral muscle like a second skin. It pulsed with residual heat, shifting with each breath he took. A shiver went down his spine.

Izuku’s attention snapped back to his hand. He curled his fingers into a fist, then slowly extended them into a peace sign. A shaky breath slipped out. Good . At least he still had movement. He couldn’t afford another loss. Tentatively, he reached for his chest, clawed fingers scraping against his skin as he tried to pry the material off. A sharp sting. Blood welled up where his jagged nails had cut too deep. He grimaced and tried again, but the hardened substance wouldn’t budge. It had fused to him. Perfectly. Seamlessly. His breath hitched. He dug the tip of his pointer finger into the edge where skin met quirk, trying to peel it back— something, anything —but there was no separation. No weak point to pull from. The realization hit like a brick to the chest.

Panic seized him.

What was he supposed to do? He couldn't tear this off. Couldn't feel where it ended and he began. His breath quickened. His pulse pounded in his ears.

How was he—

Izuku’s spiraling thoughts screeched to an abrupt halt. His clothes. Or rather, the absence of them. Only charred strings of his pants clung to his legs, and his shoes were nothing more than puddles of rubber and cloth. Heat rushed to his cheeks as he scrambled to cover himself, completely mortified. As if the universe hadn’t had enough of his torment, he could hear faint steps beginning to approach from behind. He whipped his head around to see a grimacing Tiger, shielding his face from the lingering heat. In his hand was the bag he’d had earlier. 

‘ Oh no. ’

The sight of the pro hero sent a new kind of dread through his body, chilling his veins. The wreckage, the pools of molten rock, the suffocating heat. He had done all of it. He had just destroyed their training ground. He could have set the entire forest on fire. He could have set their house on fire. He could have killed them. 

His chest tightened. His pulse drowned out the sounds of carnage. All he could do was watch as the hulking man approached carefully, each step deliberate against the uneven landscape. The pro’s eyes scanned the destruction rapidly as he came to a stop a few meters away. His sharp gaze flicked from side to side before settling on Izuku.

Izuku’s heart jumped into his throat. The man’s face was completely unreadable, his eyes cold and calculating, silently analyzing everything about Izuku. The stiff staredown stretched on before Tiger simply reached into his bag and pulled out a rolled up wad of clothing. He extended his arms to Izuku. “Get dressed.”

Izuku stared at the clothing. That was it? No freak out? No ‘ What the fuck are you doing?’ No ‘ I’m sending you back to the police. Good luck getting into UA now ’?

Izuku looked back at Tiger, but the man’s expression remained unchanged. Swallowing hard, he took the clothes — his UA hoodie and his second favorite pair of sweatpants. The fabric sizzled as it made contact with his skin. The sight of his own clothing made Izuku pause. 

His tantrum had caused him to lose track of time, but it certainly wasn’t long enough for Tiger to go and retrieve clothing from his room. And there was no way Tiger would leave him alone to burn down their estate. Questions piled up as Izuku put on the clothes as quickly as he could.

All the while, Tiger stood there quietly watching. He was acutely aware of Tiger’s domineering presence overseeing his every movement. After shimming on the jacket, Izuku forced himself to stand at attention, ready to hear whatever punishment was coming. 

It never came.

Tiger just continued staring at him. A cold sensation washed over Izuku’s skin as puzzle pieces of the situation fell into place. After an agonizingly long moment, “You knew this was going to happen.”

It wasn’t a question. He had to have. Tiger’s head lifted, mildly surveying the wreckage before flatly responding, “I wanted this to happen.”

Izuku didn’t like that answer. “You-you heard everything then?”

Tiger slung the bag across his back, but his steady gaze never wavering, “Yes.”

Izuku licked his dry lips, unsure of how to respond, “Why? Why set all of this up? Why risk the entire forest? Why risk your own headquarters?”

The older man didn’t say anything. Tiger tilted his head as he crossed his arms, wordlessly pushing Izuku to fill in the missing pieces. ‘ Tiger wanted me to react. He wanted me to get angry. He- he played me. And for what? For me to tank his property value? To get an insurance claim to cover a new headquarters? ’

Izuku looked back down to his jagged charcoal black hand. Slowly, he rubbed his index finger and his thumb together, generating a harsh scratching sound, drowning out the crackling of the lingering flames, “So, what now?”

Tiger turned on his heel and started walking back to the buildings in the distance, “Now? We rebuild.”

‘ Rebuild ’? What the hell did that even mean? The cliffside was not fixable. You can’t just unmelt stone. You would have to- 

That’s not what he meant.

Izuku watched idly as Tiger got progressively smaller with distance. He wasn’t being punished or berated for his actions. 

He exhaled shakily as a lump of emotions rose in his throat. The air surrounding him stopped quivering from heat as the last of the fires fizzled into nothingness. He shut his eyes tightly as tears threatened to fall. A soft whisper was all he could muster.

“Okay.”

The soft hum of cartoons could be heard in the neighboring room. It had to be a rerun, Izuku garnered. Something he had watched as a child. ‘ Anything to keep Kota busy ,’ he thought softly. 

‘ Anything to keep ME busy .’ He stared at the finish on the wood table in front of him, inspecting every groove and discoloration. If he lifted his head, he knew he’d come face to face with the concerned faces of the Wild Wild Pussy Cats — the last thing he wanted to see right now. His chest tightened as the silence drew on. He could hear one of the members take a sip of their tea before gently placing it on the table. 

Mandalay’s soft voice broke his concentration, “So are you just going to inspect our table for the next few hours?” 

Izuku flinched. 

“You haven’t touched your dinner at all, either. You need to eat Midoriya.” 

Against every instinct in his body, Izuku slowly looked up, locking eyes with every member. Mandalay had a small, concerned smile, but her creased brow gave away her worry and anxiety. Ragdoll leaned forward on the table, propping her head up with her hands. Her eyes were squinted, as if trying to see past Izuku’s body and directly into his soul. Pixie Bob was making no effort to hide the flurry of emotions she was feeling. Her eyes were puffy, and her entire face was contorted into a disturbed expression. A pang of guilt rippled across Izuku’s entire being. Finally, he glanced at Tiger, who was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. The only hint of emotion was the slight frown that he probably wore involuntarily. 

His quick scan of the room was enough to lose any appetite he might’ve had. His gaze fell back down to the food set before him. A full plate of sushi, rice, and sashimi. On any other day, Izuku would have killed for a meal like this. The pressure in his chest grew stronger. Abruptly, he tore his gaze up towards Mandalay, “I’m sorry.”

She smiled warmly. The action dug under Izuku’s skin. He just defaced their picturesque backyard cliffside — left it a scorched, unrecognizable mess — and not one of them had so much as glared at him. They should be angry! They should at least look like they care about what he did. Sure, they wanted this to happen, but it doesn’t change the fact that he had completely lost it. And yet, here they were, staring at him like he was even more of a sob story than when he’d first arrived. Their calmness somehow was making everything worse.

Mandalay’s voice was soft but firm, “Midoriya, it’s okay. It’s just a mountain. I’m more worried about you.” She glanced down at his untouched plate, “You just output an incredible amount of energy. An amount I don’t even know how you could physically store in your body. I’m sure at least some of that energy comes from eating, so while melting the cliff might not kill you, the energy deficiency you’re under might. So eat. We can talk while you eat.”

Izuku nodded stiffly and reached for the chopsticks, but his fingers — still coated in the hardened substance — struggled to grasp them. She was right. While he didn’t know exactly how his extra organ converted energy to fuel for his fire, there were only so many places it could come from. Giving up, he stabbed a piece of sashimi with his finger like a skewer. Ragdoll watched carefully before softly joking, “On a scale of one to ten, Midoriya, how much do you want to punch a hole in a wall?”

“Shiretoko.” Mandalay warned, voice low. Ragdoll held her hands up in mock innocence. 

Izuku couldn’t help but smirk at the attempt to lighten the mood, “It’s still very much on the table.”

Pixie Bob chortled, “Still? You would think you blew off enough steam on our mountainside.”

The comment was innocent enough, but Izuku could sense the edge behind it. His smile dissipated, and the room fell back to its somber atmosphere. The well of emotions he’d fought down earlier threatened to surface. “... I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

The room didn’t respond. They all quietly averted their gazes or took sips of their drinks. No one dared to tackle the situation head on. The tension was unwavering. Izuku stared back at his hand, still unsettled by the substance he couldn’t get off. As he considered what he could even say to them, Tiger’s gruff voice broke through his mind, “Forget the training ground, Midoriya. You need to talk about it .” 

Ice shot through Izuku’s veins. His stomach twisted. Tiger told them. Tiger told them everything. His voice was sharp, accusatory before he could stop himself, “You told them?” 

Heat flooded his face as he recalled every bit of information he had shouted about during his frenzy. Every insecurity, every ugly aspect of his life. If they knew-

Tiger met his gaze firmly as he leaned forward, “No.” 

Izuku blinked. Out of his peripherals, he could see the others share confused glances. Ragdoll hesitated before breaking the tension, “Midoriya, we weren’t there, but we know that something had to have triggered your… outburst. We’re all worried about you. Please, tell us what’s wrong.” 

Izuku’s heart pounded harder. His hand tightly curled into a fist. He threw himself back into the chair with a huff, “I was just angry.”

Pixie Bob shifted uncomfortably in her chair, “Midoriya, people who are angry don’t melt solid rock into pools of magma.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “ People don’t have a quirk that lets them melt things at 1500 Celsius,” Izuku shot back snarkily. 

Mandalay chastised him, her voice harsher than before, “Midoriya, stop it. We’re all here for you and whether you like it or not, you’re stuck with us for another nine months.” She pursed her lips, her expression tightening, “Anger like that doesn’t come out of nowhere. You’ve been through a traumatic event and lost more than any child should at your age, but we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s bothering-”

“Stop.” 

His voice cut through hers, bitter.

“Stop what Midoriya? I’m trying to-”

“Stop looking at me like I’m helpless. I’m not.” His pulse thumped louder in his ears as his frustration bubbled to the surface. His voice remained low, but trembled with growing irritation, “You saw what I did to your cliffside, not to mention the alleyway. Stop-”

“Stop pretending like I can’t handle myself.”

The room fell silent. Heat churned beneath his skin, embers stirring in his chest. 

Mandalay’s face was filled with a mixture of confusion and indignation, “Who said anything about you not being able-”

“You! All of you! You don’t have to say it — your eyes give it away. Since the moment I got here.”

He crossed his arms, his voice turning flat, “You think I don’t notice? The sideways glances, the pity? I see all of it. I’m not dumb. You guys look at me like I’m incapable.”

Tiger cut him off. His voice was harder, sharper than it used to be, no longer neutral, “What have you done to prove us wrong?”

Izuku let out a huff. Tiger’s eyes locked with his, his expression revealing his irritation.

“How are we supposed to trust you when you just lost your cool and defaced our backyard? How about when you blew up an alleyway full of civilians and lost your hand in the process? What about that shows me you handle yourself?” 

Izuku’s eyes snapped to him, his whole body reacting. The familiar pressure of smoke established itself in his lungs. 

Tiger’s gaze didn’t waver, “Tell me, Midoriya. After all I’ve seen and heard today, how am I supposed to trust you to not break at a moment’s notice?”

Izuku clenched his jaw. His voice low and controlled, but seething, “Bullshit.” 

He exhaled through his nose, with more tufts of smoke billowing out before sending a sharp response back. “You wanted me to break.  You got what you asked for.”

Mandalay stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor with a high-pitched screech.

“Calm down. Both of you.” Her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. “Midoriya, no one thinks you're weak. And absolutely no use of your quirk inside. Take a breath so we can talk like adults.”

Izuku scoffed, his clawed nails pressing into his palm.

Mandalay's eyes flicked toward Tiger, her tone sharpening.

“And you—don’t pick a fight with our guest. And what does he mean, you wanted him to break?” She narrowed her eyes. “There are better ways to do this, and you know that.”

Tiger remained unfazed, refusing to remove his gaze from Izuku. “Then prove it to me, kid.” His voice was firm, challenging him. “Prove you don’t deserve our pity. Because right now, all I see is a kid throwing a fit because the world hasn’t gone his way.”

“Tiger.” Mandalay’s voice was sharp.

Izuku stood so fast his chair rocked back on its legs. His hand clenched into a fist at his side, heat coiling in his chest. His voice was tight, strained with something deeper than just anger.

“You don’t get it. You never would.”

His breath came fast, uneven.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be less than nothing. To be born into a world where everyone else is powerful but you.”

Mandalay opened her mouth, but Ragdoll’s voice cut through first, “Then tell us, Midoriya.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. His legs felt weak. Slowly, he sank back into his chair, his body tense and trembling.

“I was a joke.” His voice was flat, empty. “A waste of space.”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight, his fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

“I spent my whole life being told that no matter what I did, I would never amount to anything. That it wasn’t even worth me trying.”

His teeth clenched. His chest was too tight, like he couldn't breathe.

“I was told I should just try my luck in my next life.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped him, but it was barely a sound—just a ghost of breath, hollow and cold.

“And then I finally got something. I finally got a quirk. A fucking miracle—I finally had a chance to be worth a damn. I was finally something other than weak, other than the scum of the earth.”

His vision blurred. His breath shallow, uneven. The grip on his hoodie tightened.

“And then what happens?” His voice rose, cracking under the weight of it all. His whole body shook. “I lose my fucking arm trying to save somebody who told me to kill myself more times than I can count.”

The air in the room was thick, suffocating. No one moved.

Izuku let out a choked, bitter laugh, but it wasn’t funny.

“And I didn’t even get as much as a ‘thank you.’”

He released his jacket and slammed his hand down onto the cool wood.

“I see the way people look at me now.” His voice dropped to something fragile, splintering at the edges. “It’s the same way they did before I got my quirk.”

His throat closed up. The words wouldn't come out, but he forced them anyway.

“Like I’m broken. Like I’m—”

His voice gave out. He sucked in a sharp breath, blinking fast, trying to hold himself together.

“Like I’m nothing again.”

The words hung there, like lead in the air.

He dragged in another unsteady breath, his chest heaving.

“I finally started to feel like I could stand on my own. Like I was strong enough to stand alongside everyone else.” His hand trembled. “And now I see it again.”

His face twisted, the bitterness rising again, curling in his stomach like poison.

“The pity. The doubt. The way people hold back because they think I can’t handle myself.”

His voice dropped, “And maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m every bit as weak as people think, but I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try to prove them wrong.”

Silence.

Pixie Bob let out a shaky breath, her eyes wide and glassy, tears already slipping down her cheeks.

“Midoriya… I—we—” She sniffled, her hands trembling as she wiped at her face. “We didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

He stared at the table, unable to meet their eyes. The weight of their stares was too much—too heavy.

“I have always been behind. Always.” His voice wasn’t angry anymore. Just tired.

“And I was finally making progress. Finally coming into my own. And then, in the blink of an eye, my arm is gone, and I’m right back where I started.”

He swallowed thickly.

“Yet, this time, I have a quirk that makes me even more unstable than when I was getting told to kill myself on the daily.”

The shift in the room was immediate.

Ragdoll sucked in a sharp breath, her voice suddenly careful, quieter than before.

“Midoriya… what do you mean?”

His hand curled into a fist again. He didn’t want to say it. But they were already here.

“My quirk.”

His breath stuttered.

“I never used to get angry like this.” His voice was thick, cracking at the edges. “My emotions didn’t use to be so… reactive.”

The air felt too hot, too heavy. 

“Ever since my quirk awakened, it’s like… there’s something brewing in me all the time.”

He exhaled shakily, his throat dry.

“It’s constant. It waits for the right moment, and then it takes control. It’s like- like my body wants to be angry. Like it wants to fight.”

His breath hitched. His fingers dug into his arms.

“It’s wired into me now.”

He couldn’t look at them. He didn’t want to see their reactions.

“I can’t—” His voice broke. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t escape it.”

The room fell into a hush, only the distant droning of cartoons contrasting the quiet suffocation of the atmosphere.

Pixie Bob’s sniffles broke the lull. Tears were no longer streaming down her face, but her red eyes remained. 

Mandalay held a steady expression, her lips pressed into a thin line, but her body faintly shook. Her hands gripped her sides tightly as she processed the information. 

Ragdoll’s face was pale and expressionless. Her eyes refused to meet his face, instead flickering from Izuku’s clawed, blackened hand and the cup she rigidly held in front of her. 

Tiger had a small, contempt smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Izuku wanted to punch him, ‘ Asshole. ’

His own breath was shallow and unsteady. Adrenaline still coursed through him, urging him for more action. 

Pixie Bob’s chair scraped against the floor as she half-stood, hands gripping the edge of the table. Her breath hitched, and she forced a watery laugh, shaking her head, “Geez Midoriya… We didn’t…” She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the wetness from her eyes, “I mean — we knew. About the quirklessness. We were there for when you lost your arm. But we didn’t know. Not like this…” 

Her fingers curled tighter, “I wish… I wish things were different. The world is just so unfair sometimes...”

Mandalay’s gentle voice was nothing more than a whisper, “I- I’m sorry this has happened to you. You don’t deserve it. Any of it, Midoriya.”

Her hands unclenched, pressing flat against the table, “None of this is your fault.”

Ragdoll tapped a finger against her cup. She wasn’t looking at him, not directly — her gaze flickered over his hands, his posture, like she was piecing together a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve. Her voice was quiet, “All that anger… It’s not just your quirk, Midoriya. It’s exhaustion. Someone your age shouldn’t have to shoulder so much.”

Izuku sank deeper into his chair, a sharp pressure building in his jaw. Their voices kept bouncing around in his head, overlapping, pressing down on him like a weight he hadn’t expected to feel. They agreed with him. They saw it. The validation should have felt like relief, but instead, it made his stomach twist. Before, it had all been in his head — something he could dismiss, argue against. But now it was real. Acknowledged. And somehow, that made it worse.

A throat cleared.

Tiger’s loud voice cut through the air, drawing all attention to him. “I’m proud of you, Midoriya.”

Izuku’s sat up straighter, brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. 

“I know I already overheard a lot of this, but I’m happy to see you have the courage to talk to us about it. ‘Takes guts.” 

He paused, leaning forward and resting his forearms on the table, “Now, we can all just keep sitting here wallowing in how shitty your upbringing has been. You’ve got enough ammunition to last us ‘til morning.”

He let the words linger before fixing his gaze on Izuku, “… But I know that isn’t what you want. You said it yourself — you hate being looked down on. So I won’t. Instead, I’ll ask you this: What do you want us to do? About any of the fucked up shit you just aired out or in general? We’re here to help, so tell us, how do we do that?”

Izuku blinked, thrown off. This was not what he was expecting. His mouth opened, then closed. He swallowed, words evading his tongue, “I-”

He coughed, trying to find some footing. “I need you guys to stop looking at me like I’m helpless.”

His voice was weaker than he wanted it to be. He cleared his throat, “I may be down an arm, but I’m still just as capable as anyone else. And I don’t want you guys to hold back on me.” 

There it was. Izuku exhaled through his nose. His fingers twitched as he pressed his palm into his thigh, grounding himself. 

Tiger nodded, “Alright. So we won’t.”

“You’re one of us now and we’ll treat you as such — as an equal.”

“But,” Tiger’s expression hardened, his voice deepening, “That also means you can’t pity yourself. If you want us to see you as independent, then you need to hold yourself to higher standards and show us why you deserve to be an equal.” 

Tiger looked to his teammates, “I think we can all agree that you’re powerful. We all know you’re smart. But if you don’t want to be coddled, don’t give us a reason to. You want respect? Start acting like someone who deserves it.”

Izuku looked down at his right arm, his nub burning with sensations, as if his hand were still there. He looked back to meet Tiger’s stare, “I can handle more.” His voice was steady, certain, “I want to control my quirk, not the other way around. It’s exhausting trying to regulate my anger, and I need help.”

His fist tightened, “I just… I want to feel like I’m actually here to grow. The UA exam is right at the end of my stay here. That’s my real goal.”

Mandalay unfurled her arms from around herself and let out a breath, “Ok. No more tiptoeing around you. No more holding back.”

Her expression sharpened, “But that doesn’t allow us to ignore what you’ve just told us, Midoriya.”

Midoriya shrugged, suddenly feeling a lot less confident than he had a second ago, “Figures.” 

Mandalay ignored him, “We don’t have to get into everything here, but if you want us to respect and trust you, you have to be open with us. You can’t keep all of this to yourself. You’ll need to talk with us about these things, whether that’s now or in the future.”

Ragdoll nodded, her voice gentle, “Midoriya, we all want to help you grow, but let’s face it, you’re at a severe disadvantage both mentally and physically. I will stop pulling punches if that is what you would like, but you should be warned that things will be much harder for you from here on out.”

Izuku simply nodded. Ragdoll continued, “And as for your quirk. That’s something that none of us were aware of until this moment.”

Her gaze moved to his hand, still covered by his quirk, “That’s a serious psychological aspect of yourself that you will have to grapple with, likely for the rest of your life. None of us are experts, but we’ll mix in some emotional control exercises into your recovery process.”

Pixie Bob’s smile was small, but warm, “Right. I understand now why you don’t want us treating you like a victim. Again, I’m really sorry that we ever made you feel inadequate. That’s not what any of us wanted. We were just concerned.”

She clapped her hands as her smile grew, “So from now on, you’re gonna be treated like one of us. And that extends to your quirk training as well. Today showed us that you clearly have not been held back by your injury in the slightest when it comes to power. I’ll begin training you harder than you’ve ever been trained in order to get you up to speed as soon as possible. No more pulling punches.”

Midoriya wiped his eyes, removing a rogue tear, “Thanks… I’m sorry about the training grounds.”

His voice quieted, “All these things just kept eating at me and my lack of progress with my arm all just kinda… became too much.” 

He shot a pointed glare at Tiger, “And when someone pushed me a bit too hard, I just couldn’t control myself anymore. I’ve lost myself in the heat of the moment a couple of times when I’d get into fights at school, but never anything as extreme as that.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, “That’s not… that’s not who I am. Not who I want to be. I want to work hard over the rest of my stay to be the best me possible. I want to be able to leave here and demand the respect that I deserve. I don’t- I don’t want to leave here and have people look down on me again.” 

Mandalay leaned across the table and put a gentle hand over his. He couldn’t feel it because of his quirk’s coating, but the action still warmed his chest, “Midoriya, thank you for being honest with us. From here on out, we’ll be honest with you if you’re honest with us. We won’t look at you with pity and we won’t hold back.”

She smiled warmly at him, “By the time you leave us, no one will have a reason to doubt you.”

Izuku slowly nodded his head, acknowledging the warmth filling him. Different from before — steady, tangible. He exhaled, his body finally beginning to unwind from the tension coiled deep inside of him. The room was quiet, but this time, it didn’t feel heavy. Just still. He flexed his fingers experimentally, watching as the substance clung stubbornly to his skin. 

“...I still can’t get this shit off of me.”

He exhaled, shaking his head before glancing at Tiger, deadpan.

“Also, Tiger’s an asshole.”

Chapter Text

Izuku let out an exaggerated sigh as he twirled his half submerged legs in circles. Steam rose in hazy swirls, gently grazing his face and wrapping around him.  Moments like these made him wish he didn’t have a fire quirk. 

And he’s had quite a few of those moments recently. 

Involuntarily, a puff of smoke escaped his mouth alongside another disgruntled exhale. The bath house should’ve been the perfect place for him to try to recollect himself after the day he’s had. But all he felt still was regret and guilt. He had been so incredibly shortsighted and impulsive. His heart dropped every time he let himself think about it for more than two seconds. And all he could do right now was think. 

Izuku shook his head slightly and clenched his fist. The entire forest could’ve gone up in flames thanks to him. He could have caused so much irreparable damage. His mind flashed the scene of him setting the alleyway alight in a ghoulish green flame. He hadn’t even thought about what he was actually hitting at the time. All he cared about was putting distance between himself and the sludge monster, but in his oversight he had caused thousands of dollars in damages to the buildings and merchandise in the market. Not to mention how just seconds later he made his arm into a bomb and blew anything that was still standing to bits. 

Izuku let his head fall. He stared into the water below him. The wisps veiled it thinly, but he could still see his reflection. Staring at himself, he rubbed the top of his head. The small prickles of his green hair gently gave way to his blackened claw of a hand. Not only was he stupid and reckless, but he also looked absolutely ridiculous. 

His legs stilled in the water as he focused on his reflection. He’s certainly had better looks. The disturbingly dark substance that stuck itself to his arms and chest was still very much attached. He’d tried repeatedly to get it off, using basic and cavalier methods, but nothing had worked. At least no one besides the WWPC would see him like this. A small silver lining. 

After a moment of staring at his reflection, his thoughts wandered to Katsuki Bakugo. If he had seen Izuku go nuclear, he would have never heard the end of it. It’d be held over his head for as long as Katsuki breathed. And as much as he hated it, Katsuki did understand what it meant to be a hero. He was an incorrigible asshole, but that didn’t take away from the fact that when rubber met road, Katsuki knew how to handle himself. He’d absolutely be able to pick out the flaws in Izuku’s methodology, quirk usage, and disregard for the safety of his surroundings. Katsuki would use it as verification to what he had always believed - Izuku was no match for him.

Typically, that line of thought ended with anger and resentment, but after his horrific showing today, Izuku could do nothing but agree. As of that moment, he was nowhere near where he needed to be if he wanted to be a hero.

He hadn’t been thinking about the repercussions of his actions during the alleyway incident, and he hadn’t today either. Absolutely no growth. Pitiful, honestly. And then the WWPC didn’t hold him accountable for his actions. They bailed him out the first time and are doing so again. Sure that dinner talk was uncomfortable, but he never got any real punishments out of it. Something just feels wrong about doing something so dangerous and getting off Scott free. They should’ve been at least a little upset with him — show that his actions matter somehow. 

Did he really actually want to be punished? No. Who would? But he didn’t want to just walk away from this thinking that his actions don’t have consequences. And if the pro heroes won’t instill those ideals of responsibility and right versus wrong, then how would anything ever change? Katsuki was an example of that fear personified. He had never been told off by the authority figures in school growing up, regardless of what extracurricular uses he found for his quirk. How would he have learned to not be an asshole? No one ever told him not to be. And Katsuki would only ever take criticism from those above him in power, a list of which shrunk exponentially as they aged. Was WWPC’s leniency right now so different? Was he getting off easy just because he had a powerful quirk? 

That kind of leadership only gives credence to a cycle of negligence that births inflated egos with no attachments to the real world. Izuku shuddered at the thought of becoming a product of that. With the way his emotional stability was precariously volatile, he was already hurdling his way to being the next Katsuki. If he’s not held accountable, he will surely end up like him sooner rather than later. The thought sent another chill down his spine, followed by a queasy feeling settling in his stomach. 

He forced his thoughts elsewhere, but there were only so many avenues open to his turmoiled brain. Izuku felt his cheeks warm up as his brain picked out all the different ways he had put others in danger the past few days, whether it be via bomb or forest fire. Mistake after mistake. Reckless action after reckless action.

He was so stupid.

Izuku wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a loud thump exploded behind him, causing his soul to momentarily leave his body. Whipping around, he was already ready to blast a hole in whatever had snuck up on him. 

Letting out a breath, Izuku’s brain finally caught up to what his eyes were telling him. There, only a meter or so in front of him, was an absolutely massive cardboard box absolutely filled to the brim with different spray bottles, rags, brushes, and various containers of mystery liquids. Behind the box was Pixie Bob, her face slightly red from exertion. Looking past her, he saw Ragdoll following suit, also holding a box full of more cleaning materials. They were both in their casual house wear, which indicated they weren’t planning on relaxing in the water.

Immediately, Izuku didn’t like where this was headed. His eyes darted between the women and the boxes, already putting together what the boxes were for. Mandalay had told him that they were strategizing how to get his substance off of him, but didn’t mention any semblance of a plan. Then Ragdoll had suspiciously suggested taking a calming night in the bathhouse. Too coincidental. This was a setup. 

Izuku tried to keep his voice level, “What do you got there?”

Pixie Bob replied cheerfully — too cheerfully. “We got some soaps, lotions, acids, various cleaners, and everything we think may be useful.” She pouted, “Sorry kitten, but you have to get declawed.”

He glanced down at his hand. It hadn’t changed at all since the incident. Its reflective black surface reflected the ambient light, causing it to appear like it was pulsating. The substance had extended down to his fingertips, where they tapered off rapidly, producing razor like blades at the end of each finger. He had truly earned his stripes and became a cat with this trick. Izuku glanced back up to Pixie Bob, “So, do you have a plan, or are you just gonna try everything?” 

Another thought ran through his brain, “And did you say acids?”

Ragdoll answered for Pixie Bob, who was head first in a box, organizing the torture devices, “Yes, acids. We don’t what your quirk exactly is. It’s not really detailed very well in your official medical charts. So we have to do our due diligence. You know, for science.” She paused as she set out a bottle and placed it next to him, “And I have my theories, but as far as plans go, we’re just gonna try everything and see what works.”

Izuku grit his teeth, “Great.”

Pixie Bob smiled brightly, “Glad you’re excited. Now take a seat on that stool next to you. This’ll be fun.”

Izuku hummed in discontentment, but did as he was told. He made sure the towel wrapped around his waste was fashioned tightly and then stood. The stool Pixie Bob had mentioned was directly over a drain. Had to be one hell of a heavy duty drain if they had enough confidence to dump a bunch of chemicals and acids down it. He took a look over into one of the boxes. Literally every brand of detergent or dish soap he had ever seen at the grocery store was in it. Then there were the suspiciously labeled glass jars of acids. Izuku’s brain must’ve been playing tricks on him because he swore he saw a bottle of sulfuric acid. There was absolutely no way they’d be willing to actually use that right?

He nervously looked at Ragdoll, “There’s no way we’re using sulfuric acid right? You know how dangerous that is right?”

She didn’t look his way, simply waving her hand, “Oh calm down, we’d do it so there’d be no way for it to make contact directly with your skin. Besides, we’d dilute it and test it with a very small amount first. Your medical chart did at least say your substance may be similar to that of Barium Ferrate. If that’s the case then it may break down to stronger acids. My bet is on hydrochloric acid.”

That last bit sent alarm bells ringing through his head. He whipped around back to the box, “Hydrochloric Acid?!” There was no way. He’d seen images of hydrochloric acid burns online. He did not want to become a victim. “No way. I know what happens with acid burns. I’ll pass. In fact, I’m starting to like this arm covering. It’d be very useful in ba-”

A hand pushed him along before shoving him down on the stool. Pixie Bob’s voice chimed in from behind him, “Oh don’t be such a wuss. If you can survive the intense heat of your flames, I’m sure there’s no way some acid would burn you.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. He searched immediately for Ragdoll. Their eyes met, but she simply shrugged. He was on his own. “No no no. Pixie Bob, that is NOT how acid burns work. Please, please tell me you know that.”

“Of course that’s how it works. That’s why they call it a burn. For a guy with a fire quirk, I thought you’d know that.”

He could feel the panic start to rise through his chest, “First off, acid is not fire. Secondly, acids don’t burn thermally. The chemicals react with your skin directly and can corrode your flesh, without any heat. Very, very different. I’ve never tested acids on myself before because I’m not a lunatic. I have no reason to believe it wouldn’t work the same exact same way with my skin. My skin is still very much skin.”

Pixie Bob stood still for a second as she gathered her hair and put it in a pony tail, “Well, I guess you learn something new every day.”

Izuku let out a breath of relief.

She continued, “We’ll try those last then.”

Izuku sucked that breath back in. He shifted uncomfortably as Ragdoll squatted down next to him. She wore bright blue rubber gloves that extended all the way to her elbows. He looked to Ragdoll, “Please tell me that you’re the voice of reason here. Using acids like that is ridiculous.”

Ragdoll tilted her head, but her facial features remained neutral, “Of course I am. I know the difference between the acids so I’ll be the one actually using them if it comes to that. You don’t have to worry so much. I know my way around chemicals. You’ll be fine.”

He let the breath back out. He could at least live with that. Still, his heart was racing from his mini heart attack. The idea of using acids like that is completely ridiculous, but he felt much better about Ragdoll using them than Pixie Bob. Not to discredit Pixie Bob, she was a wonderful hero, but stuff like chemistry would fly over her head. It simply wasn’t her wheelhouse. 

Izuku tried to get his mind off of it. Hopefully they would try a name brand detergent and get it off in the first five minutes. He decided to ask something that’s been on his mind since they arrived, “So where are Mandalay and Tiger?”

Pixie Bob shrugged to his left, “We got a mission call. They claimed they’d be able to handle it by themselves. Just a standard mountain rescue. Sounded like a hiker got himself stuck in a rock trying to go cave diving.”

That made him chuckle a little, “It’s survival of the fittest at that point.”

Ragdoll smiled as she reached for a sponge and poured some normal dish soap on it, “You’ve got a point. More disappearances happen around underground entrances than almost anywhere else in the nation. It’s a lot more dangerous than most people think. But if everyone learned that by now, I’d be out of a job.” She paused for half a second, “Arm.”

He held out his left arm to her and she began scrubbing his forearm, “Sorry if this water is a bit hot.”

That made Izuku let out a small laugh. Ragdoll stopped scrubbing and looked at him quizzically, “What?”

“You know I can’t feel heat right? Whole fire quirk thing and all.”

She blinked, then waived her hand dismissingly, “Oh, right. Force of habit I guess. At least I don’t have to worry about hot water, which will be useful in getting this off of you.”

Pixie Bob laid on her knees to the other side of Izuku, her own set of supplies strewn across the ground next to her, “What is that like? Not being able to feel heat? Like when you’re out relaxing in the sun do you not feel anything? Isn’t that, like, super depressing?”

Izuku shrugged, “I guess. I still remember pretty well how it felt before my quirk manifested. I didn’t get my quirk that long ago.” He paused and watched as Pixie Bob applied some different type of detergent on a sponge and began gently maneuvering it around his half arm, “I think what I miss most is being able to feel people.”

They both looked at him. 

“Not like that. I mean, like, the warmth of people. Like body heat. I can’t feel body heat since mine is so drastically warmer. So things like hugs or holding hands don’t feel the same as they did from before I got my quirk.”

Pixie Bob pouted next to him, “I haven’t really thought about that. That is depressing.”

Ragdoll flicked a clump of bubbles at Pixie Bob, landing it in her blonde hair, “Tsuchikawa” 

He smiled, but felt another pang in his chest, “It’s fine. She’s not wrong. I miss how my mom’s hugs used to feel.”

Pixie Bob cooed, “Aww, what a mommas boy. That is so cute.”

He blushed slightly, but rolled his eyes, “In comparison to my body heat, almost everything around me feels cold. So I guess it's more accurate to say I still feel heat, but most things are so cold in comparison to my internal body temperature that it’s like trying to tell the difference between cold and slightly less cold.”

They both seemed to nod. Ragdoll had already gone through spot testing three different soaps and Pixie Bob was contemplating a scraper. Neither of them seemed to really know where to take the conversation from there. Izuku cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing in the only way he knew how; regurgitating his theories on his quirk, “What is strange with that, is that I can actually feel heat differences if they’re inside my own body. Like when I blush, I can still physically feel my cheeks get warm. That tells me that even though my internal temperature is high, it isn’t uniform. So like a normal person, I probably have temperature gradients throughout my entire body.” He paused, scanning their faces. They didn’t seem bothered. If anything they just looked mildly tired. “What I don’t know is whether blood flow or my internal flame pathways are bigger drivers of this disparity. I’m leaning towards blood flow because of how much more area in my body it can reach. The fire tube things in my body are set in place and centered on my limbs and spine, so it can’t exactly transfer heat to smaller areas like my veins can. That theory is also corroborated by the whole blushing thing… but I don’t know.”

Pixie Bob nodded as she grabbed a scraper tool, “I mean, that all makes sense to me. What I would be more interested in is how those fire tubes you speak of actually disperse heat. It’s kinda like plumbing when you think about it. How does it generate enough pressure to push flames to where they need to go? And does that mean that the strength of your flames is stronger the closer the exit is to your spine or wherever your body generates fire?”

Izuku didn’t know the answer to that. From his regular checkups at the doctors, he at least knew that he apparently had an organ next to his spine that is where the combustion happens, but how exactly it pushed flames outwards was never something that really crossed his mind. Just taking a guess, he had to assume that whatever combustion mechanism or reaction that acted as the spark generated a byproduct gas of some kind. If his flame tubes are impervious enough, then the gas buildup would attempt to escape through the nearest open exit. It’d try to find the path of least resistance. If that was the case, then why wasn’t he spouting out flames all the time? His mouth is an easy enough target. He can’t even close his nostrils, and he didn’t think that the cavities in his arm and hand had any valves to shut. So how exactly does that work? 

The first option is that there are valves further inside of his body he just didn’t know about that open and close subconsciously, kind of like a muscle. So when he called his quirk, it’d be like opening up the flood gates. But in that case, how would his body regulate the flames that can’t be released? 

The other option is that he actually had control over the activation of the organ that is responsible for combustion. If there was a pathway from his brain to the organ, then it would make sense. It’s right next to the spine, which by all likelihood, isn’t a mistake. The spine connects to the central nervous system, which could be why his quirk drives his emotions just as much as his emotions drive his quirk. 

Izuku’s postulating was interrupted by Ragdoll, “Earth to Midoriya.”

His eyes snapped back to attention, “Huh?”

Ragdoll smiled lightly, “You zoned out on us for like five minutes. The quick tests we’ve been doing with regular dish soap and detergents aren’t working. We’re gonna have to move on to some heavier stuff. With that said though, I need to get Kota to bed, so I’ll be leaving you in Tsuchikawa’s hands for a bit. Sound good?”

Izuku grumbled, “Really? You know how scary that sounds right?”

Ragdoll stood and began taking off her gloves, “It’ll be fine. And she promised not to use any acids when I’m not here.”

His shoulders relaxed a little bit. He glanced over to Pixie Bob who gave him a big grin and two thumbs up. 

He did not feel reassured. Pixie Bob pulled his attention away from Ragdoll’s retreat, “Alright kitten, let’s wash off your arms. None of the soaps are working. Whatever this armor is, a little soap isn’t gonna cut it.”

“Figures.”

Pixie Bob tossed a bucket of water over his extended arms. She began thinking aloud, “Well, if soaps don’t work and I can’t bombard you with acids, we might have to get a little creative. I wonder if this weird armor thing is susceptible to freezing. Or maybe, you have to burn your way out.”

He nodded, “Well, freezing it would be difficult. It’s still attached to me and while it’s cool to the touch, I’m pretty sure it’ll be tough to freeze it when it has an undercurrent of heat. Unless you have something like liquid nitrogen just ready to go. And that's hardly any better than dousing me with acid.”

He waved his left arm in the air dramatically, “And if this thing became hardened in extreme heat, then more extreme heat would either harden it more or be completely ineffective. Plus, I started melting your mountain last time I used my quirk, so I don’t know how great of an idea that is.”

Pixie Bob crossed her arms and began tapping her lip, deep in thought. They still had a couple of unexhausted cleaning supplies left untouched in the boxes, but they were likely more of the same. None of them would work. She stood up, “Well, we don’t know that for sure. You can choose to just use your quirk through your left hand, right?”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to be using my quirk?”

“You already ruined that. If you could manage to do what you did earlier, I think you’ll be fine.” She unwrapped her arms and excitedly began rubbing her hands together. Izuku mused that she looked like one of those old school villains from the movies. She continued, “Anywho, I think that we could test the whole heat thing if you just use your hand.”

Izuku looked around incredulously. They were in the middle of the bathhouse. Almost everything around them was wood. The entrance back into the main house was no more than ten meters away. There was no way this was a good idea. “Pixie Bob, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Oh, you worry too much. Just go in the water when you do it so that if you need to, you just submerge your hand.”

“I’d just evaporate a bunch of water if that happens.”

“Better than lighting things on fire.”

Izuku opened his mouth to argue, but realized there was no point. He wasn’t going to get anywhere trying to argue with Pixie Bob.  “Fine. Fine. I’ll try it.”

He made sure his towel was stuck in place and got up. The ground surrounding him was slick and shiny from all the soap residues. One misstep and he was in for a mean tumble. Carefully, he tiptoed to the entrance of the hot springs pool. Stepping into the water, he thought a bit more on what the mechanics of the substance actually meant. 

What did he know for a fact? He knew that the substance probably was in liquid form when it first coated his arms. That’s a typical quirk response to when he’s emotionally agitated. Then during his meltdown, the heat he created somehow hardened the material. If he could ever get the existing shell off of himself, he could try to determine at what exact temperature the substance has to reach in order to become a solid. 

Did the substance have to be attached to his body in order to harden? Or is it possible to excrete some of the liquid and then burn it. If that’s the case, then it would make an easy weapon. The idea of an on demand three dimensional printer excited him. It would have so many different applications. 

His musings were put on hold once he got knee deep into the water. Izuku glanced back at Pixie Bob, “Is here good?”

“Yeah. Give it a go!”

He shook his head. This was still a terrible idea. He felt bad enough about melting their cliffside. He’d actually die if he burnt down their bath house. Holding out his left arm, he tilted his wrist so that his palm faced the sky. The black material seemed more jagged and dangerous in this lighting. The claws he’d been stuck with definitely weren’t looking inviting. ‘ Welp, here goes nothing .’

He squinted his eyes and began funneling his quirk through his hand. He could feel the heat trying to escape, but the outlet hole in his hand was plugged. There was a growing pressure right underneath his palm, but the substance wasn’t budging. The first thing that came to mind was how he had lost his other hand. If there was excess pressure buildup, then it could explode just like last time. 

Immediately, he stopped, his eyes wide with realization. The pressure persisted. He did not like where this was going. Izuku turned frantically to Pixie Bob and opened his mouth to say something. The moment his mouth opened is when the pressure dissipated. The flame had found a pathway out. Before he could clamp his jaw, a rush burst through his esophagus and outpoured a stream of green flame. 

Pixie Bob jumped backwards just in time to dodge the initial blaze. Izuku stood there awkwardly as the flames subsided quickly. His eyes were darting across the entire area looking for damage, “That wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”

Pixie Bob took a timid step closer, extending one of her feet out to test the stone flooring in front of her. It might’ve been still hot, “That’s what they all say.” She paused, confirming the ground was safe, before walking to the edge of the pool, “So… what happened there?

“The hole in my palm is sealed from the substance. The flames had nowhere to go so I started feeling a pressure buildup. For obvious reasons, I stopped and went to tell you. But like you said, it’s like plumbing and the flames needed somewhere to go.”, He rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry!”

Pixie Bob just shook her head. She just settled on staring at Izuku. He figured that maybe if she stared long enough she’d come up with something. 

But as the seconds turned into minutes of being under the microscope, Izuku decided he’d had enough. He moved to get out of the water, “I don’t think this is getting us anywhere. Maybe once Ragdoll comes back we can try out the acids.”

As soon as he took one step out of the water, Pixie Bob jumped up, “I’ve got it! Oh kitten, this will have to work!”

Izuku glanced up at her wearily. 

“Don’t give me that look. This will actually work, I’m sure of it! You know how you said previously that you could weakly use telekinesis on your substance in liquid form? Like, you said you could move it slightly back and forth?”

“I never told you that.”

Pixie Bob shrugged, “Well, it’s on your file and in your notebook.” She waved her hands excitedly, “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. If you can do that with the liquid form, why couldn’t you do it with the solid form? Just do whatever you do normally with that and try to yank it off your body!”

Izuku couldn’t argue with her reasoning, but it did bug him he didn’t think of it first. Theoretically, if his telekinesis worked on the substance at all then he should be able to do it regardless of which physical form it’s in. The problem was the strength of his telekinesis. He’d never been able to actually push or pull the substance with enough force to make it do anything besides slightly move in a single direction. The substance was now hardened and completely stuck to his skin like glue. It’d take a lot more power to rip it off him like a Band-Aid. And if he does manage to rip it off, there’s no telling what kind of skin it’ll take with it on the way out. 

He didn’t love the idea, but he had to admit he was running out of options. 

“Alright, yeah. I can give that a try. But I’ve never been able to generate enough force to move the substance in liquid form more than a couple of centimeters. I’d have to basically learn how to do it from scratch.”

Pixie Bob clapped her hands, “Alright! Well, you should sit down and try it. Using a new aspect of your quirk can be very tiring. I’ll be cleaning up a little in the meantime. If that doesn’t work by the time Ragdoll comes back then we can try out the acids. Ragdoll mentioned earlier that whatever substance your quirk is resembles an actual known chemical and that it could be broken down by acids. So there’s hope for you yet.”

Izuku plopped down on the wooden stool with a resounding, “Yay”. 

Pixie Bob laughed, “That’s the spirit.”

Hunched over, he stared at the claws on his hand. It really had zero change after trying to melt it. Guess it would take a lot more heat than that to do anything to it. He clenched it into a fist. A sharp scratching sound reverberated in his ears. What an awful sound.

Izuku unfurled his fist. He could do this. He just had to focus. Staring at his palm, he imagined an invisible hand physically peeling the substance off. That was how he always managed to move it last time. A fake, invisible hand pushing and pulling the liquid. He squinted his eyes as he imagined the hand pulling even harder. But the more force he tried to apply, the more silly he felt. Like he was doing nothing but sitting here like an imbecile. It reminded him of when he tried in vain to use quirks he didn’t have when he was younger. 

Izuku stopped. He wiped the invisible hand from his memory. Clearly that was going nowhere. He hunched over and analyzed his hand closer. The weakest points in the coating would have to be behind the knuckles and the fingers. If he could make a fist, that meant that he had flexibility and not everything was completely solid. 

He sat up straight and tried again, this time imagining the invisible hand tearing upwards from the knuckle. The more he concentrated, the harder the force had to be. At the very least, that’s what made sense in his head. Izuku mentally attached himself to this invisible hand and exerted enough effort in the invisible pulling motion that a sweat began developing on his forehead. 

After a minute, he leaned back again in the stool, out of breath. “This isn’t working, Pixie Bob! I’m not even sure if I have telekinesis at this point. Maybe I was just imagining that previously.”

“Oh nonsense. Keep at it. I’ve still got more to clean up and then I need to run inside and check up on Kota and Ragdoll.”

Izuku just sighed. He set his hand back out. He’s got it.

He did not have it. Not even close. Ten minutes had to have passed and he was no closer to getting anything to budge. The feeling of stupidity was profusely washing over him. He was absolutely convinced that whatever movement he thought he saw previously when it was in its liquid form was a fluke or a hallucination. It either moved due to some outside force or it didn’t move at all. And so now trying to forcibly remove the substance using telekinesis was a fool’s errand. 

Izuku leaned as far back on the stool as he could without falling over. He really was losing his mind. This is proof. He groaned from exhaustion. After the day he’s had, all he could think about was his bed. This coating could stay on him for a while for all he cared. As long as he could sleep. 

He looked around the bathhouse. It was just him and the boxes now. The night had fully fallen and even the creatures of the night seemed to stop making noises. 

This was ridiculous. If it wasn’t for his working theory on how his substance had shrunk and created the bomb that went off in the alleyway, then his entire hypothesis of having weak telekinesis like his mom would go straight out the window. 

He wiped his face, dragging his cheeks down. 

No.

There had to be a trick. Maybe he was just not imagining it correctly. So far he’d been trying to peel it or pull it off of himself. What if he needs some other motion to kick his brain into gear and activate whatever form of telekinesis he has over the substance. What would be a good substitute though? Pulling and peeling were really the only ways to get it off and not make things worse. 

Push it in deeper? Not it. Push it in random directions and hope something happens? He already tried. He stood, knocking the stool over. There just had to be something. He was getting too worked up by this, all he needed to do was take a couple of deep breaths and then he’d be able to think of something. 

He let his feet wander to the edge of the pool. He stared down at the steamy surface, focusing on his face once again. It was red from his efforts. Still had bags under his eyes, but he supposes those aren’t going anywhere. His hand subconsciously held up his chin. 

Perhaps the solution was easier than he was making it out to be. Obviously there was still the acid to try, but he really, really didn’t want things to come to that. 

There were only so many directions he could use telekinesis in, right? With that thought, he took a closer look at his face, making subconscious acknowledgement of the small bit of acne popping up on his cheek. 

His eyes lit up with a thought. If he tried to use telekinesis in two directions at the same time, like pushing skin together to pop a pimple, then maybe the substance would crack so that he could peel it off easily. Ok, not the greatest analogy, but it's the idea that matters.

Izuku held out his hand over the water and then shut his eyes tight. He pictured two separate invisible hands colliding in his palm, like two waves. He repeated it, and then twisted the waves as they collided. At first, he couldn’t feel any change. Giving a second effort, Izuku tensed his stomach, willing this to work. He needed it to. He was running out of options. Then he imagined the two hands as something more solid, like tectonic plates. Two plates colliding, sending the ground upwards like a newly formed mountain range. 

He kept applying more mental pressure to the conflict until he heard a loud snap come from his hand. Izuku’s eyes shot open and there it was. He could see his own skin in the middle of his palm. A large sigh of relief escaped his lungs as his shoulders relaxed.

It worked! Pixie Bob’s idea worked! Granted, it was only a single patch no bigger than five centimeters wide, but it worked! Izuku wanted to yell in triumph. If Kota wasn’t actively sleeping, he would’ve made his victory known to the entire forest. It was about damn time. And this meant he wasn’t crazy, he did have weak telekinesis! 

Now he just had to figure out how to do this on a large scale to get it all off. 

Izuku ran back to the stool and took a seat before shutting his eyes tightly. ‘ Alright, so the trick is to collide the two sides and then add a twisting motion. Easy, easy. ’

How foolish of him, thinking it would’ve been easy. Since when had anything in his life been easy? Ridiculous line of thought, honestly. 

Izuku lost track of time, but by the time that both Ragdoll and Pixie Bob had returned, he’d only managed to get the material off of his left arm entirely. His skin was red and raw underneath, but at the very least, it was off. He’d created a pile of the discarded shards of the substance. It’d be interesting to see what they can do with it later. 

For now, though, he just wanted this off of body and to jump into his bed.

Ragdoll was standing next to him with her eyes zoning out, a telltale sign she’s trying to use her quirk. Pixie Bob was somewhere off to the left making sure that the boxes were fully stocked again. He saw her turn around, “Oh oh, Midoriya!”

Through the focus he had on his right arm, he glanced at her, “Yeah?”

“Wanna test the acids on the shards you popped off?”

That made him perk up. He went through the mental motions of breaking his quirk’s hold on him right before hearing another snap as another patch of red skin became visible. Once he got the technique down, he’d been going relatively quickly, but it only ever came off in small pieces. Considering the acid, Izuku decided, “Yeah, give me a couple of minutes to get the rest of this off. I want to see it for myself.” He turned to Ragdoll, “Hey Ragdoll, you said that the best acid is probably hydrochloric right?”

Ragdoll’s eyes snapped back to normalcy, “Yeah, if I had to guess.”

Izuku smiled as another, larger chunk of the hardened shell fell to the ground. “Alright, then lets do it.”

After another fifteen minutes, he’d successfully gotten all of the substance off of him. His chest had been the worst to remove, not only because it was more sensitive, but because it was harder to visualize than his arm. 

Hopping over excitedly, Izuku used the last of his energy to bear witness to this. If it does dissolve, like Ragdoll theorizes it will, then any uses of it moving forward would have to take chemical compositions into account, vital information that’ll impact what kind of hero he’ll be.

Ragdoll had forced them all to stand half a meter away from the experiment. She held the container carefully over the large pile of his armor he had shed. “Alright, watch closely…”

Slowly her hand tilted downwards, carefully letting a small amount drip onto the material. 

Seemingly, at first, nothing happened. And then it all went off. The black substance began violently bubbling where it had made contact with the acid. Then the color started to lighten as the solid form of the material began melting into a sludge. The color went from a dark charcoal and nearly black to a dark brown. Pixie Bob began backpedaling and Ragdoll stopped pouring the acid. Izuku couldn’t tell why Pixie Bob had that reaction until the smell hit him. An overwhelmingly strong scent of chlorine. Quickly, he covered his mouth and nose with his hand and took a couple of steps backwards, “Aw gross. That smells like a public pool.”

Pixie Bob laughed, “No kidding. It also is super hot.”

The reaction only lasted for a few seconds, but it told Izuku everything he needed to know. He looked at Ragdoll incredulously, “And we were legitimately considering pouring that on my body. Absolutely hilarious.”

She smiled, “Hey, it's for science. What’s a little bodily injury?” She took a step forward and grabbed a piece of his hardened substance and analyzed it, “Seriously, though, I’m happy you were able to get this off of you. Tomorrow, we can do some testing with it. I’m sure you already have tons of ideas you want to verify.” 

“Oh absolutely,” He paused and wiped his eyes. That chlorine stung, “But right now I just want to sleep.”

Pixie Bob was already holding the box she had come in with, “I one hundred percent agree. Let’s leave the shards and the mess of a chemical reaction out here for the night. There’s been too much excitement today for anything else.”

Ragdoll nodded and turned to Izuku, “Alright, you’re good to go.” Her face fell slightly, “Tomorrow we will have to discuss some repercussions for your actions today. We’re all glad you’re ok, since that is our number one priority, but we do have to have some rules here. Mandalay will be leading that tomorrow, so sleep well.”

The weight about today’s earlier events had suddenly dropped back down onto his shoulders. He’d been so caught up in getting the substance off of him and quirk analysis that it’d slipped his mind. A pang of guilt ran back through his body. Coming off the high of finally getting his quirk off of him, this was a gut punch. He wasn’t looking forward to whatever Mandalay had to say. He knew he fucked up and that he deserved at least a stern talking to, but getting in trouble never feels good. On the bright side, he’s getting punished. He doubts whatever they’ll stick him with will be that bad — or at least the punishment won’t scale with the crime. His reaction today was at least in part egged on by Tiger, so whatever punishment he gets, they’ll have to punish Tiger with. 

Izuku thought about it a little more. Actually, the sign of a punishment is overall still a good thing. Means they have morals and won’t just skim over his wrongdoings. Still sucked horribly, but at least he knew their heads and hearts were in the right place.

Izuku simply forced a small smile, nodded, and then turned to go inside. Groveling about his wrongdoings can wait, he had a bed that he needed to be in yesterday. 

For once, his intuition was right. Given that he had almost burnt down their forest and house, all he received as punishment was practically a slap to the wrist. 

Mandalay at breakfast had sat him down and lectured him for roughly ten minutes on what it meant to use quirks responsibly and how it’s ‘Ok to open up.’ She had also stuck him on babysitting duty for the next three weeks, but that was hardly an issue. Kota was a little antisocial and rude, but he didn’t seem like that big of a trouble maker. The kid was smart too, so he didn’t have to worry about him sticking a fork in a wall socket or anything. In addition, she’d signed him up with a professional online therapist and he had to attend biweekly meetings to talk with them. He wasn't thrilled about that, but if it helped with controlling his anger, it might be worth it. 

All in all, he considered himself lucky. In fact, he was actively carrying out one of his punishments. Kota sat on the opposite end of the couch and was staring at the television. Some cartoon was playing, but Izuku couldn’t pin down what it was. He’d seen images of some of the characters before, but whether or not he’d ever actually watched an episode of it was doubtful. Kota hadn’t spoken a word to him in twenty five minutes, which was just about status quo. 

Be that as it may, silence was never Izuku’s strong suit, “So, what kind of show is this? I’m not sure I recognize it.”

Kota didn’t miss a beat, refusing to look away from the screen, “Why? What’s it to you?”

Izuku shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. The best way to lose Kota’s attention is to care too much, as odd as that seemed. “Just curious. It doesn’t look like something I grew up with.”

Kota turned, scowling, “That’s because you’re old. You probably only watched the boring stuff.”

Izuku chuckled, “Woah there. Those are fighting words. For your information, the animated ‘ Super Mutts ’ was a fantastic series.”

The kid’s scowl deepened before turning back to the TV and hissing, “You would like that wouldn’t you, you hero wannabe.”

Playfully holding up his hands in surrender, Izuku replied humorously, “Ouch. And technically I’m actually closer to being a felon than a hero, so chew on that.”

“Great, a criminal trying to become a hero. Not like there’s much of a difference anyways.”

“Hey now, I don’t agree with that. Heroes are always putting their lives on the line to save people. That’s not a very criminal thing to do.”

“Hmph, typical for a wannabe hero to say.”

Izuku was genuinely shocked. He’d never met anyone who wasn’t a fan of heroes, much less a young kid that isn’t completely enamored by the hero industry. “C’mon, you gotta like some heroes, right? What about All Might? He’s my favorite.”

Kota gave him a side-eye, “Real original, aren’t you? Heroes are all a sham. Now leave me alone.”

Izuku nodded thoughtfully. There had to be some hero that Kota liked. He literally lived with four of them! To say that they’re a sham while living under the same roof is quite the decision. And from his experience at the very least, the Wild Wild Pussy Cats were all super nice and welcoming, even more so than he had heard about them online. Well, besides Tiger. He’s still an asshole.

But still,  how could Kota not like heroes? It just didn’t make sense. Heroes are awesome. They get to help people for a living. 

Sure, it clearly wasn’t for everyone as far as professions go, but to not even find a facet of the hero world to become fascinated with was mind boggling. Izuku’s mind thought back to the paper he had written for his writing class before he lost his arm. The prompt had been simply to pick a side on the topic of the morals behind hero society. Simple enough. The whole point was to get a nuanced perspective about what hero society really is and whether or not it actually benefited the average person. It was only supposed to be five pages in length, but he had made it more than double that. He picked the side of hero society not actually being beneficial to the average person and ended up writing twelve full pages. 

At first, he only did it to test a contrasting view from his own, but after starting his research for the paper, he was hooked into the surprisingly deep moral complexities that go into sustaining hero society. From tax dollar usage to crime scene collateral damage, there were plenty of gray zones in hero work that were typically looked over without second thought, but what caught his attention the most was the theory about how globally, there is an easier pipeline to crime due to the fact that there’s heroes. Like an anti-movement. Those who wanted to become heroes, but couldn’t, or those who were injured or had a loved one injured via collateral damage; they had perfectly reasonable motivations for turning to crime. And it’s not like they are all evil people. A lot of criminals are really just people down on their luck or those who feel wronged by something out of their control. Izuku couldn’t endorse it, but through this essay, he began to at the very least understand that there’s a lot more nuance than the public or the media are willing to give. 

Of course, everything he’d studied about in the paper he had written failed to encapsulate Japan. Japan was inherently special as it was the home of All Might. Anything that would typically apply to crime rates or crime statistics could be thrown out the window. In Japan the crime was actually incredibly low. Sure that could be attributed in part to cultural history, but in today’s era, that argument hardly had enough weight to stand on its own. It was all because of All Might. His presence in the country was just so oppressive on crime, that there really was no point in attempting anything. It was inspiring, in all honesty, to be such an upstanding hero and be powerful enough to back up your ideals. Problems obviously came up correlating to All Might’s existence, but they all paled in comparison to those seen by other countries. He truly is one of the kind.

Maybe Kota was just one of those people, who don’t like heroes for some legitimate reason. He couldn’t be very old, but maybe something happened. Or maybe he was taught those beliefs by someone. Clearly it wasn’t the WWPC, but he could’ve learned it online or something. 

Izuku eyed Kota carefully. Honestly, he didn’t know how he should be dealing with him. Heroes were like ninety percent of his entire childhood, how was he supposed to relate to a kid who hates them?

He decided to start off small, “Hey Kota, what kind of quirk do you have?”

Kota smirked, “Like I’d tell you, loser.”

Welp. Better luck next time.

Chapter Text

2 Months Later…

“Oh come on Midoriya! Don’t tell me that’s the best you’ve got!”

Izuku rested on a knee, breathlessly trying to regain all the air his lungs had just expunged. Absentmindedly, he shoved his index finger and thumb into his mouth, quickly checking that he still had all of his teeth. He had just been on the receiving end of a roundhouse kick courtesy of Tiger and had made a dent in the forest clearing with his head. Forcing himself to look up, he was reacquainted with an aggravatingly haughty smile on Tiger’s face. The older man didn’t even look like he'd broken a sweat. Tiger had his right arm wrapped behind his back, where Izuku knew it was tied. Even with one hand, Tiger was absolutely killing him. Not that it mattered, since Izuku was the one who told him not to hold back. He’d been just full of great ideas recently, hadn’t he?

Izuku let out a groan as he pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly on the way up. Tiger shifted his stance, ready for another round. “You know Midoriya, if I was a real villain, you’d be dead by now. No time to check your pearly whites in the real world.”

“Yeah, yeah. But my mom would kill me if she paid all that money to put me in braces just for me to get my teeth knocked out. We’d be-” He gasped, taking in as much air as he could, “We’d be sending you the bill for the fake teeth.” After steadying himself, Izuku assumed the stance that he’d been practicing for the past two months. His feet shifted in the dirt, widening to just past his shoulders, with his knees bent and his weight pushed forward. Relaxing his back, he assumed a somewhat hunched position and twisted his torso to the side, protecting his right side. Slowly, he raised his left arm to his face while tucking the right close to his side. Repeated light bounces in the knees allowed him to loosen up and shake off the last blow. 

Looking at Tiger, there was no way to anticipate what he was going to lead with. Every time they spar, he seemed to come up with something new. A new approach, a new tactic, or a new move. As the man shifted, Izuku recognized the movement. This particular stance was something he’s become incredibly familiar with. Tiger had shuffled his feet until they were offset, with his right foot leading. His torso faced forward, ready to take Izuku head on. Tiger’s left hand was extended outwards, gesturing for Midoriya to make the first move. 

Although he’d seen it plenty of times before, there was absolutely nothing to gleam out of it. No tells in what Tiger would counter with first. This way, Izuku had no choice but to try and predict what he would do in reaction to whatever Izuku opened with. Unfortunately, that meant Izuku would always be forced into the aggressor role. 

Since Tiger was telling him to start the match, there should be some hint of an advantage there. Depending on how he starts this match and what move he uses, there’s only so many countermeasures that Tiger can try to take — especially without his quirk. But what was the right choice? And would he be able to actually deliver?

For as intelligent as Izuku prided himself on being, he wasn’t great at on the fly decision making. He understood each of his options perfectly. In concept, they all sounded fantastic, but choosing one of them and then being able to actually physically execute it proved incredibly challenging. Too many moves meant too many options. Too many options meant that he would overthink it. Overthinking it meant certain failure.

Flexing his fingers anxiously, he attempted to shake the sting pulsing through his body from his last defeat. Tiger just looked so untouchable. One arm or two, the man still had at the very least double Izuku’s body weight. It was a complete weight class mismatch.

‘Okay. Just have to land one clean hit. What’s the right move? ’

A straight punch? Absolutely not — he’d already tried that. Tiger had easily read it and simply swatted his arm away before planting a kick to his ribs for good measure. Aiming for the weaker right side was the obvious choice, but Tiger would surely be anticipating that. Without a right arm, Tiger wouldn’t be able to block his attacks as easily and it would cause his body weight to be distributed unevenly, but with the weight difference, Izuku wasn’t confident any of it would matter. 

So what was left? A feint? Maybe, but Tiger would see through it in a second. Izuku shifted his feet restlessly. More and more options piled up in his head like puzzle pieces; most of them not fitting together.

The longer he thought, the more the pressure built up. He needed to just move. 

‘ I need to surprise him. Needs to be something weird. Something sloppy. ’

He forced himself forward, heart pounding, and launched into motion before he could change his mind. Closing the gap fast, he dipped low and swung into a messy sweep kick. His heel scythed across the dirt, the angle jagged, deliberately ugly. 

Tiger didn’t even blink. He braced and let the blow smack into his shin, a dull, punishing impact. Pain lanced up Izuku’s leg, but worse was the sting of being dismissed—the kick hadn’t even been worth dodging.

He tried to hook Tiger’s ankle, but a fist came crashing toward him, forcing Izuku to pull back.

‘Good. Make him commit that arm. That’s what I need.’

He shoved his weight forward and let out a startled yelp, pitching himself into a clumsy tumble. His shoulder slammed against the ground, grit scraping across his cheek.

‘Sell it. Sell it like you screwed up.’

He rolled with the fall, tucking tight, then burst upward out of the spin. His torso twisted as he snapped into a rising kick, momentum carrying his leg in a sharp arc. For a heartbeat he thought he had him—but Tiger turned smoothly, letting the kick thud against the meat of his shoulder. It was like kicking into stone. Izuku’s foot bounced off, his balance faltering.

‘Didn’t even budge him—!’

Panicked, he flung a backhand toward Tiger’s jaw, hoping sheer desperation could land something. But before the strike connected, a huge hand clamped around his bicep.

Air rushed past him as Tiger twisted, and then Izuku hit the ground hard. Pain detonated through his elbow and shoulder as his whole weight came down on them. He didn’t even protest as his body limply rolled over in the dirt.

Somewhere behind him, he heard Tiger egg him on, “Better. You put some thought into that one. Tried to catch me by surprise. Also put some of that acrobatics training into practice. Good to see Midoriya.”

Breathing heavily, Izuku painstakingly rolled himself upright, hugging his elbow close to his chest, “Not that it got me anywhere. Not even attempting to dodge my attacks is cheating.”

Tiger scrunched his face slightly, “How so?”

“Well, if I had access to my quirk, then not dodging would’ve gotten you turned into ashes.”

“If we had access to quirks, I would’ve had you pinned before you could even think about making a move on me.”  Tiger walked closer to where Izuku sat on the dirt. Crouching down, Tiger smiled gently, “I meant what I said. You are improving, even if it doesn’t feel like it. You just got to keep in mind that you asked for me to not hold back. I also have more than a decade of combat experience on you.”

Midoriya just sighed. 

Tiger looked past Midoriya’s shoulder, “Again, you’re thinking too much about every move you make. When you do that, you’re basically telegraphing your entire gameplan. That surprise attack after pretending to stumble would’ve worked if you hadn’t tensed your entire body right before tripping. If you were really falling, you wouldn't have twisted your body like you were preparing another attack. Small things like that can be the difference between life and death.” He paused, before making eye contact once more, “I do respect the creativity though. And you used some of those moves we’ve been practicing. You might actually be onto something with this jumpy, acrobatic fighting style you keep droning on about.”

Standing, Tiger extended his hand. Izuku gripped it, but the pulling motion that followed sent another spike of pain flowing through his limb. He grimaced, but stood up straight. “It’s really the only way I can fight. Especially when I’m severely disadvantaged in size, height, and limb count. I actually have a couple more ideas for how I can implement some more momentum conservation in my attacks. The pro, Mirko, uses her entire body like a spring to incrementally build up power. Obviously my quirk is vastly different, but I think a couple of her tricks could be implemented in what I’m trying to develop. With my quirk, I can create my own momentum and power.”

Tiger nodded thoughtfully as he untied his bound arm from behind his back, “That’s a good plan. She doesn’t really rely on her arms that much, so it could work for you. But, before you start worrying about copying that, you should develop your natural center of gravity. I know it has only been a little bit of time since you lost your arm, but you really need to find that balance. Throughout each of your attacks today, you were moving your body like you actually had two full arms. It makes your movements off balance and easily exploitable.”

Izuku nodded intently, making sure to take special mental notes on every critique. At first, these critiques made him cringe and caused him to become upset at his own ineptitude. Now though, he saw how valuable the input was in how he can shape his training and development process. 

Tiger crossed his arms, “Alright. Last thing for today. Get into your pre-fight stance.”

After a quick groan, Izuku complied, trying to mimic what he had done previously before that last spar. Once set, he looked back to Tiger expectantly. The larger man took a quick stroll in a circle around Izuku, silently analyzing the form. Izuku couldn’t help but feel self conscious as Tiger completed the analysis and let out a long hum. “I know this is the stance we’ve been teaching you, but really you’re not going to do yourself any favors starting a fight like that. This stance is good for defensive maneuvers because of its versatility, but if you’re starting a fight and trying to make use of momentum for attacks, it needs some work. Here, your feet are too spread out from each other. The whole ‘width of your shoulders’ thing works best for balance, but if you want to be on attack mode from the start of each battle, you have to be ready to pounce, not stand your ground. You had nearly double the separation that you should’ve had.” 

Tiger stuck out his arms and let them extend to Izuku’s ankles, gently guiding the feet to their proper placement. “And the staggering of the feet should’ve been about five centimeters farther.” Again, Tiger adjusted Izuku’s footing, pushing his back foot further behind him. “Your torso is turned well, but you’re too stiff. If you start tense then you’re gonna rely too much on your muscle than the momentum the twist is supposed to give you. And your right arm shouldn’t just be tucked into your body. In a real fight, you’d have your quirk, and as far as I’m concerned, your right arm is a much stronger asset than your left in that regard.” He paused and scratched his chin, “Even if you weren’t in a real fight or for whatever reason couldn’t use your quirk, you’re losing mechanical power. It’s true that while spinning you can gain speed by tucking your arms in, but if you’re tucking in your right arm and sticking out your left then you’ll only be throwing yourself off balance. You want to either commit to adding angular velocity to your spins or to sticking out your arms to get an extra bit of leverage in your hits.”

Izuku glanced down at his feet, committing the stance to memory. He shifted his weight, twisting his torso back and forth, trying to feel out what Tiger had meant about balance and reach. A smile crept onto his face despite the ache still buzzing in his arm. Finally. Ever since he’d thought up the idea of a more mobile fighting style, he’d been waiting for this.

Until now, Tiger and Pixie Bob had humored him with the basics — rolls, tumbles, the kind of breakfalls anyone could use to stay alive. But this was Tiger pretty much putting his seal of approval on his plans. This felt like the first real step toward the thing he’d been imagining.

The idea had hit him weeks ago, mid-spar with one of Pixie Bob’s mud monsters. He’d been knocked flat on his back for what felt like the hundredth time, jaw ringing, when he came to the hard conclusion that the fundamentals weren’t going to cut it. Not for him. With one arm gone, his defenses would always be weaker, his guard always full of holes. Trying to fight like anyone else would just keep putting him in the same position — face-first in the dirt.

But when Pixie Bob finally let him use his quirk, something had clicked. Fire meant propulsion. If Katsuki could blast himself around with explosions, why couldn’t he do the same with flames? All he had to do was steal a page out of Katsuki’s book. His first attempt had been clumsy — a sideways spinning kick. As soon as he was on one foot, pivoting his body around with his right leg, he stuck his left hand out and ignited a short burst of flame, vastly increasing the speed of the spin. Upon contact, the mud was hardly any more hindrance than air. His foot cut straight through the monster’s neck, tearing the head clean off — victory, just for a moment.

The follow through on the kick carried too much momentum, launching him sideways at an odd angle, flinging himself into the base of a nearby tree before rag dolling across the dirt. Painful, embarrassing… but it had worked. 

That night, he hadn’t slept. Instead, he’d filled page after page with notes: heroes who fought with momentum, acrobats who turned motion into power, elemental fighters who shaped their quirks into weapons. Endeavor, of course, had dominated his research, but Izuku knew he couldn’t just copy the number two hero. Endeavor was a mountain of muscle; he was… not. Mimicking that style right now would only break him faster.

Now, standing here with Tiger’s words still echoing in his head, the thoughts swirled like wildfire. His body moved without thinking — arms tucking in, then flaring out as he rehearsed a sloppy leg sweep — the motions of an idea still half-formed. He could see it, the outline of a fighting style that was his, something fast, acrobatic, unpredictable. He just didn’t know how long it would take before it was good enough to hold his own against Tiger.

Tiger knocked him out of his zone by smacking the back of his head, “Kid, you can worry about that later. Ragdoll doesn’t appreciate tardiness. Hit the showers, you look like you’re halfway to becoming one of Pixie Bob’s abominations right now.”

Izuku rolled his eyes as he knocked dirt off of his left arm with the end of his stump, “Oh, really? I wonder why. Surely not because my teacher shoved me into the dirt repeatedly.”

Tiger shrugged before turning and walking back down the trail that led to the facility, “You can’t pull that on me. You wanted to be taken seriously, your fate was sealed the moment Mandalay agreed with you.”

“Oh, whatever.” Izuku jogged to catch up before falling in step with Tiger, “So what do you think about letting me use my quirk a little bit? The whole point of having an acrobatic style of fighting is so that I can use my quirk with it.”

Tiger glanced over skeptically, “Not a chance.”

Stumbling momentarily, Izuku stood his ground, “What? Why not? How am I supposed to perfect this if I’m not allowed to use the main motivation for it?”

“First off, your quirk is not the driving motivation for a more mobile fighting style. Do not misunderstand that. The reason why you need a mobile fighting style is because you’re missing half an arm. So before you even think about using your quirk with this prototype of a combat technique, you should first figure out how to use it to compensate for that lacking defense.”

Arriving at the door to the gym, Tiger leveled with him, “If I think you can adequately cover your deficiencies with this fighting style and actually show some improvement in form, then I’ll talk to Pixie Bob about setting you loose with your quirk? We got a deal?”

Izuku smiled broadly before swinging open the door, forgetting all about the throbbing of his arm, “Deal.”

Speed walking through the hallway, Izuku narrowly dodged the corner of the wall before sharply turning into the living room. The grin he had couldn’t be tamed. After two months, Ragdoll was finally letting him in the lab. According to them, it was where they put together their hero costumes, but clearly it had to have more than that. There was no way that they just had a full supply of a bunch of different acids to get his substance off without needing it for something else. And last he checked, they didn’t carry around acids in their costumes. And if they named it the “lab” and not “workshop” or “design room” then they had to have some actual equipment in there. The possibilities were endless. What kind of experiments did they run in there?

Passing by the couch where Kota was laying, Izuku offered a small greeting, “Hello Kota.”

Izuku didn’t have to look to know Kota just rolled his eyes at him, “Get out of the way. You’re blocking the TV.”

Without missing a beat, Izuku hurried along into another hallway, this time leading to the lab. “Good talk, Kota. See you later.”

“Weirdo.”

Turning the corner, he spotted Ragdoll standing outside the large silver door of the lab, her face in a tablet, jotting something down. Once he closed the distance he excitedly greeted her, “Good afternoon, Ragdoll.”

Her eyes met his, her eyebrow raised, “My my. Someone sure is cheery right after training with Tiger.”

Izuku scoffed, “No thanks to him. In the shower, I tried to figure out if I had a dislocated shoulder or not.”

“Oh you’d know pretty fast if you dislocated your shoulder.”

“I would hope so. I think it’s just a bit sore from my body weight being thrown on it.” He glanced at the doorway,  “Anyways, what’s the plan? Finally letting me play around with a couple things in the lab?”

Ragdoll turned, slowly opening up the heavy door, “Maybe. The main goal is to show you around so that if you need something from here in the future, you’ll know where to find it. We can test out your quirk here too. It’ll also get you into thinking about your hero costume. Did you know that UA actually pays for their hero students’ suits? They outsource the costume designs to proper manufacturers, but they also have a lot of in house alterations and technological development through their support department.”

Her words were lost to him as he took in the lab. It was nothing like he had anticipated. A flood of yellow light illuminated several tables and machines. His first impression was pure chaos. Fabric rolls were stacked taller than him, lengths of tubing coiled in tangled nests, scraps of metal in uneven piles. The surfaces of the tables were hardly recognizable with how much stuff was on them. Yet somehow, the more he stared, the more things began making sense. There was an order to the disorder. This was a workshop in every sense of the name, not a lab. Each table was a workstation with different materials and different projects. There were devices and gadgets at pretty much every state of completion.

It smelled of machine oil and singed fabric, undercut by the faint tang of solder. A humming 3D printer clicked steadily in the corner, spooling out a translucent sheet of material that glowed faintly blue. Next to it, a rack of mannequins stood in eerie silence, each dressed in half-completed costumes—one torso encased in flame-retardant plating, another draped with the same blue fabric that Pixie Bob wore.

Izuku’s mouth went dry. His fingers twitched in his pocket for his notebook, but came up empty. He must’ve forgotten it in his hurry to get here. Damnit .

Ragdoll twirled on her heel, spreading her arms wide, “Welcome to the brain of the Pussycats. A lot of our job is in the field, sure, but this is where the real magic happens. As you know, costumes aren’t just for fashion, Midoriya—they’re survival. The right weave, the right reinforcement… sometimes that’s the difference between standing back up or not.” 

She guided him toward a wide table cluttered with swatches of fabric and jagged shards of what looked like hardened resin. She picked one up and smacked it against the edge of the table. It cracked with a loud pop .

“See that? This one looked great in theory, but when Pixie Bob tried it against her own quirk, it shattered like candy. Useless.” She tossed the shard aside without hesitation. “That’s the goal—fail, adjust, fail better. Our process is a bit different than what I anticipate yours will have to be. The WWPC don’t deal with criminals directly most of the time. We’re more of a mountain rescue squad, so our designs and costumes reflect that.”

Izuku’s eyes darted everywhere at once. His brain was already categorizing: flame-retardant alloys, compression fabrics, carbon fiber plates. The mannequins practically begged him to dismantle and analyze them. He stepped closer to one suit with reinforced gloves, recognizing the dense padding at the knuckles.

“This is Tiger’s, right?”

“Yup. The stitching on those knuckles is triple layered. That particular prototype is a work in progress. We’re trying to make the fabric a little bit more flexible so that he can use his quirk with it while still maintaining the rigidness needed in a brawl.” 

Izuku nodded, gently squishing the padding of the knuckles. He hadn’t even thought about Tiger extending his fingers in battle before. It’d probably be super versatile. 

Ragdoll plucked another item from a shelf: a small disk, no larger than a coin. “Hey Midoriya, watch this.”

She pressed it to the floor, and a puff of smoke erupted, filling the space with a hazy cloud. Izuku coughed, waving his hand in front of his face, but his eyes were wide. “A smoke bomb? Seriously? I don’t remember any of you using smoke bombs in your hero work.”

Ragdoll shrugged as the haze dissipated into a nearby vent, “Some things are just for fun. We’ve been getting pulled into more and more criminal cases recently so we may be forced to branch out in the future.”

Izuku nodded slowly, taking in what that meant. Why would a mainly rescue team of heroes be pulled into more crime related cases recently? Was crime on the rise or something? He’d definitely have to ask later.

Looking at the plated armor on the mannequin, he thought of when his substance had hardened. Back then, it had been more a nuisance and frightening new aspect of his quirk, but now he could imagine all the different ways he could mold it into something usable. He was sure that there was the right materials in here to suit his needs. 

Ragdoll seemingly picked up on his thoughts, “Thinking about your substance right? Good. That’s actually something I wanted to test out while we're here. But before we move onto that, let me finish the tour.” 

She walked over to another table, this one covered in scraps of metal and blueprints. Welding sparks lit the walls as robotic arms fussed over small plates and joints. A half-assembled gauntlet rested on a bench, fingers jointed with gleaming hinges.

“Armor station,” Ragdoll said. “The claws we add to our gloves aren’t just for decoration. They’re surprisingly useful, in combat and out of it. Problem is, if it’s too heavy, our hand movements get sloppy. Balance, balance, balance.” She flicked the gauntlet so it clinked. “That thing weighs less than it looks. Took us six failed attempts to shave it down.”

Izuku bent low, running his eyes over the hinges. If he hadn’t been told what it was, he probably wouldn’t have ever guessed this was what was on the inside of each of their gloves. It suddenly made him glad Tiger didn’t spar with him in costume. 

Ragdoll then pulled him into a cramped alcove with shelves of odd gadgets. “We’ve got sensors, adhesives, cooling gel packs. Little bit of everything. You never know when some of this could be useful.” She motioned to a box on the floor underneath the first shelf, “Like all those acids we could’ve tried on your hardened substance.”

“This place is awesome.” Izuku said in awe as he took another look around the room. If only he actually knew how to handle machinery like this. This definitely wasn’t covered in his middle school curriculum. Granted, it’d probably be pretty tough to try and get some of these machines to work with only one hand.

Ragdoll smiled, “Glad you think so. This is just as big of a part of heroism as actually going out there and saving people. Heroes are still people and they can still get hurt, so the designs of their gear and costumes is the best way to keep them safe.”

Izuku nodded. This was a lot of information to take in all at once. And his mind was racing with what kind of designs or features he’d want in his hero costume. Admittedly, he really liked small gadgets like the smoke bomb. Not entirely useful given he can create smoke at will with his fire, but if he could incorporate some small tricks like that into his arsenal, that’d be pretty cool. 

Ragdoll clapped her hands together, “Alright. Now for the main reason I brought you here.” She walked over to another table, grabbing a black bottle and holding it up for Izuku to inspect, “This is a bottle of phenolic resin. Surprisingly inexpensive these days and used in a lot of the things we make here. Very helpful with electronics and building just about anything. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but you know what I mean. Very useful. It works as an adhesive.”

Setting the bottle down, she focused back on Izuku, “Now, I’m sure you're curious why I’m bringing that up. Well, phenolic resin is a thermoset. When heated to high enough temperatures, the material hardens. And once it hardens, it physically cannot be melted due to the nature of how its molecules orient themselves. It starts as a liquid, you heat it up and it becomes a solid, and then no matter how hard you try, it won’t melt again. Sound familiar?”

Izuku held his hand up and stared at it, “So whatever my substance is can be used to create tools right? I mean, it covered my arms and basically made my hands lethal weapons. What if I can use my quirk to make tools or even armor?”

She grinned, “That’s what I was thinking. I mean, you’re nowhere near the level of control I’d like you to be at in order to try to make the armor thing work, but I figured we could try to make some shapes with it today in the lab. Test out its strength and viability as a material. It’d also be nice to know at what temperature it actually hardens at.”

Jackpot. This is exactly what he’d been hoping for when he heard that Ragdoll was giving him access to the lab. For the past two months all he’s had to work with were theories. Now he had the opportunity to find out some real answers. “So where are we testing this? I mean, I don’t want to ruin anything here with the heat.”

Ragdoll pushed herself off of the table she’d been leaning on, “Well, I was thinking we could try out the kiln we have here. We bought it a couple years ago to help test a couple of polymer suit prototypes, but that ended up not panning out. Now it just kinda sits here.” 

In the corner of the workshop was a cylindrical shape covered in a dusty beige tarp. Ragdoll gripped the fabric before gently sliding it off, attempting to not kick up all the dust. Underneath, a wide, squat cylinder sat there on a heavy-duty wheeled frame, its lid clamped down with thick metal latches. Several cords and vent pipes fed out of the back, disappearing into the ceiling. It looked… unimpressive. Izuku swore his middle school had one of these in the art room. That one was nowhere near as big, but they looked the same otherwise. Ragdoll tapped the top of it, “I think the last time we used this bad boy was when Pixie Bob attempted to take up pottery.” She shook her head regrettably, “You would think someone with powers over earth would actually be talented with something like that.”

That earned a small chuckle out of Izuku, “So how exactly would I be using this?”

“Well,” Ragdoll started as she sprung the latch open and lifted the lid with a small struggle, “For now, you excrete some of your substance in whatever shape you want, I take about fifteen steps back, and then you focus your blasts into the kiln and see what happens. The kiln should be able to contain your flames and it has an internal temperature gauge that I can monitor while you do your thing. Eventually, I’d like to see what kind of shapes you can form using your telekinesis, but for now just setting it up manually should be fine.”

The idea of just letting him let loose with his flames set alarm bells off in his head, but he couldn’t argue with the end goal that Ragdoll had in mind. Besides, if what Ragdoll said was true, then if he burnt through the kiln, it wouldn’t be a big deal. They didn’t use it much anyways. For the sake of understanding his quirk, this was actually huge. Before now, he’d never actually gotten an opportunity to test out the exact temperatures of his flames. He’d just been making ballpark estimates based off of shoddy mathematics up till now. Even if he couldn’t go all out, just knowing what the base temperature is of his flames would be a huge step up. Izuku took a look around the workshop another time, noting just how many combustible items were nearby. If something were to go wrong… it would go very wrong. 

Ragdoll followed his gaze before hitting him gently in the shoulder, “Oh don’t worry about that, Midoriya. You’ve grown a lot since the last time you went all out. I’m sure you’ll be able to control the flames just fine.”

Izuku smiled but shook his head, “I’m not too sure about that. I don’t have pyrokinesis. Once I shoot out the flames, I have no control over them. Best I can do is try to regulate the flame output.”

“That’ll be fine,” she paused, “It is a bit odd you can’t control your flames though. Most emitter type flame quirks have that ability.”

“I hardly think my quirk qualifies as an emitter type. I’d argue it’s more of a mutation than anything else. So if you think about it that way, it kinda makes sense.”

Shrugging, Ragdoll considered that, “Maybe. I guess it doesn’t matter right now though.” Peering inside the kiln and pointing to a plate that lay at the bottom, Ragdoll continued, “Anyways, you see that plate there? Try secreting your substance onto it. Make whatever shape you’d like, but I’d recommend something simple.”

With a quick nod, Midoriya tentatively reached into the machine. Something simple, huh? The first thing that came to mind was simply a straight line. If all went well, then it would come out resembling something like a stick. Pinching his fingers together and shutting his eyes, he imagined himself on that first day at Aldera Junior High when his nerves forced the substance to unwillingly seep out of his fingertips. 

Out of all aspects of his quirk, this one was up there with his least favorite. Having his substance secrete based on emotional state was unbearably inconvenient. Slowly, he felt a sliminess emerge on his fingertips before dropping down below, settling into charcoal colored pools of liquid. Opening his eyes, he carefully moved his hand down in as straight of a line as he could manage. 

By the time he finished, though, his creation was a sad excuse for a line. The edges were jagged from uneven liquid distribution, and the pooling of it caused it to hardly stick together in a continuous manner. It was fifteen centimeters of chaos. Pulling his hand out of the kiln, he motioned for Ragdoll to inspect his handiwork. 

As soon as her eyes met the failure of a line, she chuckled, “What kind of shape were you going for?”

Izuku held his hands up defensively, “I was just trying to see if I could get it in a line. Maybe it’d turn into a stick or something.”

She hummed, amused, “A ‘line’ you say? Interesting.” She waved her hands, moving on, “Anyways, I’m gonna turn it on so that the thermometer starts working and then I’m gonna go over to the fabrics table and hide there. That’s when you light this thing up, alright?”

“Got it.”

Pressing some buttons on the side of the, Ragdoll turned on the kiln with a hum. She motioned a quick thumbs up before retreating. Izuku watched as she cartoonishly tried to shield herself behind the stack of fabrics. Technically, it did cover most of her body, but there was still a glaring issue, “Ragdoll, you know those are flammable right?”

“Of course, but if the flames escape then there’s not a whole lot I can do in here anyways. Worst comes to worst, I can chuck one of the smoke bombs over there. It may work as a fire retardant. But really, I’m hiding behind these to shield myself from the heat. You are shoving your flames into the kiln with the hatch open, so there’s not a whole lot of containment.”

Guess he couldn’t argue with that. The idea of a fire retardant smoke bomb was a fantastic idea though. “Alright. Am I good to go?”

A muffled, “Yeah” was all the confirmation he needed. The best strategy to incrementally figure out the hardening temperature is to work in short blasts. Izuku didn’t have control over flame temperatures yet, so he’d have to rely on the power and pressure of his flames to try and simulate a temperature increase. To start though, a short blast should suffice. 

Taking in a deep breath, Izuku focused the center of his palm on the top of the ‘line’ and began expelling a tight cone of flames. Sweeping his hand downward, he made sure to hit every part of the substance. He was careful to use the bare minimum amount of power, trying to establish a baseline temperature for his flames. 

The booth’s vents kicked louder, hauling the heat up and away. The surface of the rod skinned over to a dull sheen, then brightened to a deeper, almost glassy luster. He cut the flame.

“Again,” Ragdoll said. “Rotate the tray a hair.”

He nudged, fired. The shine spread. But he could see the trouble: where his flame hit straight on, the stick gleamed and stiffened; the shadowed underside stayed dull and soft, slumping into the tray below. He tried to compensate, angling the stream, but his control wobbled—hot here, cooler there—patchwork heating stitched across the surface.

“Enough,” Ragdoll said. Immediately, the flames died out in the kiln, leaving just the matte black rod, which was a half and half mix of solid and liquid. “Give it ten seconds.” 

Izuku nodded, “Should I just reach in and grab it?”

“No. I’ll grab it with tongs, that way its structure won't be messed up.” Sliding past him, Ragdoll held a large set of metal tongs. She peered into the kiln, taking in the material, “Just from the looks of it, I don’t think that was hot enough.” Reaching in, she gently picked up the semi hardened substance. It was flat on one side, a side effect of being laid flat on the plate. Its edges were jagged and the width fluctuated with where the liquid had pooled. Hardly deserved the title of a stick.

“Well, I don’t think you accomplished that stick you wanted.”

“You think?”

Laying it down on a nearby metal table, Ragdoll inspected it. It definitely wasn’t hardened completely. Some pieces were solid, but others were still like sludge. “It almost looks like a noodle.”

Izuku laughed, “If the noodles you eat look like that, I don’t know how you’re still alive.”

“Fair enough.” She took a look back at Izuku, “Your flames seemed to hold relatively stable at 1083 degrees Celsius. That’s incredibly hot. Makes me glad the kiln held up.”

“Awesome. I anticipated my base flames to fall somewhere in that range. My handwavy math had always put it in the ballpark of 900 to 1100 degrees. Nice to know what the exact temperature is now.”

Walking over to the table where the substance was cooling, Izuku couldn’t help but see a small resemblance in the curve of the material to that of a noodle. One thick noodle though. He glanced at Ragdoll who was staring at it intently, her eyes zoning in and out. She must be using her quirk on it. “See anything?”

She sighed, “Nope. I usually can’t use my quirk on quirk byproducts anyways, but it’s worth a shot. Anyways, you should be able to touch it now since you don’t feel heat.”

Nodding, Izuku gently reached down and picked up the material. It was surprisingly coarse. As his thumb dragged across the surface, it caught on faint ridges, irregular striations that hinted at how unevenly it had cooled. It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t uniform. It felt brittle, almost fragile.

Taking a breath, Izuku placed his hands at either end and pressed, bending slowly. At first there was resistance—stubborn, stiff, like it might hold. Then, with a sharp crack , the piece snapped cleanly in the middle.

Izuku blinked as the halves sagged slightly in his hands, revealing the truth inside: the core hadn’t hardened at all. A glossy, gelatinous substance glistened in the fracture, sticky and soft, like half-cooked sugar. A faint wisp of heat still clung to it, and when he touched the edge with his thumb, it dented easily, smearing against his skin.

“So much for that”

Peering over his shoulder, Ragdoll chimed in, “It’s a good start. At least we know we’re on the right track.” She took a few steps back from Izuku, “Alright, well let’s run it again. We’ve got until dinner to test this out.”

Izuku’s thoughts were scrambled by a deep resonating rumble in his stomach. Running his hand through his hair, he let out a deep sigh. He had lost count of how many times he’d fumbled the shaping, how many times he’d unevenly heated the material, or how many half melted lumps he’d procured. His fingertips throbbed. Never before had he been forced to use so much of this part of his quirk. The longer they kept at it the more concentration it took to draw the liquid out. And now, after several hours of testing, he was just about empty. 

Ragdoll wasn’t fairing much better. After so many rounds of testing, the room had been thoroughly heated. She was doubled over the fabrics table, staring at one of the past failures. Even from across the room, Izuku could see the beads of sweat covering her face. He felt bad, but at the same time, knew that he wouldn’t be able to rest until he got some sort of success. 

He glanced to the kiln beneath him and then back to Ragdoll. Grimacing, he made up his mind. He couldn’t keep her here. And more than that, he wasn’t sure the machinery in the room was capable of withstanding the rising temperatures. For the safety of everyone, he really needed to call it a day. He glanced down at his hand, counting the pulses in his fingertips as each second past. “Hey Ragdoll?”

A muffled “Mhm?”

“I think this has to be my last one. I don’t know how much more of my quirk I can get out.”

She looked up. Her eyes were tired and her hair frizzy. Clearly the heat had not been kind to her. “That’s a fantastic idea, Midoriya. I’m sure dinner is just about ready too.”

He nodded. Crouching down next to the kiln, he laid out everything he had learned in the past hour. His base flames were roughly 1000 degrees Celsius. The substance began to harden at 1240 degrees, but really didn’t harden all the way through until thoroughly heated at roughly 1750 degrees for about thirty seconds. And in order for the material to come out smooth, he would have to rotate his hand around the substance, hitting it from every angle. The real problem was how he was placing the substance and not being able to control the material as he applied heat. Earlier, he had asked Ragdoll if they could just create a mold to put all his substance in and then superheat that. In theory, it would work, but they didn’t have the materials to create a mold sturdy and heat resistant enough to withstand the temperatures he’d be putting it through. She told him that they could get one done pretty soon, but they would have to contact their gear manufacturer for it. So that left doing it the hard way. 

In a way, it was probably better without a mold. If Izuku really wanted to use this aspect of his quirk in battle, he wouldn’t have any tools or molds. He’d just have himself.

Himself.

He’d only have himself. Standing up straight, Izuku stared at the kiln as a fresh rush of ideas filled his head. In the field, there’s no kiln. There’s nothing to aid him. If he wanted this to work, he would have to make it happen without assistance. So what tools does he have by himself that can make this work?

Immediately, his mind cut to the night after his meltdown on the cliffside. He’d had the hardened shell stuck to his arms, but how exactly had the substance shaped itself to encompass his arms? If the only thing that could detach it was his telekinesis, then it would be reasonable to argue that the telekinesis was the only thing that could wrap it around his arms. That had to be it. So far he’d just been relying on gravity and the steadiness of his hand to lay the substance out. If he could somehow shape it mentally and then heat it, then it should turn out a little better. 

Turning back to where Ragdoll sat, half dead, Izuku shared his idea, “Hey Ragdoll. I’m gonna try controlling the substance mentally to see if that helps with the shaping.”

All he got was a weak thumbs up. 

Now the mechanics of how to get this to work. Fingertips and nub. Those were the only places he could actually secrete the liquid from. Fingers were the obvious pick, but perhaps he was overlooking the usefulness of his right arm. If he suspended his left hand in the air and let the substance fall with gravity, he could try to manipulate the substance so that it didn’t puddle on the tray of the kiln, but rather hang from his hand. He could heat the material from above with his palm while heating the sides with his right arm, continually rotating it for even heat dispersal. 

That all worked in theory, but now he had to actually make it work, which would be a tall order. The whole telekinesis power he had was elusive. Sometimes he could get it to work, and other times he just looked like a maniac. Izuku’s best guess is that the telekinesis was incredibly weak, even weaker than his mom’s and was inherently linked to some internal condition that he just didn’t know yet. He’d have to call his mom and ask at some point. 

Snapping out of his thoughts, Izuku leaned over the kiln, outstretching his hand. ‘ It’s now or never, I guess. ’

Shutting his eyes tightly, he willed his substance to slowly flow through his fingertips, while also maintaining a concrete three dimensional mental image of the substance shaping into a cylinder. A full cylinder was a bit more stable than the stick idea he had previously. Counting in his head the seconds passing by, he readied his right arm in the kiln, angled into the curved sides of the material

As soon as his mental image of the rod became fully fleshed out, he willed the wild green flames inside of him to shoot out. Instead of a burst like he had tried previously, this was a steady, powerful stream of as hot of a flame as he could manage. Simultaneously preserving the mental image and rotating his arm to scorch every piece of the rod, a small bead of sweat fell from his forehead. 

Forcing himself to focus and keep the flames even for an entire minute for good measure was a larger struggle than he had anticipated, but when he finally allowed himself to open his eyes, he was ecstatic. The substance had formed a crude cylinder, rough around the edges and uneven in thickness, but unmistakably closer to what he’d been aiming for. An actual shape instead of the random blotches he’d created prior. The ridges running along its length caught the light like poorly sanded wood, jagged in places, but solid all the way through. 

The substance had five thin strings of hardened material attached to each one of his fingertips. He hadn’t imagined that in his mindscape, but he figured it would make more sense than simply having the substance levitate. 

Snapping his head back to Ragdoll, he wanted to see if she saw the final product. All he saw was her green hair in a mess slumped against the table. Was she even awake? “Ragdoll! I got it! Well, not really, but this is so much better than anything else I’ve tried! It’s an actual three dimensional shape!”

That got her attention. Her head tilted up so quickly, Izuku wondered how her neck didn’t snap. Within an instant, she had left her stool at the table behind and closed the gap between them, “Really? Let me see.”

Izuku’s hand was still hovering over the top of the kiln, too afraid to move it anywhere else, he nodded his head toward it. Ragdoll leaned in, chuckling, “Nicely done Midoriya. That was a smart move to use your quirk to shape your quirk.” She shook her head, “That didn’t make sense, but you know what I meant.”

Izuku just nodded excitedly. She continued, “It seems to be holding. The density looks to be off still, but it hasn’t broken yet which is a good sign. Give it a little bit more time to cool and then let's test it out.”

“Got it.”

“So how’d you make it hold its shape exactly?”

“I held my hand out upside down and let gravity guide the substance downward and then in my head I imagined it forming into a cylinder from the bottom up, like a 3D printer. I continued to imagine it like that as I heated it with my right arm, making sure to hit every angle. I blasted it for about a minute to make sure it would harden in the core as well.”

“Good thinking. It’s like how you got it off of you two months ago.”

“Exactly.” 

She flashed him a mischievous smile, “It only took you like twenty tries.”

“Eighteen.”

Ragdoll rolled her eyes, “Whatever. The others will be excited to hear about this, though. Aren’t you excited?”

He shook his head, “Of course I am. I just wish I had this idea two hours ago.”

Ragdoll reached up and smoothed out her hair, “You and I both. Now c’mon, I’m sure it’s been long enough. Test it out.”

Izuku set his hand down on the metal table, the crude rod still tethered to his fingers by five thin strands of hardened residue. He pressed his stump against them, bracing for resistance. Snap. Each line gave way with a brittle crack until the cylinder came free, clattering softly against the tabletop. He shook off the last flecks clinging to his skin and lifted the shape with both hands.

The surface was rough, uneven, grains of grit breaking away beneath his thumb, but the core stayed intact. Solid. Izuku tightened his grip and gave it a few experimental swings through the air. The weight was awkward, unbalanced, but undeniably real. A grin tugged at his lips.

“…It feels solid,” he said, almost in awe. “I think this actually works.”

Bringing the rod down, he smacked it against the edge of the table, testing its durability. A couple of flakes flew off at the contact point, but it otherwise held strong. Ragdoll commented, “You know, it kinda looks like a baton.”

“A baton?”

“Yeah, like, the weapon cops have. Well, technically they have something more similar to clubs, but still.”

That got Izuku’s brain rolling again. If he could perfect this process, then a baton could be an excellent weapon to add to his arsenal. His eyes lit up as he turned to Ragdoll, “Do you think that if I can get this to work reliably, then I can use a baton as a weapon? Think about it, I’d be able to create my own weaponry on the fly? How versatile is that?”

She raised an eyebrow, “More versatile than fire?”

He rolled his eyes, “A baton wouldn’t burn someone to ash if I hit them too hard. So yeah, I think it’d be more practical at least. Isn’t that why you guys are teaching me non quirked combat skills in the first place? I can’t just use my quirk on normal people.”

Ragdoll nodded, “I suppose. Why don’t we ask the others about it during dinner?”

Izuku immediately set down the rod and turned towards the door, “Fantastic idea. I’m absolutely starving.” 

Ragdoll laughed, “After all that, you’re just dropping this thing like it’s nothing?”

Izuku’s voice echoed from down the hallway, “It is nothing compared to food.”

There were a lot of ways Izuku imagined he could meet his end. Perhaps it would be while he’s working as a pro hero —  a criminal getting the best of him. Maybe his quirk would do him in — the next explosion taking more than just his hand. If he’s lucky, maybe he’d die of natural causes in his old age. 

He hadn’t anticipated online middle school would be the final blow. Sitting cross legged on the floor of his room, Izuku had notebooks fanned out around him like the aftermath of a storm. His laptop glowed faintly in the dim room, displaying half solved math problems waiting to be completed. Solving for x wasn’t all that hard. If he was honest with himself, this level of complexity was beneath him. But all that meant was a lack of motivation to actually solve them. No matter how hard he tried to rationalize it, these types of problems just felt meaningless and not worth his time. 

Instead, he’d found himself doodling harsh silhouettes of a baton. The line work was rough, but he liked to imagine he did it that way on purpose. To really display the coarseness of the material. 

He sighed after making another squiggly stroke of the pencil. It was frustrating and demoralizing. Izuku wouldn’t claim himself to be a fantastic artist, but he did pride himself on his ability to perform rough sketches of his ideas. Practically half of his hero notebooks were just illustrations of the different concepts he was trying to convey. So to go from that and regress to the skill level of a toddler was disappointing to say the least. 

His handwriting had improved. It wasn’t great. Nowhere near. It was, however, legible, and that by itself was a big win. Izuku supposed that since he was now forced to perform every action with his left hand, that with time, he gained some hard-earned dexterity with it. And being able to write again was a game changer. All of his experiences could once again be jotted down in his notebooks. He wanted to be meticulous in his recording of the lessons the WWPC gave him. So many people would kill for an opportunity like he has now and he was determined to take full advantage of the time he has. 

As for the homework problems… Well, online junior high wasn’t exactly hard. The content was manageable, but it was the rhythm that threw him off. His body was being hammered by Tiger’s drills and Pixie Bob’s quirk conditioning while his brain was being occupied with Mandalay’s demonstrations and Ragdoll’s quirk theory. So to finish up that and then become bombarded with senseless math problems or quizzes on English grammar was disheartening. The contrast between his responsibilities gnawed at him day in and day out.

His therapist had called it “dissonance.” Recalling a video call he’d had with her a couple weeks ago, she had asked him in her perfectly measured tone what he thought would happen if he simply took a short break and did things at a slower pace. At the time, he’d thought it to be ridiculous. He had a once in a lifetime opportunity to work with four pro heroes. Wasting a single second would be doing himself a massive disservice. Izuku had shrugged off her suggestion, but now he was taking a closer examination of her words. She’d mentioned multiple times that session how progress didn’t happen in a straight line. That every victory had to also come with its fair share of shortfalls. Sometimes things work out perfectly and progress happens quickly. Sometimes there’s too many hardships to handle and progress regresses. “That’s just how it is.” She’d said. 

Honestly, those meetings always rubbed him the wrong way and he had to constantly remind himself that it was her job to help him and that it was his punishment to attend the meetings. The way she modulated her speech cadences bothered him because more often than not, it would almost sound like she was talking to a child. So for her words to resonate in his head now was only adding fuel to the flames. 

Sure, progress isn’t linear. He’s not stupid. Not everything has to work the first time, but admitting that it’s ok to let things fall through the cracks because “It’s ok for things to not work out!” is doing nobody any good. Insurmountable setbacks is one thing, but actively giving yourself a break during a once in a lifetime opportunity is a blatant waste of resources. If he hadn’t pressed the others to increase the intensity of his lessons and for him to be taken seriously, there is no way he’d have made nearly as much progress as he’s had up till now. Facing struggles is ok. Becoming complacent isn’t. Complacency is where growth goes to die.

His left hand itched. He brushed his fingertips against his knee, imagining the thin strings of the substance still clinging there; his mind already pulled away from his therapist’s words. That rod he’d been able to create wasn’t fantastic. By all measures it was ugly and jagged. But it was something and it was solid. He kept circling back to theories: what if the substance could be layered, folded over itself like tempered steel? What if he could learn to control his flames’ temperatures so that he could create heat gradients — higher heat for rigidness, lower ones for flexibility?

Izuku shook his head hard. Stop. The deadline for this assignment was quickly approaching. He needed to stop getting his thoughts derailed. 

His gaze fixed back on the math problem. It was a simple geometric problem, trying to find the dimensions of a walkway that loops around a garden. The entire process of solving it was more monotonous than anything else. 

The half finished sketch once again caught his attention, his thoughts diving even further away from the quadratic formula. He thought of Aldera Junior High and his life before losing his arm. He thought of Katsuki and how, inevitably, they’d be forced to meet again, one way or another. 

A pit in Izuku’s stomach formed as he thought about it. Whenever Katsuki crossed his mind, he couldn’t help but remind himself of how if he’d just minded his own damn business, he’d still have two arms. Sure, he’d never had gotten this chance to train with pros, but he’d be able to at least attempt to make it into UA on his own merit. While he still wasn’t completely certain, Izuku firmly believed that if UA bothered to send one of the first year homeroom teachers to visit him in the hospital and then support him with the resources from the WWPC, then he was pretty much guaranteed a seat. As long as he didn’t royally fuck it up. 

Part of him hated it. He knew that he should be grateful, but at the same time it felt all too… easy . Like he wasn’t actually deserving of it. If he didn’t have all these connections, would he have been worthy of a spot at UA? If he ends up meeting Katsuki again at UA, then Katsuki would have proven himself worthy without any handouts. He’d be, by definition, better than him. 

He let himself fall backwards onto the carpet, his focus now intently on the overhead light. In middle school, Katsuki had always been his superior when it came to strength. Izuku never cared to ask, but Katsuki had to have been strength training on his own and developing his own fighting style way before Izuku ever even manifested his quirk. That kind of head start was no joke. All the times he’d actually come out victorious in a fight was largely due to creativity or Katsuki making a mistake. There was no way to verify if in a completely fair fight, he could even hold a candle to where Katsuki was right now. 

Physically, Izuku could feel a difference in himself. His shoulders carried more weight, muscle layering in places that were once only bones and anxiety. His legs no longer buckled under Tiger’s drills as quickly. The strict diet that had been administered to him fueled him with more nutrients than he’d probably ever had in his life. He loved his mom and her homemade cooking, but she was a single mother and although she was never willing to speak on finances, there were signs every now and again. She was doing her best, and that meant the world, but that didn’t mean he could always have the best nutrition. 

Not only was he progressing with putting on muscle, but for the first time in a while, his height actually increased significantly. Over just the last two months, he’d sprouted up three and half inches. His face had thinned out just slightly as well. He still looked ridiculous with his short, spiky hair, but by the time the UA entrance exams rolled around, he’d have his normal length back if he wanted it.

The entrance exams… that was another frequent topic rolling around in his head. Frankly, Izuku had no idea what to expect. He’d taken a lot of time to search online for any morsel of information on how it worked, but the best he could find were nondescript headlines that talked about the event. Allegedly it was split up into two sections: a written exam and a practical one. The written exam wasn’t that hard to gauge. It likely covered the basics of every topic that had been taught in middle school. The only curveball there is if it also implements problems on hero work, which was a total possibility. The big ticket item though was the practical. It seemingly changed every year so no concrete information could be derived from it. On one forum he’d found, they had mentioned the use of robots, but the poster hadn’t bothered to go more in depth on what the robots’ roles were. 

The entire thing was just one big storm cloud that loomed on the horizon. Izuku wondered about what kinds of students would even get accepted. There are only forty seats available. Four are reserved for recommendation students, so really there's thirty six seats available with thousands of applicants. Not everyone who applies would even get the opportunity to display their skills in the practical exam, though. 

According to another article online, UA sorts through their large applicant pool and filters it down to only a few hundred students who they deem “qualified.” There is definitely a lot of gray zone there for shady business, but from what the article had said, it was mostly filtered based on grades and quirk type. Sure, that kind of process was sketchy since the exact criteria for the cuts aren’t officially published, but it made sense. UA, as big as it is, does not have the resources to test literally thousands of students. 

One comment on that article claimed that those who are cut before the practical exam are referred to the other UA departments’ exam procedures. Overall, however, that meant that every single person fighting for a spot in the hero course was at minimum stellar students with decent quirks. And out of that pool, those thirty six students who get accepted are the absolute top of the class. The thought frightened him. 

He pictured himself in the halls of UA. Would any of the other students even pay him any mind? Would they pick him apart like the ones at Aldera did? If he tried to explain his half baked theories or express his perspective on hero society, would anyone even care? Since the other students were also dedicated to becoming heroes, then there was at least a chance they’d show some interest. 

There would be no way of knowing until he got there…. If he gets there. His brow furrowed before he spoke to himself softly, “When I get there.”

A picture of his dad flashed in his mind. His mouth wide open, mid laugh, hunched over the dining table at the old house. He had just come back home from work to walk in on Izuku drawing All Might on the wall. 

The edges of Izuku’s mouth twinged downward. That moment had been immortalized in a photograph in a frame that hung in the hallway back home. Apparently his mother had been waiting for Hisashi to walk in, waiting for his reaction. 

Tears blurred Izuku’s vision as he felt his chest and throat constrict with emotion. It had been so long since his dad had passed. He’d give anything to have just one more conversation with him. 

Sitting up straight again, Izuku wiped his eyes fiercely before staring at the now black screened laptop. Hisashi Midoriya’s final wish for him echoed in his brain, rattling him to his core: “ Izuku. You have to be strong. I need you to be strong like All Might. I need you to be my hero. I need you to be Mom’s hero. Can you be the hero I know you can be?”

More tears streamed down his face as he replayed his father’s last words to him over and over in his mind, “Izuku, can you be my hero?”

And now it was all within reach. Tantalizingly close.

Through blurry vision, Izuku eyed the scattered notebooks around him and the unfinished homework. For as close as he was to making that wish come true, he’d never reach it if he failed middle school. 

Picking up the notebook again and swiping the laptop’s cursor back and forth he whispered to himself, reaffirming the promise he’d made so many years ago, “I’ll keep Mom safe, Dad. And I’ll become the hero you’ve always believed I could be. Ju-,” He paused as the words died in his throat, “Just continue to look down on me and mom. I promise I’ll make you proud.”