Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The city of Queens hummed with the low, ever-present thrum of city life; the distant wail of sirens, the blaring of car horns, and the soft, ever-constant buzz of conversation from the crowded sidewalks below. Neon lights flickered on as the sun dipped behind the skyline, casting long shadows across the crisscrossing alleys. High above it all, perched precariously on the edge of a weather-worn rooftop, sat Izuku Midoriya.

His breath came in shallow, steady puffs as he adjusted his grip on the fraying edge of the rooftop. The mask a sleek, green, and marked with large, expressive white eye-lenses lay crumpled in his lap. He ran a hand through his unruly green hair, gaze fixed on the people below. Normal, everyday people going about their normal, everyday lives. Lives that had nothing to do with spider bites, genetic anomalies, or the weight of responsibility crushing down on his shoulders.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Izuku muttered under his breath, lips curling into a wry smile. He read those words in a book years back, but now they felt like the most personal truth he’d ever known. Power wasn’t supposed to feel like this; like a tether pulling him in every direction at once. It wasn’t supposed to feel this lonely.

He flexed his fingers, watching them curl into a fist. The faint ache in his palm was a constant reminder of the spider that had sunk its fangs into his skin six months ago. At first, he’d been terrified ; the fever, the hallucinations, the strange tingling beneath his skin. But the fear hadn’t lasted. It had been replaced by something far more confusing: discovery. The walls of his room had become a playground for his newfound abilities, his ceiling a place of solace when the world below felt too big. He’d practiced in secret, hidden from even his mother. It wasn’t until that day in the alley. That one, terrible day, that he’d realized practice wasn’t enough.

The sound of a police siren blaring in the distance pulled him from his thoughts. His eyes snapped to the source, pinpointing the flashing blue-and-red lights weaving through traffic below. A rush of adrenaline surged through him, a sensation he’d never quite gotten used to. His heart pounded in his chest as he yanked the mask over his face, the world narrowing to the crisp clarity of his spider’s sense. The air smelled sharp with the promise of rain, and the distant rumble of thunder echoed across the skyline.

“Time to move,” he breathed, and in one smooth motion, he launched himself off the rooftop.

The world tilted, the ground rushing up to meet him, but Izuku felt no fear. The wind howled past his ears, a wild, untamed symphony. With a flick of his wrist, the familiar thwip of a webline shot through the air, latching onto the side of a nearby building. His body swung wide, momentum carrying him forward in a perfect arc. For a moment, he was weightless, suspended between the pull of gravity and the forward thrust of his swing. It was a freedom he’d never known before. Not on the ground, not in his quiet, ordinary life as Izuku Midoriya.

But here.. Here, he was something more.

The web released, and he fired another in quick succession, each movement precise, practiced, perfect. Streetlights blurred beneath him, streaks of gold and white cutting through the dim twilight. His thoughts were sharp, focused, every instinct attuned to the world around him. Somewhere down there, someone needed help. He could feel it in the back of his mind like the faint tremor of a plucked string.

As he swung closer to the flashing lights, he caught sight of them: two figures in black hoodies sprinting down a narrow alley, clutching bags stuffed with cash. Behind them, an out-of-breath police officer struggled to keep up, his shouts barely audible over the city’s din. Izuku’s eyes narrowed behind the mask, his jaw tightening.

“Not today,” he muttered, angling his swing to intercept them.

He released his webline at the peak of his arc, twisting his body midair. The exhilaration hit him like a rush of cold water, his heart thundering in his chest. He’d never get used to it, the way the world seemed to slow in that split-second freefall. His outstretched hand shot a line to the wall ahead, and he pulled himself forward with a snap, flipping once, twice, before landing on the alley wall in a crouch. His hands and feet clung to the brick like it was second nature, his head tilting to track the two fleeing figures below.

They didn’t even see him until it was too late.

“Hey, guys,” he called out, his voice muffled by the mask but no less sharp with confidence. “Did you forget it’s rude to steal?”

Both men skidded to a stop, eyes snapping upward to find him perched on the wall like some nightmarish gargoyle. One of them cursed under his breath, yanking a crowbar from his bag.

“You think you’re tough, huh?!” the man barked, his hands shaking more than he’d probably like to admit.

Izuku’s only response was to drop from the wall, landing in a crouch between them. Slowly, deliberately, he rose to his full height, rolling his shoulders like he’d seen All Might do on TV when he was a kid. The two men glanced at each other, weighing their options. They chose poorly.

The first swung the crowbar wide, telegraphing his attack. Izuku’s spider-sense flared, and he ducked low, his hand shooting up to catch the man’s wrist. His grip was ironclad, fingers like a vice. He spun, using the momentum to hurl the man into a stack of crates, the wood splintering under the impact. Before the second man could react, Izuku shot a webline at his foot, yanking him off balance. The man hit the pavement with a grunt, only for Izuku to pin him with a well-placed foot on his back.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” Izuku said, breathing hard but steady. “Next time, stay home.”

He fired a web at the man’s hands, binding them together before turning to do the same to the other. The distant sound of approaching sirens echoed through the alley, and Izuku’s gaze flicked upward. His job was done. Time to go.

He leapt to the wall, his heart lighter than it had been all day. As he climbed, he glanced over his shoulder, watching the officer finally round the corner to find two neatly webbed-up criminals waiting for him. Izuku grinned behind the mask, the city lights reflecting in his lenses.

The city’s pulse carried on, steady and unyielding, as shadows swallowed him whole. Izuku swung building to building, looking for the next person to save.

Chapter Text

-6 Months Ago-

“Izuku, honey! Are you awake yet?” Inko Midoriya’s voice echoed warmly through the apartment.

“Yeah, I’m up!” Izuku called back, stepping out of his room while slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Have you seen my glasses anywhere? I’ve got an exam today and lost my contacts again.”

“Izuku, honey, you need to keep better track of your contacts. They’re not cheap to replace,” his mother chided as she approached him, glasses in hand. Her expression was a mix of fondness and mild exasperation.

“I know, Mom,” he sighed, taking the glasses and slipping them on. “I’ll do some extra tutoring to save up for a new pair, I promise.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “But I’ve really gotta go now. Love you!”

“Izuku,” she called after him.

“What?” He turned back, eyebrows furrowed in mild impatience. “I’m gonna be late!”

“Take a muffin with you or something, honey. I don’t want you going hungry,” she said, concern etched on her face.

Izuku’s shoulders relaxed as a small smile tugged at his lips. “Alright, alright.” He snatched a muffin from the counter. “Thanks, Mom. See you later!” He darted out the door, hoping to make it out before she found another reason to stall him.

The crisp morning air greeted him as he hurried toward the subway station, weaving through the familiar streets of Queens. His pace quickened. UA’s strict stance on punctuality wasn’t something he wanted to test, especially not on an exam day.

As he descended the stairs to the subway, his gaze locked onto a figure moving in the same direction—Katsuki Bakugo. His former best friend. Or ex-best friend, really. The blonde strode with his usual confident swagger, headphones firmly in place, music undoubtedly blaring loud enough to drown out the world. Izuku’s heart jumped in his chest. He quickened his pace, slipping into the train and moving to the far end of the car, as far from Katsuki as possible.

He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

They used to be close. As kids, they’d been inseparable. But something had changed. By the time middle school rolled around, Katsuki’s temper had grown shorter, his words sharper. What started as teasing and mild bullying escalated into full-on bullying—not just insults but shoves, punches, and public humiliation. The isolation stung more than the bruises. Teachers looked the other way, and classmates followed Katsuki’s lead. It was hell.

High school brought a shift, though. The physical altercations stopped when they entered UA two years ago. Maybe Katsuki matured, maybe he just didn’t have the time or energy to bother with him anymore. The taunts remained, but they were fewer, not as intense. Still, the tension lingered like static in the air whenever they crossed paths.

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t just a bully. He was a star. Captain of the basketball team whenever he decided he felt like playing that season. People saw the potential, the athletic prowess, the fire in his eyes. What most of them missed—or chose to ignore—was that he was brilliant, too. Top of nearly every class. Second only to Izuku himself.

Izuku’s life was different. No sports teams. No crowds of adoring fans. He’d found solace in photography. There was something captivating about freezing a moment in time, capturing the raw motion of athletes in action. He’d considered joining a team once—he’d put in the work, built himself up after middle school—but it never felt right. Watching from behind a camera suited him better. He’d rather frame the shot than be the one inside it.

But if there was one passion that had burned brighter than anything else in his life, it was superheroes. He’d been obsessed with them for as long as he could remember. Comics, action figures, news reports—if it had a superhero on it, he was there. None more so than New York’s most legendary hero, All Might. The Symbol of Peace. His symbol of hope.

He was a complete fanboy, especially when it came to New York's most famous hero, All Might.

All Might was born and raised in Japan, but eventually moved his operations to New York. (Izuku cried when he found out All Might lived in the same state as him.)

For as long as he could remember, All Might had been his hero, a symbol of unwavering strength and justice.

Izuku’s first encounter with All Might happened shortly after he moved to NYC, and it was unforgettable—for all the wrong reasons. The moment he laid eyes on the towering hero in person, his heart pounded like a drum, his breath hitched, and his vision blurred. The next thing he knew, everything went black. He’d passed out.

His classmates never let him live it down. "You really fainted in front of All Might? Of all people?!" they’d tease, the memory of it becoming a favorite topic of mockery. Izuku tried to brush it off, pretending it didn’t bother him, but inside, he cringed every time it came up. As if meeting All Might wasn’t already nerve-wracking enough.

All Might wasn’t just any hero—he was one of the greatest heroes in the world, standing shoulder to shoulder with legends like the Avengers. The world’s mightiest heroes. People like Captain America, Thor, and Iron Man. The mere thought of being on that level filled Izuku with awe. He’d dreamt about becoming a hero himself, but there was one problem: he had no powers or special abilities to call his own. He was just smart—not "Tony Stark" smart, but smart enough to dream big.

He’d considered the idea of becoming like Batman. No powers, just pure intellect and strategy. But Batman had something Izuku didn’t: an endless supply of money. Without that, it was a pipe dream. So, he set his sights on something more practical. If he couldn’t be a hero himself, he’d work to support them. Oscorp seemed like a good place to start—they had resources, cutting-edge tech, and a reputation for innovation. Sure, working for Tony Stark himself would be the ultimate dream, but that was about as likely as winning the lottery. Some dreams were just too far out of reach.

Izuku sighed as he stepped off the train, adjusting his bag on his shoulder as he made his way toward UA High School. It was going to be a busy day. As a senior, his schedule was packed with exams, college prep, and endless assignments. It was stressful, sure, but Izuku didn’t mind. He’d always loved school. It gave him the chance to expand his knowledge, collaborate with others on inventions, and build his skills. Every project was a chance to get better.

His love of learning wasn’t random—he’d always believed his intelligence came from his father, Hisashi Midoriya, a brilliant scientist. A few years back, Hisashi’s name had been well-known in scientific circles, especially in the field of genetic research. But those days were long gone. His father had passed away when Izuku was still a child, and his mother rarely spoke about him. It wasn’t that she didn’t care—it’s just that it hurt too much. Izuku never blamed her for that.

But on the rare occasions she did talk about Hisashi, Izuku soaked in every word. He committed every story, every fact, and every small detail to memory. His own memories of his father were faint and fragmented, like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit together. One memory, however, stood out in perfect clarity. He’d been playing hide-and-seek with his father. He’d crept into his father’s office, giggling quietly, only to find the place in disarray. Papers scattered everywhere. Broken glass on the floor. His father’s desk overturned.

His father died not long after that.

The details were blurry, and no one ever told him much about what happened. That’s why Izuku had started doing his own research into his father's work. He’d dug through old articles, research papers, and obscure forums looking for any trace of Hisashi’s contributions. What he found fascinated him. His father’s primary focus had been genetics, a field that Izuku himself had come to love. There was something about the potential to reshape life—to solve diseases, to alter traits—that lit a fire inside him.

He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts as he walked through the front gates of UA High School, letting the cool morning air fill his lungs. His heart pounded with a mix of nerves and excitement. Another day, another chance to get closer to his dreams. He had no idea what awaited him inside, but he’d be ready for it.



—-



“Are you guys coming to Kiri’s party this weekend?” Ochako asked, glancing around at her small friend group, her eyes full of curiosity.

“Sero invited me,” Shoto replied with a shrug, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’ll probably go... if I’m allowed out of the house.”

“Your dad being a dick again?” Ochako asked, her tone softening with concern.

"Yeah," Shoto muttered, his eyes shifting to the ground as if the weight of it all was too much to carry. "Touya stopped by to grab something — I don’t even know what — but, of course, it didn’t end there. He and my dad started arguing, and it got bad. Real bad. They were yelling so loud you could hear it from the gardens outside." He sighed, releasing some tension in his shoulders. "Now he’s in a mood, and, like always, we’re the ones stuck dealing with it."

“Your dad’s a total buzzkill,” Ochako said bluntly, wrinkling her nose as she pulled out her phone. “Like, seriously, does he ever chill?”

“Not in this lifetime,” Shoto muttered, rolling his eyes.

“What about you, Deku?” Ochako asked, tapping at her screen before glancing up. “You coming?”

He shook his head, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. “Nah. Kacchan’s going, so… probably not the best idea if I show up too.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “Besides, my mom needs help at the apartment. The pipes broke in the basement, so it’s flooded again.”

“Again?” Ochako’s eyes widened. “Didn’t that just happen, like, last month?”

“Yup,” Deku groaned, shoulders sagging. “Landlord still hasn’t fixed it properly, so now it’s our problem.”

“Make sure to wear a mask and gloves! Proper safety gear is essential when dealing with contaminated water!” Iida declared, chopping the air with his hand like he was giving a presentation. His expression was deadly serious, as if this were a life-or-death mission.

Deku blinked at him. “Uh… yeah, I know, Iida. Thanks.”

“Don’t take it lightly, Midoriya!” Iida continued, adjusting his glasses with a sharp glint of determination. “Floodwaters can contain all manner of bacteria and harmful substances. Proper protection is paramount!”

“Alright, Mr. PSA,” Ochako teased, hiding a grin behind her hand. “I’m pretty sure Deku’s got it covered.”

“I'm just being thorough,” Iida replied, unbothered. “Preparedness is never a waste of time!”

“Tell that to my father,” Shoto muttered under his breath.

The group went silent for a beat, and then Ochako snorted. It started small, like she was trying to hold it in, but then she burst out laughing. Deku covered his mouth, trying not to laugh too loudly, while Iida fought the smile creeping up his face. Even Shoto let out a quiet breath of amusement.

“Okay, that was a good one,” Ochako admitted, still snickering. “I didn’t think you had jokes, Todoroki.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Shoto deadpanned, his face as stoic as ever.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how many ‘surprises’ you have when Kiri drags you into the middle of a dance circle,” Ochako teased, grinning at him.

Shoto’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That’s not happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” she shot back, locking eyes with him. “You think Kiri’s just gonna let you stand in the corner? Nah, he’s pulling you in. Just be ready.”

Shoto opened his mouth to argue but quickly realized he didn’t have a strong enough case. He shut it again with a quiet grunt of defeat.

“Don’t worry, Todoroki,” Iida assured him, clapping him on the back. “I’m certain you’ll perform admirably. All you need is rhythm and a bit of confidence!”

“I have neither,” Shoto muttered, and this time, Ochako didn’t bother hiding her laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll record it,” Ochako grinned mischievously, holding up her phone like she was already framing the shot. “I’m making memories, guys. We’ll all look back and laugh.”

“Not if I break your phone,” Shoto replied, deadpan.

“Not if I run like hell after,” Ochako shot back, eyes gleaming with challenge.

“She's got you there,” Deku mumbled, still chuckling under his breath.

"I hate that I have to beg for permission just to go somewhere," Shoto muttered, stirring his cold soba before taking a bite. "School's the only time I get any space from my family."

"Then maybe you should go to Kiri's party," Ochako said, bumping him lightly with her elbow. "Loosen up, have some fun. Forget about your dad for once. We’ll all be there, and if you’re worried about getting permission, sneak out, I’m pretty sure Sero’s got you covered."

Shoto didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed locked on a spot across the room, eyes narrowed in thought. For a second, it seemed like he might brush it off. But then, he let out a slow breath, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Maybe I will. If it makes my old man's life harder, an inconvenience on his perfect schedule. I’m so in.”



—-



Izuku pushed open the front door, kicking off his shoes with a sigh of relief. “Mom, I’m home!” he called out, his voice echoing softly through the apartment.

“Down here, honey!” his mother’s voice floated up from the basement. Moments later, she emerged from the doorway, her arms full of cardboard boxes. Her face was lined with frustration. “It’s bad, Zuku. The basement’s flooded again.”

Izuku’s shoulders slumped. “That bad?” he muttered, already rolling up the cuffs of his pants. “Alright, let me go check it out.”

“Be careful, Zuku! It’s super slippery!” she called after him, worry clear in her tone.

“I will!” he replied as he descended the stairs. The smell of damp concrete and musty air hit him first, followed by the sight of ankle-deep water covering the floor. His eyes widened. “Jeez, you weren’t kidding,” he muttered, stepping carefully to avoid slipping.

The leak wasn’t hard to spot. Water dripped steadily from a pipe along the far wall, creating ripples in the puddle below. Izuku crouched down, squinting as he examined the source. His brows furrowed as he traced the issue with his finger, feeling the cool metal of the pipe and the jagged edge of the crack.

“Dammit...” he muttered under his breath, wiping his hands on his pants.

“What is it?” his mother called from the top of the stairs. “Did you figure it out?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, tilting his head back to look up at her. “Looks like it’s the fill line. Must’ve gotten worn out over time.”

“Can you fix it today?” she asked, concern clear on her face.

“Probably not,” he admitted. “The hardware store’s probably closed by now. I’ll have to get the parts tomorrow.”

“That’s okay,” she said, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “While you’re down there, check if there’s anything worth saving, alright? Some of those boxes have important stuff in them.”

“Got it,” he replied, glancing around the waterlogged basement. He waded carefully to a cluster of boxes stacked in one corner, his hands working methodically as he shifted each one to see if the contents were salvageable. Most of them were already damp, the cardboard soggy and weak to the touch. He sighed, setting aside what little he could save.

As he reached for another box, something caught his eye from beneath the stairs. It was small and dark, just barely visible in the shadows. Curious, he leaned in closer and squinted.

“What’s that?” he muttered, stepping through the water with slow, deliberate movements. He crouched and reached out, fingers brushing against the cold, smooth metal handle. His heart skipped a beat.

A briefcase?

He pulled it out, brushing away the thin layer of dust and grime. The initials “H.M.” were engraved on the front in faded, silver lettering. His breath hitched. Those were his dad’s initials.

Izuku’s eyes flickered with confusion. “Why would Dad’s briefcase be down here?” he muttered to himself. He wiped it clean with his sleeve, his fingers lingering on the worn metal before he turned and hurried upstairs.

His mother was in the kitchen, sorting through a pile of ingredients on the counter. “Are you up for leftovers tonight, or should I make something new?” she asked, not looking up.

“Mom...” Izuku’s voice was low but firm.

She glanced over her shoulder and froze. Her eyes locked onto the briefcase in his hands, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Her expression shifted from surprise to something more complicated—nostalgia, maybe, or something deeper.

“I haven’t seen that in a very long time,” she murmured, walking toward him slowly. Her eyes stayed on the briefcase as if it might vanish if she looked away.

Izuku’s heart pounded in his chest. “Mom... w-why did he keep this?” His voice cracked, frustration seeping in. “There’s nothing important in here!” He opened it to reveal old, worn documents and trinkets that made no sense to him—a collection of meaningless clutter.

His breathing grew uneven. “Why would he keep this junk?” He shook his head, gripping the sides of the briefcase tightly. “It’s like every trace of him is either gone or makes no sense.” His voice wavered as he struggled to keep himself steady.

“Zuku,” his mother’s voice was soft but firm. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Your father was... a very secretive man. He always was. I stopped asking questions like that a long time ago.” She glanced at the briefcase, her eyes distant, lost in memories Izuku couldn’t see. “I’m sorry, honey. I don’t have any answers for you.”

Izuku’s grip on the briefcase loosened. He lowered it slowly, his eyes still locked on the contents inside. Papers, old notes, small gadgets that looked like pieces of something larger. He didn’t understand any of it. But one thing was clear—this was his father’s, and for some reason, it had been hidden away.

“I’m going to figure it out,” he muttered, his resolve hardening. He glanced up at his mother with eyes full of determination. “I’ll figure it out, Mom.”

She smiled sadly, brushing his hair back the way she used to when he was small. “I know you will, Zuku. You always do.”

Izuku pulled out a picture from the briefcase, his eyes narrowing as he examined it. His father stood next to another scientist, both smiling as if frozen in a moment of shared triumph. “Who is this, Mom?” he asked, his voice curious but edged with something deeper—a need to understand.

Inko’s body visibly tensed. Her eyes softened with sadness, and she let out a long, weary sigh. Her gaze met his, but she didn’t answer.

Izuku’s heart sank a little. He nodded in quiet understanding, taking the briefcase and heading to his room. Once inside, he locked the door behind him and set the briefcase on his bed. He opened it with a soft click, his eyes scanning its contents as he carefully removed each item, placing them on his bedspread.

“Why would you keep this?” he muttered to himself, brow furrowed. There was nothing extraordinary inside—old notes, a pair of glasses, an Oscorp ID badge. Ordinary objects. So why would his father keep it all? It didn’t add up.

He picked up the Oscorp ID badge, turning it over in his hands. His father’s face stared back at him, frozen in time with a wide, unburdened smile. Izuku’s chest tightened. He’d never seen his dad look that happy. His gaze shifted to the glasses case. Curious, he opened it and pulled out the sleek, simple frames.

“Might as well try them on,” he muttered. He stepped into the bathroom, removed his own glasses, and slid on his father’s. They weren’t much different from his, but something about them felt... right. Like they belonged to him as much as they had to his dad.

He walked back to his room, his mind still churning with questions. He sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes scanning the notes and papers from the briefcase, hoping something—anything—would stand out. He was so lost in thought that he nearly jumped at the soft knock on his door.

“Izuku, honey, can I come in?” his mother’s gentle voice called from the other side.

“Yeah,” he replied, getting up and unlocking the door. He hastily shoved some of the papers back into the briefcase, trying to tidy up.

Inko stepped inside, her gaze soft but weary. She sat down next to him on the bed, her hands resting on her lap. “The man in the picture is Curt Connors,” she said quietly, her eyes distant as if replaying an old memory. “He worked closely with your father at Oscorp. They were working on something big, but your father never told me what it was.” She let out another sigh, her fingers wringing nervously. “When your father passed away, Connors never reached out. He just... vanished. Stopped contacting us entirely. That’s all I know.”

Izuku’s eyes stayed on her, listening intently. “He worked with Dad?” he asked, his voice hushed with awe and confusion.

Inko nodded. “He did. But, Zuku, I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more, but that’s all I know.” Her voice trembled with regret.

Izuku’s lips curled into a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

She leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. “You know, you look like him wearing those,” she said with a tender smile, nodding toward the glasses on his face. Then she stood and walked toward the door, glancing back one last time before leaving.

Izuku stayed still for a moment, letting her words sink in. He reached up and touched the frame of the glasses, a small but significant gesture. He turned his attention back to the briefcase, his eyes sharp with renewed focus.

“If he was secretive,” Izuku muttered to himself, “there’s gotta be something else here.”

He picked up the briefcase and began inspecting it with a new sense of purpose. His fingers traced every seam, every fold, looking for something—anything—that might be hidden. He’d seen stuff like this in movies. Secret compartments, hidden messages. His fingers ran along the edge of the inner lining, and—click.

“Gotcha,” he whispered as a hidden zipper pocket revealed itself. He slid it open and pulled out a set of small, tightly bound files. His eyes widened as he flipped through them. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the words “00 DECAY RATE ALGORITHM” stamped on the front, bold and ominous. The file was marked CONFIDENTIAL in red ink.

“Decay rate algorithm?” he murmured, flipping through the documents. Diagrams, charts, and notes filled every page. One term kept jumping out at him: “Cross-Species Genetics.” His eyes darted from line to line, trying to piece it all together.

“Cross-species genetics...” he repeated, his heart pounding faster with every page he turned. This was something big. Way bigger than he’d expected.

He sat back on the floor, his mind racing. His father had been working on this. Curt Connors had been working on this. And now, somehow, it was in his hands.

“What were you working on, Dad?” he whispered, eyes locked on the confidential file as if it might answer him.

Izuku sat at his desk, eyes locked on the glow of his computer screen as his fingers flew across the keyboard. The search bar filled with two simple but significant words: "Curt Connors."

Dozens of articles popped up, each one painting a picture of a man driven by ambition and vision. Connors’ main goal was clear: to create a world where everyone could live on equal footing, a world where physical limitations no longer defined a person’s worth. His research into genetic modification had earned him acclaim, but it also raised questions—questions that Izuku couldn't ignore.

There was something off. The deeper Izuku read, the more certain he became. It wasn’t just the way every article seemed to highlight Connors’ noble intentions—it was the eerie absence of anything remotely critical. No mention of setbacks. No controversy. No doubt. It all felt too clean.. Too controlled. His gaze lingered on the name that kept surfacing alongside Connors’ work: Oscorp.

"They’re hiding something," Izuku muttered, his brows knitting together in concentration. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment before he continued typing, diving into forums, archived articles, and anything remotely connected to Connors and Oscorp. Bits and pieces came together like shards of glass forming a fractured reflection. Rumors of missing files, unexplained lab closures, and whispers of “classified research”.

It was probably a dumb idea to keep digging. He knew that. But logic and curiosity had never played well together in his mind. The questions wouldn’t stop buzzing in his head, each one louder than the last. And now that he’d started, there was no turning back. He’d already gone too far.

His chest felt tight, not from fear, but from the weight of certainty. Something big was buried beneath all this noise, and Izuku Midoriya had never been one to walk away from the unknown—not when he was this close.

Unbeknownst to him, those flickering tabs on his screen, those pieces of a puzzle he didn’t yet understand, were about to become the threads that unraveled his entire world. His quiet, predictable life was already slipping away. And soon, there’d be no going back.

Chapter Text

He was an idiot. Actually, he was downright stupid.

Was he seriously considering breaking into one of the most secure buildings in the city? Yes. Was there a real chance he'd end up in jail? Also yes…

Who was he kidding? It wasn't exactly "breaking in," since he wouldn't be shattering any windows or kicking down any doors.

Maybe he was just delusional… Yeah, that had to be it. Definitely delusional.

All he was doing was pretending to be someone else. Actually, that was even worse.

Yeah, let’s just commit fraud at the ripe age of 17. A teenager's dream, right?

He was definitely stupid.

Who did he think he was? What made him believe he could pull this off? Would it even be worth it? Was he really going to get a chance to talk to Connors?

The stakes were low, but the risks? They were high.

He wasn’t actually going to do it… Or was he? He needed to. This was the only way to get the information about his parents. It was the only way he'd finally learn the truth. Sad? Maybe. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, right?

Dammit, he had to focus. If he really was going to pull this off—if he was going to infiltrate Oscorp—he needed a clear head and a solid plan.

He was going to find out everything he could about Project 00 and how his father and Dr. Connors were connected to some top-secret cross-species genetics project.

He could do this… Totally. But first, he needed to get through school. That was the priority right now.

“Listen up, class. This is important, and I won’t be repeating myself.” The teacher’s voice cut through the room. “You’ll be doing a project on crafting a superhero.”

Izuku’s eyes lit up, though he had a sinking feeling about where this was going.

“I want you to create your own superhero. What powers would you have? What’s your potential? Your weaknesses? I want you to go into detail about how your powers or mutations would work. For example, the X-Men—Wolverine has metal claws that extend from his knuckles. That’s a mutation. Captain America, on the other hand, was part of a project by Howard Stark. And then there’s Thor, who was born with his abilities.”

The teacher continued, “I want you to design your own hero. Who are you? What type of hero will you be? What category would you fall under?”

Izuku hung on every word. What kind of hero would he be? He admired so many, (probably more than was healthy.) But hey, he was a fanboy, after all.

Izuku thought Thor’s abilities were awesome, but Doctor Strange was incredible at mastering his powers, and even the Hulk! Yes, he was destructive, but he was a key player in many battles.

Heroes came in all shapes and sizes, each one unique. What made someone a hero? Was it a superpower? Intelligence? Wealth? Who knew…

The world praised heroes like the Avengers and others around them, like All Might and his peers. All Might was different from the Avengers and the X-Men—he stood apart, much like Mirko or FatGum.

Heroes were what the world relied on, sometimes even more than the police. After all, there wasn’t much law enforcement could do when attackers came from other worlds. Like in 2012, when those creepy aliens poured out of a portal right above New York City…

Knowing all the heroes had done for ordinary people and the world, Izuku couldn’t help but wonder: What kind of hero would he be? Where would he fit in if another alien attack happened? How could he help? What could he offer?

“Oh, my fucking god, not again with the muttering, shitnerd!” Bakugo’s loud voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re gonna give me a damn migraine with that annoying nerd voice.”

Izuku frowned, “That’s mean, Kacchan.”

Bakugo just rolled his eyes, clearly fed up.

“Anyway,” the teacher interrupted. “This project can be a group effort, but each of you will still need to create your own hero!” he said with a smile. “The project is due by the end of the semester, so you’ve got three months to work on it. The reason for the long deadline is because I want you all to give it your best effort. Think about it—create your own world, your own universe! Be creative and have fun!”

The class immediately began shifting around, eager to discuss ideas with their friends.

“Three months, huh?” Izuku muttered, tapping his pencil against his notebook. His mind was already swirling with possibilities. A whole world? A universe? It felt like too much to take in all at once. He glanced around the classroom, watching his classmates pair up and buzz with excitement. Even Bakugo had a small group around him, though his scowl suggested he wasn’t thrilled about it.

Izuku, as usual, was on his own. Not that he minded—it gave him more space to think. What kind of hero could he be? Could he stand alongside giants like the Avengers? Or would he be someone who worked in the shadows, like Black Widow?

He quickly jotted down a few notes, his handwriting a messy jumble of ideas. Super strength? Too obvious. Flight? Maybe, but everyone picked that. Something unique—something that reflected him.

He paused, the pencil hovering over the page. What did reflect him? He didn’t have the confidence of Tony Stark, or Thor’s godlike assurance. He wasn’t a natural leader like Captain America. If anything, he felt more like Bruce Banner—awkward, overthinking, and always second-guessing himself.

Izuku’s thoughts were interrupted when Ochako leaned over, her smile warm and friendly. “Hey, Deku! Got any ideas yet? I think this project sounds fun, but I’m not sure where to start..” She said, rubbing the back of her neck.

Izuku blinked, startled by her sudden attention. “Oh, uh… kind of? I was just thinking about what kind of hero I’d want to be, but it’s hard to decide. There are so many possibilities.”

“I know, right?” Ochako laughed. “I was thinking about a gravity-based hero. Maybe someone who can manipulate weight? What about you?”

“Weight manipulation sounds amazing!” Izuku’s voice brightened, his excitement shining through. “You could save people from falling buildings or even stop a meteor from crashing into Earth! As for me, I’m not sure yet. Maybe something about adaptability… or strategy? I-I’m still figuring it out.”

“Classic Deku, always overthinking,” Bakugo grumbled from his desk, his voice dripping with annoyance. “Why don’t you just make yourself ‘Mutter Man’ and call it a day?”

Ochako rolled her eyes and shot Bakugo an annoyed look. “Piss off, Bakugo. At least he’s actually putting thought into it, instead of just picking explosions.”

Bakugo’s glare intensified. “Tch, whatever. Like this nerd’s hero would even be useful in a real fight.”

Izuku’s face flushed, and he tightened his grip on his pencil, looking away, embarrassed.

“Damn nerd,” Bakugo muttered, turning his attention elsewhere.

Izuku took a deep breath, trying to push Bakugo’s words aside. He flipped to a clean page in his notebook, determined not to let it bother him. He started sketching, his pencil moving across the paper. Maybe his hero wouldn’t have the flashiest powers, but they would have heart. They’d stand up for the little guy, no matter the odds.

As the classroom buzzed with excited chatter, a spark of determination flickered in Izuku’s chest. This wasn’t just another school project—it was an opportunity to create something meaningful. A chance to design a hero who could inspire others, just like All Might had inspired him.

Izuku left as soon as school ended, his steps quick and purposeful, clutching his backpack tightly.

There was no time for second-guessing.

The streets buzzed with the usual evening commotion—chatter, honking cars, the hum of city life—but Izuku barely registered any of it. His mind was racing, a whirlwind of excitement and fear. He was really doing this. He was about to walk into Oscorp, the pinnacle of scientific innovation, and hope against hope that he wouldn’t get caught.

As he neared the towering glass structure of Oscorp, his heartbeat quickened. The building loomed over him, an imposing figure of glass and steel, daring him to enter and prove himself—or daring him to see if he could sneak in and out unnoticed. Either way, there was no turning back.

Izuku swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag. With a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and stepped through the revolving doors, the cool blast of air conditioning jolting him like a wake-up call. The lobby was immaculate, humming with life—scientists in lab coats briskly walking by, executives in tailored suits discussing business, and security guards stationed near the elevators, their eyes scanning the crowd.

For a moment, he felt utterly out of place, like a fish out of water. But he quickly shook off the doubt. He had a plan. Well, sort of… The gist of it was to find a way in without raising suspicion and avoid getting thrown out. Now all he had to do was stick to it and hope it worked.

As he moved through the lobby, he noticed the hustle around him—clusters of scientists, sharply dressed executives, and a group of students eagerly clutching lanyards with shiny Oscorp badges. His chest tightened. He didn’t have one of those badges.

Blending into the crowd near the check-in table, he pretended to adjust his backpack, his eyes discreetly scanning the scene. A bored-looking employee sat behind the desk, typing away on a computer with little interest in the world around him.

Izuku’s mind whirred, calculating his next move. He needed to act fast, or risk being noticed.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, barely glancing up as she chewed her gum.

“Oh, yeah, I’m here for the scholarship program,” Izuku said, struggling to steady his nerves and wipe his sweaty palms on his pants.

“To your left,” she sighed, gesturing lazily toward the badges.

“Right…” He nodded, moving to the table where a variety of badges were displayed. Relief washed over him when he realized none of them had photo IDs.

“Are you struggling to find yourself?” she asked, her tone dripping with impatience.

Izuku tensed, quickly grabbing a random badge. “Nope, got myself right here,” he said, holding up the badge with what he hoped was a confident smile.

“Well, Mr. Ethan Walker,” she said, eyeing him skeptically.

Of course, he’d pick an American name, while he was very clearly Japanese.

“Yep, that’s me,” he replied, clipping the badge onto his jacket.

She rolled her eyes. “To your right, floor 21,” she said, already turning back to her computer.

“Oh, uh, thank you!” He straightened his posture, doing his best to exude confidence as he headed toward the elevators. His palms were still clammy, but he forced himself to stay focused. He’d made it this far; he couldn’t lose his nerve now.

As the elevator ascended, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the metallic walls, the Oscorp badge gleaming against his jacket. The surrealness of the situation hit him—he was inside Oscorp. Now, all he had to do was stay unnoticed and, if luck was on his side, uncover the answers he was desperately seeking.

But, of course, in true fashion, everything had to go wrong. He had planned everything down to the smallest detail—or so he thought. Hours of research, detailed schematics of the building, carefully noted staff rotations... yet somehow, he’d overlooked one crucial element.

The person leading the group he’d just infiltrated wasn’t on the employee list he looked at.

Standing there, less than ten feet away, commanding the room with that unmistakable sharp voice, was none other than Katsuki Bakugo.

For a split second, the air seemed to still, and Izuku's stomach dropped as panic surged through him like a tidal wave.

Shit.

He froze, his instincts screaming at him to turn and bolt before Bakugo's piercing red eyes could land on him. But he forced himself to move—slow, deliberate, calculated. His hood slid up in one smooth motion, his head ducking as he shrank into the middle of the group.

The crowd, blissfully unaware of his plight, became his shield. He hunched his shoulders, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the ground as he maneuvered deeper into the throng. Each step was a cautious retreat, angling his body away from Bakugo’s line of sight, praying he wouldn’t attract attention.

For now, it seems to be working. Bakugo’s focus was elsewhere, barking orders at the group, his tone as sharp and biting as ever. Yet, the weight of his presence bore down on Izuku, a palpable tension that dared him to falter.

Izuku clenched his fists, willing his trembling hands to still. He needed an opening—a distraction, a break in the group—just long enough to slip away unnoticed. But with Bakugo so close, every second dragged into an agonizing eternity.

Keep your head down. Just stay out of sight, he repeated like a mantra.

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the only one he had.

With a quiet sigh, he followed the group further into the lab. Bakugo’s voice continued, a harsh backdrop to his spiraling thoughts. Though he tried to tune it out, certain words caught his attention—words that matched the articles he had pored over the night before. Bakugo was talking about cross-species genetics.

The group came to a halt inside a sleek, sterile lab, lined with glass containers and softly humming machinery. Izuku lingered at the back, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on an unmanned workstation. His heart pounded as he calculated his next move, knowing that his window of opportunity was closing fast.

Bakugo stood at the front, arms crossed, his voice sharp as he addressed the group. “Alright, nerds, listen up. This is where the real magic happens—Oscorp’s core research lab. Touch something you’re not supposed to, and I’ll personally kick your ass out of here.”

Izuku swallowed hard, inching toward the workstation. He quickly glanced around before pulling out his notebook, scribbling a few observations about the machinery.

"But for now, welcome to Oscorp," Katsuki began, his sharp eyes scanning the group, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "My name's Katsuki Bakugo, I'm a senior at U.A. High, and I'm also head intern to Dr. Connors.” He explained, his pride ringing true. “I'll be with you the whole tour; where I go, you go. You wander off, you're out. You speak out of turn, you're out. You piss me off, you fucking out. Got it? Good."

As he went to speak more, a voice from below yelled out from the front check in desk.

"What's wrong with you!" The boy screeched, “my name is Ethan Walker! Listen to me, tell them Ethan Walker is down here! MY NAME IS ETHAN!” His voice faded off as security dragged him out.

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, his smirk turning into a glare. "And that, dipshits, is a perfect example of what will happen if you forget the rules."

The other students looked around, a little uneasy about the situation and well.. Bakugos attitude.. Izuku was quite used to it, but the others weren’t.

"I don’t need me to explain more of what happens if you forget.” He grinned, “shall we?" He gestured for the group to follow him around a corner.

They walked into a white lab with had a lot of different trinkets and employees.

Katsuki turned to the group as another person approached, one Izuku recognized instantly.

Dr. Connors, a tall, slender man with a calm demeanor, approached them. "Good afternoon, Katsuki."

"Dr. Connors," Katsuki acknowledged with a nod, his tone respectful but still carrying that edge of impatience.

At least Bakugo managed to show some respect to his boss, Izuku thought, quietly wishing he could receive even a fraction of that respect himself.

"Welcome," Dr. Connors began, addressing the group. "My name is Dr. Curtis Connors. In case you're wondering, I'm a southpaw.”

The group laughed, their gazes filled with awe and respect as they looked at Connors.
From Izuku’s research, he knew the man was a big deal—the backbone of the scientific team at Oscorp.
“I'm not a cripple... I'm a scientist, and the world's foremost authority on herpetology. That's reptiles, for those of you who don't know. Like the Parkinson's patient who watches in horror as their body slowly betrays them, or the man with macular degeneration whose eyes grow dimmer each day, I long to fix myself. I want to create a world without weakness.” Connorss spoke with ease and strength.

Izuku gazed at Connors in awe. Reading about his goals online was one thing, but witnessing his drive and passion in person was truly remarkable.

Connors looked among the crowd, “anyone care to venture a guess just how?"

A kid in the group raised his hand hesitantly.

"Yes?" Dr. Connors prompted.

"Stem cells?" the kid offered, his voice clear and strong but full of nervousness.

"Promising," Dr. Connors replied thoughtfully. "But the solution I'm thinking of is more radical. No one?" He looked around, frowning slightly when no one spoke up.

"Cross-species genetics," Izuku's soft voice piped up from the back. All heads turned toward him, including Katsuki’s sharp gaze.

Katsuki's sharp eyes immediately scanned the list of guests, his gaze narrowing as he methodically checked each name. His brow furrowed, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face when he didn’t find the name he was looking for. He went over the list again, slower this time, as if the name might magically appear on a second pass. But no matter how thoroughly he scrutinized it, Izuku’s name was conspicuously absent.

His jaw tightened, the grip on the clipboard tightening as a surge of irritation boiled beneath the surface. He knew every face, every name on that list—he had made sure of it. And yet, somehow, Izuku had slipped in unnoticed, blending into the group like a shadow. Katsuki’s mind raced, connecting the dots, his annoyance growing with each passing second. Izuku wasn't supposed to be here, and the realization lit a spark of anger in his chest.

Izuku took a deep breath and stepped forward. "A person gets Parkinson’s when the brain cells that produce dopamine start to disappear. But a zebra fish has the ability to regenerate cells on command. If you could give this ability to the woman, as you’re talking about, that’s that. She’s... She’s curing herself." He said with a slightly shaky but overall stable voice. His nerves were on fire, and he blamed that little fraction on the fact Katsukis eyes were burning into his soul.

A random kid snickered, "Yeah, you just have to look past the gills on her neck."

The rest of the group laughed along with him until Connor cleared his throat, grabbing the attention of the group.

"And you are...?" Dr. Connors asked, intrigued.

Izuku tensed up slightly, going to answer but Katsuki cut in, his voice filled with begrudging pride. "He's one of U.A.’s best and brightest."

"Really?" Dr. Connors inquired, looking more impressed.

"Second in his class," Katsuki added, his smirk making a comeback.

"Second?" Izuku echoed, raising an eyebrow in surprise. He was certain he had been first.

Katsuki crossed his arms, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, nerd, second."

"Are you sure about that?" Izuku asked, a rare moment of teasing slipping into his tone.

"Oh I’m pretty sure," Katsuki shot back, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and challenge.

Connors phone went off, which he quickly checked. "I’m afraid duty calls," Dr. Connors interrupted, looking at his watch. "I’ll leave you in the more-than-capable hands of Mr. Bakugo. Nice meeting you all." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the group in Katsuki’s capable yet intense presence.

Izuku exhaled slowly, the knot in his stomach loosening just a bit as Katsuki turned back to the group with that familiar fiery grin.

"Alright, nerds, eyes up here," Katsuki's voice cut through the chatter, pulling everyone's attention. He activated a projector, casting an intricate diagram of the Oscorp Tree of Life onto the wall. As he launched into an explanation of genetic innovation and cross-species research, Izuku barely registered the words. His heart pounded in his chest, the urge to escape growing stronger with every passing second. He needed to get out—now.

But fate, as always, seemed to conspire against him.

Just as he took a tentative step back, planning his exit, Katsuki appeared in front of him like a storm cloud. "And why the hell are you here, Deku?" he demanded, his voice laced with irritation but underpinned by a curious edge.

Izuku froze, the heat rising in his face. "Are you going to kick me out?" he asked, hoping for a sliver of mercy.

"Are you going to be a problem?" Katsuki shot back, his eyes narrowing.

Izuku sighed, conceding the point. "Touché."

Katsuki crossed his arms, his glare intensifying. "Look, shit nerd, I don’t know why you're here, and it's seriously weirding me out. Knowing you, it’s probably something stupid."

"Have you no trust in my intentions at all?" Izuku asked, forcing a weak smile.

"Absolu-fucking-lutely not," Katsuki replied without missing a beat, his annoyance evident. "Listen, stay out of the way and don’t do anything you're not supposed to. I'd love to kick you out, but I’m feeling generous today."

"That’s a first," Izuku muttered under his breath.

Katsuki’s eyes sharpened. "Wanna speak up, Deku? If you've got a problem, grow a damn pair and say it."

"No, no problem," Izuku stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I’ll behave."

"God, you’re going to give me a brain aneurysm," Katsuki groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "One wrong move, and you’re out. Got it?"

"Yeah... got it, Kacchan," Izuku replied, nodding earnestly.

Katsuki's glare lingered for a moment before he sighed heavily. "I’ve got to lead this group, but we will be talking about this later," he warned, his tone icy. "Don’t screw this up for me." With that, he turned back to the group, his commanding voice fading as he led them towards the bioreactor room. "Alright, attention front and center. We're heading to the bioreactor room next. Touch anything without permission and I’ll personally throw you out."

As the group followed Katsuki into the next room, Izuku exhaled, trying to calm his nerves. He needed to regroup. His original plan was crumbling, but maybe he could still salvage this. He glanced around, considering his next move. Perhaps he could find Dr. Connors or at least explore a bit more before making his escape.

Lost in thought, Izuku wasn’t paying attention to where he was going and collided straight into someone. "Oh no, I’m sorry—" he began, but his words caught in his throat as his eyes fell on the file the man had dropped. It bore the same confidential "Project 00" logo as the one he had seen in his father’s files.

His heart nearly stopped. Could it really be this easy?

As he reached down to help, his hand brushed against the file. His grip tightened reflexively, his mind racing. The man, clearly agitated, snatched the file back with a scowl, muttering something under his breath. Izuku stood frozen, the shock still evident in his wide eyes. He had come here seeking answers, and now, those answers were tantalizingly close.

Izuku’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched the man grip the file and hurry down a corridor. That logo—his father’s logo—was imprinted in his mind. Against his better judgment, he followed, his footsteps light and deliberate.

As the man walked briskly down the corridor, Izuku kept his distance, moving silently, careful not to attract attention. The man approached a large, secure door at the end of the hallway, its metallic surface gleaming under the sterile lighting. Next to the door stood a worker in a lab coat, who exchanged a brief, knowing glance with the man before punching in a code on the keypad. The door clicked open, and they both slipped inside, the door hissing shut behind them.

Izuku edged closer, peering around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. His mind buzzed with questions—what was behind that door? Why did it feel so familiar, yet so foreign? The logo on the file, the secrecy—it all felt connected to something deeper.

After a few tense minutes, the door opened again, and the two men emerged, chatting in low voices. They moved away quickly, their footsteps echoing down the hall. Izuku waited until they were out of sight before stepping up to the keypad. He stared at it, trying to recall the sequence of numbers the worker had entered. His fingers trembled slightly as he pressed the buttons, each beep of the keypad resonating in his ears.

The door unlocked with a soft click, and Izuku hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath before pushing it open. Inside, the room was dimly lit, filled with rows of glass cases and electronic equipment. But what caught his eye immediately were the cages—hundreds of them, stacked neatly, each housing a tangle of synthetic webs.

He walked slowly toward one of the cages, mesmerized by the shimmering threads that crisscrossed inside. The spiders were unlike any he had ever seen—sleek, almost mechanical in their movements, their tiny bodies glinting under the faint light. His hand reached out almost involuntarily, brushing against the web. The cage rattled slightly, and suddenly, the spiders stirred.

Before he could react, the spiders cascaded down, a torrent of tiny legs and silken threads engulfing him. He gasped, frantically brushing them off, his heart pounding in his chest. Most of the spiders scurried away, dispersing back into their cages, but he still felt like they were all over him.

Panicking, Izuku stumbled back, his breathing ragged. He had to get out—now. He turned and bolted for the door, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, his skin crawling with the sensation of tiny legs even though they were gone. As he burst back into the hallway, he didn’t stop to look back, only focusing on putting as much distance as possible between himself and that room.

Izuku hurried back toward the group, his heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct screamed at him to leave, to get out before things worsened. But just as he was about to merge with the crowd, Katsuki stepped in front of him, his expression darkened with frustration.

"Damn it, Deku," Katsuki growled, his voice low and seething. "Can’t even follow a simple fucking rule." He held out his hand, palm open, silently demanding the badge.

Izuku swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I’m sorry," he muttered, unclipping the badge and placing it into Katsuki’s waiting hand. The disappointment in Katsuki's eyes cut deeper than the harsh words. Without another word, Katsuki turned on his heel, shaking his head as he walked away, his irritation evident in every step.

Izuku felt a sinking sensation in his gut. He was screwed. All he had to do was follow the plan, keep his head down, and blend in. He could practically hear the self-recrimination in his mind. You just had to-

A sharp, searing pain exploded at the base of his neck. He yelped, the sound escaping before he could stop it, his hand flying to the back of his neck. The pain radiated outward, hot and throbbing, like fire beneath his skin. His fingers trembled as he pressed against the spot, trying to soothe the burning sensation.

Katsuki glanced back at him, his eyes narrowing for a brief moment before he continued on, evidently dismissing the outburst as more of Izuku’s usual weirdness.

Izuku gritted his teeth, the pain refusing to subside. He stumbled toward the exit, each step heavier than the last. The cool evening air hit him like a wave as he finally pushed through the revolving doors, the bustling noise of the city a dull backdrop to the roaring in his ears.

He needed to get to the subway station—away from Oscorp, away from Katsuki, away from this whole mess. His vision blurred slightly, and he shook his head to clear it, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

Well, that was a complete disaster.

The thought echoed bitterly in his mind as he descended the steps to the subway, his hand still clutching the back of his neck. Whatever had happened in there, it was far from over.

Izuku slouched in his seat on the late-night subway, exhaustion pressing heavily on him after a long day. The hum of the train and the dim flicker of overhead lights made it easy for his eyes to droop shut. The rattling of the tracks lulled him into a light sleep, his green hair tousled against the seat’s backrest.

He didn’t notice the group of rowdy passengers who entered at the last stop, their laughter echoing through the near-empty car. One of them, a smirking young man holding a beer bottle, noticed Izuku’s peaceful slumber and nudged his friend.

"Watch this," the man whispered, carefully creeping toward Izuku. He gingerly placed the bottle on Izuku’s head, balancing it with a mischievous grin.

Izuku’s eyes snapped open the second he felt the condensation from the drink drip on his forehead. His senses were tingling like an alarm in his brain. In an instant, he leaped up, sticking to the ceiling of the subway car, startling the group below. The beer bottle clattered to the floor, its contents splashing onto the nearby passengers, including a girl in a white blouse.

"Hey!" she yelped, standing up in shock as the beer stained her shirt. “Dammit! Now I’m gonna smell like beer!”

Izuku dropped from the ceiling, flustered and embarrassed as he tried to help. "I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that.." He reached over, resting his hand on her shoulder. But as he went to pull it away, his hand stuck to the fabric.

He started panicking as he stuttered, “I-I didn’t..” He was too shocked and well, frightened at the moment to say anything else.

A different man approached, “the hell are you doing? Get your hands off her.”

Izuku nearly whined in frustration, “I’m trying..” He spoke softly, really trying to remove his hand but for some reason it wouldn’t budge.

The man had enough and pushed Izuku back, which did him no favors since he ripped the shirt clean off.

The girl screamed, clutching the chest, covering her now exposed chest.

“Pervert!” one of the guys shouted, stepping forward with a scowl.

Izuku tried to pull his hand back from the pole, but again, it was stuck. "I didn’t mean to.. I swear!"

The man didn’t listen, lunging at Izuku.His senses flared again, and he ducked under the punch, instinctively flipping backward over a seat. The other members of the group joined in, turning the subway car into a chaotic battleground.

Izuku danced through their attacks with agility, his movements fluid and instinctive. One of the attackers glanced down at his skateboard.

“Please, not my board—” Izuku pleaded, but his words were ignored as the attacker swung the board toward him. Instinctively, Izuku raised his arm to block the blow. The board shattered on impact.

Izuku winced, more in frustration than pain, as he sidestepped another strike. With a swift movement, he maneuvered around a nearby pole, using it to leverage a powerful kick that sent the assailant stumbling backward.

The maneuver left Izuku off balance, and he pitched forward, about to hit the ground face-first. Instead, the pole snapped free from its base, swinging down and striking another man squarely in the crotch.

Izuku cringed at the unintended outcome. “Sorry!” he called out, quickly regaining his footing. With the pole now in hand, he moved deftly, striking down the remaining attackers one by one.

In moments, the alley was filled with the groans of the defeated men, all sprawled on the ground.

Breathing heavily, Izuku glanced around, bewildered by the turn of events. The pole, its job done, slipped from his grasp and clattered to the pavement.

He looked at his hand, wondering what the actual fuck just happened..

As the train slowed as it approached the next station, the doors slid open with a soft ding. Izuku, glancing around at the aftermath of the fight, gave a quick bow of apology before darting out of the train.

Izuku pushed open the door to the apartment, his breath coming in short gasps as he stepped inside. He quickly glanced around, trying to make sure no one had noticed how late it was. His clothes were a little disheveled, and his hands were slick with sweat. The subway fight was intense and the adrenaline was now just wearing off.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, he heard the unmistakable voice of his mother from the kitchen.

"Izuku?"

His heart skipped a beat, and he forced himself to move toward the kitchen. There, Inko stood, her hands resting on the counter, eyes wide with concern as she looked him over. She didn't speak immediately, but the tension in the air was palpable.

Izuku wiped his forehead, trying to appear normal, but the beads of sweat that clung to his hair betrayed his anxiety. "M-Mom, what are you still doing up?" His voice came out a little shakier than he meant, and he couldn’t stop his hands from trembling.

Inko's gaze softened, but the worry didn’t leave her face. "I could ask you the same thing," she said, stepping closer. "It's almost midnight, Izuku. Where have you been? I was worried."

Izuku swallowed hard, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a believable excuse. "I... I just got caught up. It's nothing, really. I’m fine."

He reached for the fridge, his movements stiff as he pulled out a half-eaten sandwich. His eyes flitted nervously toward his mother, then quickly down to the food. "You didn’t need to wait up for me."

Inko studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing just a little. "Izuku, you’re acting strange. You’re sweating, your hands are shaking... Are you sure you’re okay?"

"I’m fine, really!" Izuku replied too quickly, his words coming out in a panicked rush. He felt heat rising to his face, and he tried to push past the discomfort. "I just got a little... distracted. It’s nothing."

But Inko wasn’t convinced. She stepped forward, reaching out to touch his arm gently. "Izuku, please... You don’t have to lie to me. What’s going on?"

He flinched slightly at the touch, his breath shallow. He didn't want to worry her more, but he couldn’t seem to control the anxiety building up inside him. He turned away, walking toward the stairs with the sandwich in hand, his head spinning. "I’m just really tired," he muttered, avoiding her gaze. "I’m gonna go to bed now."

Inko hesitated, her concern evident, but she didn’t push. "Alright, but we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?" she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her love and worry.

Izuku didn’t say a word; he simply nodded before heading upstairs. As he closed his bedroom door behind him, he took a long, steady breath. The weight of the day pressed heavily on him. He collapsed onto his bed, trying to shake off the tension that clung to his body.

Once his breathing steadied, hunger hit him like a wave, and he ate without hesitation, his stomach growling in protest.

Afterward, exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he drifted into a deep, untroubled sleep, his body worn out from the strain of the day’s events.

If Izuku thought today was strange, with the Oscorp labs and the subway incident, he was in for a humbling experience—because by next morning he would have one hell of a rude awakening.

Chapter Text

He stirred awake, his alarm blazing in his ear. Groaning, he rolled over and slapped the alarm clock; it broke on impact. He pressed his face into the pillow, groaning again, his eyes barely cracking open.

A dull ache pulsed throughout his body; his muscles felt tense, as if he’d spent the entire night lifting heavy weights instead of sleeping.

Squinting against the morning light filtering through his curtains, his mind still sluggish with sleep, he pushed himself up groggily, only to feel a strange, unfamiliar strength surge through his limbs. His fingers curled instinctively, gripping the bed’s headboard for support. The wood groaned under his grasp before an ear splitting crack split the air. Startled, he yanked his hand away, staring wide eyed at the fresh, splintered imprint of his fingers embedded in the frame.

“What the hell...” He looked from the splintered wood to his hand and shrugged it off. His brain was still foggy from sleep and not processing what was happening. His foot caught on the blanket, sending him lurching forward. He reached out blindly to steady himself, grasping for anything to catch his fall. His hand closed around the doorknob, only for it to snap off in his grip like it was made of paper.

Izuku froze, blinking down at the knob now in his palm. That definitely wasn’t normal, right?

He shook his head and shambled toward the bathroom, absently tossing the doorknob onto his desk. He’d deal with that later.

His body felt strangely light, yet powerful; it was like moving through a dream where his limbs didn’t quite belong to him.

He reached for his toothbrush with one hand, the other fumbling with the toothpaste tube. His grip tightened without meaning to, and in an instant the tube flattened in his grasp. A thick splatter of minty gel shot forward, splashing across the mirror in a messy, chaotic streak.

Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the mirror; toothpaste dripped down the glass like melting snow. He shrugged, shaking off the oddness of the morning, and wiped some toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

As he finished brushing, he went to turn on the faucet, but it had other plans. The moment his fingers pulled against it, the metal popped off. A jet of cold water sprayed upward, splashing all over his face and the bathroom.

Strings of curses left his lips as he scrambled to stop the flow. Eventually, he grabbed a blanket and shoved it on top.

He would definitely deal with that later.

“Izuku, honey, what was that?” His mother called up to him, hearing strange noises from downstairs.

“Uh... I just slipped in the shower! I’m okay,” he yelled back, cringing at the mess he’d made. Something was clearly happening, and he had zero idea how to deal with any of it.



—



Izuku felt Katsuki’s gaze burning into his soul the entire walk to school. It was like the blonde’s eyes were searing right through him.

He hurried inside, hoping no more weird stuff happened like the morning’s.. events, if you could even call them that.

Nothing made sense. The last twenty eight hours were a blur, fuzzy and strange; kind of like being drunk, though he’d never been drunk himself. He’d only ever seen Shoto drink with Sero at their get togethers. Not that Izuku really went to those parties, not because he wasn’t invited, but because it wasn’t a good idea, especially since Katsuki attended them. Sero was in Katsuki’s friend group, after all.

Speaking of Katsuki, he was still watching him, like he knew some secret Izuku didn’t. Honestly, that was a bit nerve racking.

Izuku shuffled over to his locker and turned the dial until his code was set. But, to his horrible luck, when he pulled the lock, it snapped right off.

“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. The gods must’ve pitied him; Katsuki was busy talking to Kirishima, and no one else was paying attention.

Actually, no one really paid attention to him in general. Being a nerd and, well, a loser kind of did that to you.

But things were different now, he knew that. Izuku had friends. Good friends. Ochako, Iida, and Shoto. Sure, he wasn’t popular, god forbid, but he had his group, and that was enough. He was friends with his friends’ boyfriends and girlfriends, but they weren’t really friends.

Sero was cool, like if a hippie mixed with Mexican culture. He also smoked a ton of weed, which made him easy to talk to. Shoto and Sero were.. friends, but also not. Izuku had stopped asking about their relationship ages ago. Sero’s mom was cool, but Shoto’s dad… he needed everything to be perfect. In his eyes, Sero wasn’t that. Shoto said it had something to do with Sero being from a lower class and, well, the fact that he was a guy. Endeavor wasn’t homophobic, per se, but he really didn’t like it. From his and Shoto’s perspective, it was probably because Shoto’s older brother, Touya, who did everything he could to piss their father off, including certain illegal activities involving his car with his best friend Keigo Takami.

Then there was Toga, Ochako’s on and off crush. Toga was different, a high school dropout, or more accurately, expelled, but she left before it could be officially recorded. She hung around Touya’s friend group, or Dabi, as he goes by now. Toga and Ochako were obviously in love, but, you know how gay people are: either it takes them a hundred years to admit their feelings, or after one day they’re moving in together. Izuku liked Toga, even though she sometimes gave him the heebie jeebies.

Iida didn’t really date. He’d had a short relationship with Ochako in middle school, more because of the standards for relationships at the time, but they both decided they were better off as friends. Other than that, he hadn’t dated anyone else. He was more focused on graduation and being class rep than on dating.

And then there was Izuku. His love life was as dry as the Sahara Desert. Sure, he went on dates once in a blue moon, but they always ended badly, leaving him embarrassed and never speaking to the other person again. The first time he kissed a girl, he started crying. He realized he was gay very soon after. Other than that girl, he had a couple of dates with someone from a rival school, but that was horrible too. They weren’t serious; more like friends with benefits, without the benefits. That ended when a teacher caught them making out after hours. Dating was strictly forbidden at Shiketsu, so, of course, it didn’t last. There was another guy, but Izuku never dated him, even though at one point he wanted it more than anything. And to make matters worse, it was no other than his ex best friend, Katsuki Bakugo.

Falling for your straight best friend was one of the biggest and most common experiences for LGBTQ+ people. It happened more often than not, and it hurt more than any relationship.

Unrequited love was a bitch, to say the least, and that was a goddamn understatement.

When Izuku realized he was head over heels for Katsuki, he threw up, cried like a baby, had a panic attack, and then threw up again. It wasn’t his proudest moment; he still cringed thinking back on it to this day. It was a very, very humbling experience.

Thank the gods above the loudmouth blonde never found out about his crush. If he had, Izuku might’ve actually thrown himself off a cliff.

Liking Katsuki was like being burned by blue fire; it hurt endlessly, but you couldn’t see the damage. Or it was like hearing the god awful sound of nails on a chalkboard. Maybe he was being dramatic, but it felt that way.

When he figured out his feelings for Katsuki, it was like his whole world came crashing down. He was young and dumb. Thirteen was a terrible age to realize that your whole life had been a fucked up lie you told yourself just to keep sane.

He sighed to himself; thinking about the past never did any good, especially when it came to Katsuki.

Sure, they had a very complicated history, but the one thing he didn’t want was his feelings coming back. They never truly left, but currently, he didn’t have a crush on Katsuki, and he intended to keep it that way. Liking Katsuki never ended well; it was always painful. The blonde was closed off to most people, even his best friends. Falling for an emotionally unavailable person wasn’t something Izuku needed to add to his growing list of problems.

Speaking of problems, he seriously needed to figure out what the hell happened last night. To him, it was all a blur; everything happened so fast and slow at the same time.

He needed to check the files he found yesterday during free period. He had to figure out what the hell had happened.



—



The whole class was working on their hero projects, chatting amongst themselves about which was better and how to write theirs.

Izuku wasn’t working on his, even though he should have been. He was determined to figure out what had happened to him.

“Deku!” Ochako came over, sitting beside him. “Whatcha doing?”

He looked up, smiling softly. “I’ll explain at lunch. I don’t exactly feel like repeating myself to everyone.. and, well, there’s a lot I need to say.”

Ochako gave him a worried look. “Now you’re freaking me out. Did something happen?”

“You could say that,” he laughed shortly.

They fell into silence for twenty minutes, both working on school; well, in Izuku’s case, digging up information on Oscorp.

Soon after, the bell rang and they packed their things.

“Finally. I thought class would never end,” Ochako complained, walking out of the room with Deku and heading toward the bleachers.

He laughed softly. “Tell me about it. I love the class, but being in the same room with Kacchan just puts me on edge.”

She nodded. “Did he do something again?”

He pursed his lips, debating. “Well... not exactly.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is.”

They sat down beside Shoto and Iida.

“That’s unacceptable, Shoto! Smoking on campus is forbidden!” Iida had a look of pure disbelief.

Shoto rolled his eyes, calmly eating his cold soba. “For one, it wasn’t me smoking. I was just there.”

“That doesn’t matter! You shouldn’t surround yourself with rule breakers; they’ll get you in trouble!”

Shoto shrugged. “Hopefully they do. If it inconveniences my father, I’ll gladly take the punishment.”

Iida opened his mouth to launch into another lecture, but Ochako shoved a piece of bread in it before he could start. “Since it’s Friday, are we still planning on going to the party at Kiri’s?”

Shoto nodded. “Yeah, Sero’s sneaking me out.”

Iida mumbled something about rules, earning a massive eye roll from Shoto. “I will be attending as well,” Iida said evenly. “Though I do not agree with the activities that will be taking place, someone needs to ensure everyone gets home safely.”

Ochako smiled. “That’s sweet of you. I’m sure the others will appreciate it.” She opened her lunch. “I’m going too. I need to blow off some steam.”

They all turned to Deku.

Izuku’s cheeks flushed. “I’m not changing my answer. Even if I wanted to go, I have better things to do.”

“Like what? Re-read the All Might novels?” Ochako teased.

He frowned. “Well, I wasn’t planning on that.. but no making fun!” he whined, opening his lunch. He sighed. “Actually, I found something when I was cleaning out the basement after the leak.”

Shoto raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘found something’?”

He opened his backpack, pulling out a file. “This.” He spread it open, and they all leaned in.

“I don’t know exactly what it is yet... but it was my father’s,” he explained. “When I was cleaning up, I found it stashed under the stairs. When I opened it, there wasn’t much; just some of my dad’s work stuff like an Oscorp ID badge, glasses, and a few other things.”

“Whoa. And it was, like, hidden?” Ochako asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, under the stairs. I’m honestly surprised it didn’t get ruined by the water.”

They listened closely.

“And what about the file? Where did you find that?” Iida questioned.

“That’s the weird part. I had a feeling I wasn’t seeing the whole picture, so I checked the briefcase again. In the back, there was a zippered pocket with a hidden compartment. When I opened it, I found this file, and that’s not even the strangest part.” He pointed to a section. “This talks about cross species DNA. The decay rate algorithm.” He pulled out his laptop and showed them a photo.

“Is that..?” Shoto started.

“Curt Connors, yeah. One of Oscorp’s head scientists.” Izuku nodded. “I did some digging. Apparently, Connors is working on creating a world without weakness. He wants to fix himself and others with similar disabilities; using cross species DNA to regrow body parts like reptiles do.”

“How would he even figure out how to do that in the first place?” Ochako asked. “Isn’t that basically impossible?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly.” He gestured to the file again. “Connors and my father were working on some secret underground project. It’s connected to all of this. But here’s the thing, none of what’s in this file is online.”

“Well, it’s confidential,” Iida said. “Why would it be on the internet? It’s meant to be private.”

“Yeah, sure. But then why hide it? Why would my dad tell my mom to protect it, keep it buried for ten years? Connors is now public about his work, but what he says doesn’t match what’s in this file.” Izuku studied their reactions. "Isn’t that weird? Why keep it secret, then suddenly share it with the world?”

Iida sighed. “You should leave it alone, Midoriya. Some things are better left forgotten.” He spoke calmly. “Don’t open Pandora’s box. You don’t know what you could find; and from the looks of it, maybe it’s better if it stays that way.”

The others stayed quiet after that. No more questions. The conversation shifted to schoolwork, and just like that, Izuku was alone in this again.



—



Izuku walked into the gym, planning to mind his business. He just needed to ask someone from the dance poster crew when the dance was; he was supposed to be taking the photos for the school, but of course, his luck never played in his favor. Katsuki was there. And, naturally, he wasn’t being nice.

While playing basketball with the team, Katsuki, being the absolute ass he was, "accidentally" tossed the ball off course. It flew straight into the paint the dance crew was using, spilling all over the poster and ruining it.

"The hell, Bakugo!" one of the girls shouted, clearly frustrated and pissed.

He smirked, shrugged, and said, "Oops," without a care in the world.

She huffed, muttering curses as she tried to clean the mess.

Izuku frowned, but then, a spark lit in his mind. A very bad idea. But he was done with Katsuki getting away with being a bully. Simple as that.

“Hold this, please.” He handed the girl his camera and walked over, snatching the basketball out of Katsuki’s hands.

The blonde turned, confused at first, then scowled.

“Dou have a death wish, Deku,” he threatened. "I was nice the other day, but do not mistake that for anything but a one time thing."

Izuku rolled his eyes, frowning. “You should apologize, Kacchan. That wasn’t very nice of you.”

Katsuki laughed, arms crossed. “And why would I apologize? It was a simple, honest mistake,” he said mockingly, condescension dripping from every word.

Izuku sighed. “Does it make you happy, putting others down? Hurting people just because you’re so insecure that the only way you feel good is by bullying others?”

Where this wave of confidence came from, Izuku didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to waste it.

Katsuki’s expression darkened in an instant.

“Give me the ball back,” he growled.

A smirk played across Izuku’s face. “Okay.. but you’ll have to take it from me.” His tone was teasing, but he meant it.

“Oh really?” Katsuki raised a brow, amused. “Don’t come crying when you fall on your ass.”

He lunged, but Izuku dodged with ease.

Katsuki laughed, clearly thinking this was ridiculous; until Izuku started to dribble behind the back, between his legs, clean and fast.

Now Katsuki was trying, but he still couldn’t catch him.

Izuku began to toy with him, tossing the ball behind his back, weaving in circles.

“And here I thought you were the best on the team, the captain.” He looked him up and down, a smirk playing on his lips.

That struck a nerve.

“Deku, you little shit!” Katsuki charged again.

Izuku saw it coming and stepped aside, letting him pass. Then, just to add fuel to the fire, he threw the basketball at Katsuki’s back. It bounced off and returned to his waiting hands.

Katsuki’s teammates laughed.

That did him in.

“Give me the damn ball, nerd, or so help me god-”

Izuku held it out. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Katsuki grabbed the ball and tugged; nothing. It didn’t move. Not even an inch.

His teammates raised their eyebrows.

“What? Can’t grab it?” Izuku asked sweetly. “Here, I’ll even look away if that helps.” He covered his eyes, then peeked through his fingers, wearing a devilish smirk.

Katsuki tugged with both hands. Still nothing.

Eventually, Katsuki gave up. “What the fuck.. Keep the damn ball, you weirdo.” He turned and stomped off.

Izuku smirked. He ran up, circling the court, then jumped; slam dunking the ball.

The backboard shattered on impact.

Glass rained down. Silence fell. Izuku landed, stunned.

Everyone stared, some even backed away.

He looked down at the shattered basketball frame in his hand, horror creeping into his expression.

Maybe these odd events, and his newfound strength, were more serious than he thought.

—



Izuku was waiting for his mother to finish speaking with the principal. He already knew he was screwed, there was no other option.

He hadn’t just broken school property; he’d completely embarrassed Katsuki. That alone was guaranteed to come back and bite him. Hard.

Inko stepped out of the office, wearing her usual kind and gentle expression, but Izuku knew better. He could see the fury behind her eyes, barely contained.

“Is it true?” Her voice was dangerously calm. “Did you humiliate Katsuki in front of the whole basketball team?”

Izuku crossed his arms, defiant. “He deserved it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did he now?”

Izuku flinched. Wrong thing to say.

“I’m so disappointed in you, Izuku. You know better than this, you are better than this.”

He looked down. “He was being rude! He does that to everyone and never gets consequences!”

“So that makes it okay to hurt him back?” Inko pressed.

He didn’t answer. What could he say? Of course she was right, she was always right. “I’m sorry.”

She stood straighter. “Good. And you’re still not off the hook, son.”

Inko hated punishing him, and truthfully, she wasn’t very good at it. But her voice left no room for argument this time.

“The school’s not making you pay for the backboard, thankfully. But you do have twenty hours of community service.”

“That’s all?” Izuku asked, slightly relieved.

Her look silenced him instantly.

“Carry on,” he mumbled.

Inko continued, and her next words nearly knocked the wind out of him.

“I heard your teacher has an assignment going on; a partner project is also part of the deal. You’re now partners with Katsuki, hopefully it will help you two learn to get along without gunning for each others throats.”

Izuku’s jaw dropped. “What?! Mom, you can’t do that!”

“You’re right, I can’t.” She folded her arms. “But your teacher can. And he already was considering it. After what happened in the gym, he came to the office and made the official recommendation. You two are seniors, nearly adults. Work it out.”

“But-!”

“No buts! This is final.” She adjusted her cardigan. “I need to get back to work. I’ll see you at home.” And with that, she walked off, leaving Izuku behind; alone, horrified, and trapped in what could only be described as a living nightmare.

Maybe he was being dramatic.

No. No, he definitely wasn’t.

This was Kacchan they were talking about. His ex best friend turned tormentor for over ten years. What could possibly go wrong? Nothing like rekindling a childhood friendship through forced academic labor!

He muttered to himself as he left the building, trying to think of any possible outcome that didn’t end in disaster.



—



Rain fell onto the pavement, soaking into the fabric of Izuku’s hoodie. He was making his way to Connors house, he was going to ask about the files he found.. But he definitely wasn’t saying anything about the day before, about the spiders.

He thought if he talked to Connors, maybe he’d be able to figure out his dad’s research but also figure out what the hell happened to him.

No more weird incidents had happened since the backboard.. situation. But his guard was still up, and he was hoping this time it wouldn’t be as dramatic.

As he approached Connor's house he saw a tall, black iron gate. He took a deep breath before buzzing the intercom box.

Okay, Izuku, you can do this. It’s just Dr. Curt Connors. Former partner of your dad. Head of Oscorp’s bio genetics division. No pressure. None at all.

After a moment, a staticky voice crackled through the speaker. “Yes?”

“H-hi,” Izuku said, cursing internally over the stutter. “My name’s, uh, I’m Midoriya. Izuku Midoriya.” He clarified, hoping he wasn’t butchering this. “I-I know it’s well after your shift has ended, and I shouldn’t be here but I really, really need to talk to you.”

Nothing came through the speaker, just silence which was making his heart pound with anxiety.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be bothering you if this wasn’t really important. It’s about the decay algorithm. And Oscorp. And my dad. Hatashi Midoriya.”

Static again, but this time it cut off with a click.

Izuku stared at the intercom. “No wait! Please! I said Hatashi Midori-”

The gate buzzed open.

Izuku blinked, now embarrassed. “Well that went smoothly.” He muttered to himself, cursing himself for whatever the fuck that was.

He jogged up the walkway, hoping this wasn’t a huge mistake.

The front door creaked open before he could knock and there stood Connors. His lab worn sweater hung loosely off one shoulder, the empty sleeve pinned just above where his right arm should’ve been.

“You have your father’s stubbornness,” Connors said, voice dry. “He also didn’t know when to leave things alone.”

Izuku gave a small, sheepish laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Connors stepped aside. “Get in before you catch pneumonia.”

The inside of the house smelled faintly of paper, dust, and coffee. Books and notes covered nearly every surface, the organized chaos of someone who lived in their mind more than the world.

“I hope you’re not here selling insurance,” Connors muttered, limping toward the living room. “Because I’ve already got enough people trying to sell me on nonsense these days.”

Izuku followed, trying not to gawk. “No, sir. I’m here about the decay algorithm. I found my dad’s notes. The ones Oscorp kept classified.”

Connors stopped. His eyes narrowed as he turned to face him. “You had access to those?”

“Well… not officially. I kind of found them hidden in a drawer at home.” Izuku smiled nervously. “He labeled them ‘baseball stats,’ but the math wasn’t exactly Little League level.” He lied, not wanting to give up how he actually came to find the information yet.

Connors looked at him, silent, unreadable.

“I know what the algorithm does,” Izuku said quickly. “At least… mostly. It’s designed to calculate the rate at which biological tissue breaks down over time. But if you adjust the parameters, flip the model, it doesn’t just stop decay. It predicts regeneration.”

Connors’s face softened a little, just a flicker of intrigue in his eyes. “Go on.”

Izuku stepped closer, trying not to fidget or seem nervous. “With the right application, it could help regrow lost cells. Limbs. Organs. My dad believed it could actually heal people. Not just stabilize them, fix them.” He said softly, “and when I read your blog I noticed you were still continuing the work.”

Connors exhaled through his nose, and turned toward the kitchen counter. “Your father and I both believed we could, but the project we were working on isn’t.. What I’m currently doing.”

He moved to pour Izuku a cup of tea but his elbow knocked into a ceramic coffee cup. It teetered for a second, then fell.

Before it could hit the ground, Izuku lunged forward and caught it with one hand. Smooth, clean catch.

Connors looked at him.

“You have fast reflexes,” he said quietly, studying him with a new fond curiosity.

Izuku shrugged, placing the cup back. “It’s a new development." He mumbled under his breath.

“Pardon?” Connors asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, “it’s a long story, not one I’d prefer to get into.”


Connors nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth forming into a soft welcoming smile. “Come here,” he gestured toward a nearby desk covered in diagrams.

Izuku stepped over, eyes immediately locking onto a large whiteboard filled with equations, genetic strands, and illustrations of animal limbs, particularly a reptilian one. Notes in red marker underlined a phrase over and over again: “Cross species compatibility.”

“You know what this is?” Connors asked.

“Cross species genetics,” Izuku answered without hesitation, remembering what he read and saw at Oscorp. “Splicing stable DNA traits from one organism into another.” He looked up at the doctor, “you're trying to use reptilian regenerative codes to heal all kinds of sickness, defects, and disabilities. Right?”

Connors nodded, “that’s correct.” He gestured to the papers, “your father and I both believed we could rewrite the rules of biology, not just apply them to reptiles but also humans. Fix the unfixable.” He said, confirming what Izuku said.

“Ever since my father.. passed, you’ve been doing it alone,” Izuku looked back up at him.

There was silence for a minute, both males just looking at each other before Connors turned away, looking at his paperwork.

Izuku sighed, continuing. “I understand what you're trying to do. You’re not just trying to heal yourself and others, you want to change the aspect of medicine forever. You want to change the world.”

Connors turned to him again, studying him as if seeing him clearly for the first time. “You’re smarter than you look.”

Izuku blushed, not knowing if that’s an insult or compliment.. or both. “Thanks.. I think?”

Connors tapped the board with a pen. “If this would be something that would interest you.. Stop by Oscorp on Monday, I’d like to discuss more on this, with more materials.

Izuku’s heart jumped, he wasn’t expecting that. Actually.. He didn’t know what he was expecting. “If I wouldn’t impose too much, I’d love to.” Izuku smiled softly.

Connors returned the smile, “don’t make me regret it, kid.” He said, “we’ll see if you can back up all that theory with something real.”

Connors walked him to the door, opening it for him. Izuku nodded once more at him before departing down his driveway.

He didn’t know what was going to happen with Connors, or where this would lead; but for the first time in days, he felt something other than fear. He felt ready. And maybe, just maybe.. Excited.

As he walked to the nearest bus stop, Izuku felt his phone vibrate, signaling a new message. Pulling it from his pocket, he saw it was from Ochako.

Ochako:
Hey Deku, what’ve you been up
to today? Was just wondering if
you were coming to Kirishima’s party!
Most of us are here and it would be
SO much fun if you came too!!

Izuku:
I just finished up something, but
I don’t know if going to the party
is a good idea... with Kacchan
being there and all.

Ochako:
Come onnn!! Just ignore him
and come have some fun!
You need to loosen up, you’ve
been really weird today…

Izuku:
With what happened today,
I don’t think there’s any
ignoring him...

Ochako:
Wait, what? Did something
else happen today?

Izuku cringed at the message. He really didn’t feel like getting into the whole basketball incident or the ridiculous punishment the school gave him. Although, to him, it didn’t even feel like punishment; more like the staff saying, “hey, we don’t want you causing any more problems, so here’s our solution.” But in his eyes, it was going to be actual hell. Like, ACTUAL hell.


Izuku:
I guess you could say
that… It’s a long story.

Ochako:
Then come to the party and
tell me! I’m not taking no for
an answer. Don’t make me
blackmail you into coming…

Izuku:
You wouldn’t.

Ochako:
Oh, I would. Now get your
sexy ass down here before
I hunt you down myself.

Izuku:
Fine, I’m on my way. But
if anything happens, I’m
blaming you.

With that, Izuku pocketed his phone and started walking again toward the bus stop.

He had a nagging feeling something bad was going to happen. Not just a passing worry, but a deep, persistent sense twisting in his gut.. His whole body screaming at him that something wasn’t right.

He usually trusted his instincts, especially when they acted like this, but it was hard to trust anything right now. Not with everything that had been happening to him lately. He wanted to ask Dr. Connors what the hell was happening to his body, but he couldn’t; not without admitting he broke into Oscorp. If Connors knew, he might report him. And if his mom found out, she’d probably have a heart attack on the spot.

Izuku sighed, slumping onto the bench at the bus stop. He needed a distraction. Anything to shake the anxiety knotting up in his stomach.

He plugged in his headphones and hit play; Queen.

The music helped a little, until it didn’t. The longer he listened, the louder it got, and so did the tension crawling up his spine. The unease didn’t go away, it only got worse, more intense.

Then, all the hair on his arms stood on end.

He froze, instinct taking over. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong..

He yanked off his headphones, eyes darting around. His breathing slowed, ears straining for anything out of place.

Then, just like before, the sharp feeling hit again; like a lightning strike inside his skull. A pulse of incoming danger.

Without thinking, Izuku got up and hid behind the nearest tree. It felt stupid, childish even, but the creeping dread told him he was right to be cautious.

Then he heard it.

“Are you sure this is all of it?” a faint voice asked. Another voice responded, but Izuku couldn’t catch what they said.

Now, any sane person would have stayed hidden.

But Izuku? Apparently, he wouldn’t survive a horror movie because, like a complete idiot, he followed the voices. Whatever survival instincts he had must’ve short circuited the moment he crouched behind a different tree.

He crept toward the edge of a hillside, laying low as he peeked down from the slope.

And that’s when his breath hitched in his throat.

Fear, thick and suffocating, paralyzed him.

That wasn’t just anyone down there. He knew who that was. He’d seen their face on the news. The heroes had been tracking them for weeks, weeks.

It was none other than the infamous League of Villains.

Magne.

Or, as most knew her, Big Sis Mag.

And if she was here, that meant the rest of her twisted little group might not be far behind.

Izuku’s pulse pounded in his ears. Magne wasn’t the most dangerous of the group, but she was still powerful. Up close, her Quirk was lethal. She had a reputation for being one of the more "friendly" members of the League, sure; but she was still a villain. Still dangerous. And if he showed up.. Izuku's blood went ice cold at the thought. If Shigaraki was nearby.. Izuku would most definitely be dead before he could even blink.

“How much?” asked a second man beside her. He held a strange looking weapon; definitely black market tech. Izuku would bet that's what this deal is about.

“Seven thousand,” Magne said flatly, watching him with crossed arms.

“That’s not what we agreed to!” The man snapped, visibly irritated, like he was about to throw a tantrum.

“Well, Shigaraki decided to up the price. Take it or leave it. You can try finding someone else who’ll give you this kind of firepower.”

Izuku squinted, trying to get a better look at the weapon. He had no idea what it did, but it definitely wasn’t legal.

“But-” the man started, only to be cut off sharply.

“You either take it or leave it, Donny,” Magne warned, her tone final.

“I want to test it,” Donny insisted. “To make sure it actually works.”

Izuku knew he should leave.

He should have already been gone.

Hell, he should've called the cops the second he saw her; but his legs wouldn’t move, his body frozen, crouched in the grass like a deer in headlights.

Something told him he’d just stumbled onto something far bigger than he could comprehend, maybe even more then the files he found in his father’s briefcase.

Something was coming, something huge.

And Izuku had not a damn clue on how to stop it.

Magne rolled her eyes, then yanked the weapon out of Donny’s hands. "Fine. But you’re paying for the demo shot too."

She fiddled with the device for a second. It resembled a pistol; only bulkier, covered in strange metal plates and tubes that looked stitched together with duct tape and hope.

Izuku’s stomach twisted. Whatever that weapon was, it looked like it could explode with just one wrong breath. But he did recognize the tech, at least part of it. Inside the metal and tubes, there was a glowing light, one he knew very well. There was a battle in New York a couple years ago, one involving the Avengers, and the cleanup was.. a lot. It was an alien attack, and they had tons of weapons, weapons known as Chitauri tech. That glowing light definitely came from the leftover weaponry in that battle, now cobbled into something unstable and dangerous.

Izuku’s thoughts were interrupted as Magne pointed the weapon casually toward an old rusted car sitting near the bottom of the hill.

Without warning, the weapon let out a low hum then a shot of blue purple blue energy ripped through the air, slamming into the car. The whole vehicle shook, groaned, and then half of it vanished in a flash of crackling sparks, leaving behind only a smoldering front half.

Izuku slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from making a noise. The car was completely gone. Gone.

"See?" Magne said, grinning wide. "It works, more than works."

Donny backed up a step, looking spooked. "I-I thought it was just a blaster! That thing.. It’s dangerous! Far too dangerous!”

Magne shrugged. "You asked for us to build this, so we did."

"No! This is different, stronger, then what I asked for! Someone could die using that!" Donny stammered.

"Yeah," Magne said, slightly assumed and annoyed. "That’s kinda the whole point."

Izuku’s heart pounded against his ribs. Whatever he just witnessed; he definitely wasn’t supposed to.

"I’m not taking that! What if it kills me!" Donny shouted, completely panicked and losing control.

"So you're not buying it?" Magne asked, her voice cool and unimpressed.

Donny shook his head rapidly, almost frantically. "No! You're crazy! You’re all crazy!" He turned on his heel and ran, panic propelling him forward. But he only made it a few feet before the hum of the weapon started up behind him.

Izuku barely had time to register what was happening before Magne raised the weapon and aimed it squarely at Donny’s back.

"What a waste," she muttered.

The blast came instantly. A searing beam of energy tore through Donny, his scream ripping through the air as his body twisted and contorted. His face melted first, the skin disintegrating into liquid before the rest of his form collapsed inward, crumbling into a steaming, bloodied heap.

Izuku couldn’t move. His entire body trembled as he stared, wide eyed and horrified, at the place where Donny once stood. There was nothing left now; nothing but a glistening puddle of blood and silence.

Without another word, Magne holstered the weapon and walked off into the night, disappearing like nothing had happened.

Izuku was left crouched behind the tree, mind racing and stomach churning, struggling to comprehend what he’d just witnessed.

What. The. Fuck.

—

The rest of the walk to Kirishima’s house was uneventful; thank the gods.

Izuku knew villains existed. He knew they caused chaos, destruction, and pain. But this was the first time he’d ever seen one up close, really seen one. Not from a distance, not on the news; right there, right in front of him.

He should’ve called the police. He should’ve called someone. But his body locked up the moment the weapon fired, and even after, his limbs stayed frozen. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even reach for his phone.

And now? There was nothing to show for what he saw. No evidence. Just a memory and a pit in his stomach. Who would even believe him? Would he believe someone if they came up to him and told him? Probably not

He sighed, trying to shove the thoughts out of his mind. Right now, he had a more immediate problem; Katsuki.

He was probably already inside and definitely already pissed. There was no way he didn’t know about the “partner project” by now, or you know.. The whole thing completely embarrassed him in front of his team part. And if for some unknown reason he wasn't mad, he would be soon.

Izuku glanced up at the house at the end of the driveway. Cars lined the curb and driveway; everything from beat up sedans to a Porsche.

Not just any Porsche.

Katsuki’s Porsche.

Izuku still didn’t understand why Auntie bought him such an expensive car. Who gives a teenager something worth more than the entire student parking lot? And Katsuki didn’t even drive it half the time; he still took the train.

Why the hell does one take the train when they have a goddamn Porsche?

Katsuki never made sense to him, not anymore at least. Once upon a time, Izuku could read him like a book, but that was years ago. That version of Katsuki; the one he knew as a kid was gone.

He exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers to his temples. So much had happened in the last twenty four hours, things that could easily break a person. But somehow, he was still standing.

Barely.

As he got closer to the house, he could already hear the bass of the music bumping inside. What kind of music, he didn’t know and he didn’t really care. He wasn’t used to parties, and to make things better he had no idea what to expect.

All he hoped was that this night didn’t end horribly, or anything like the absolute cluster fuck couple days he's had.

Katsuki

Katsuki was sitting on the couch, silently watching Kirishima and Denki go head to head in a chaotic game of beer pong, both of them drinking like it was a competition.

“Come on, Bakubro! Just one drink!” Kirishima grinned, holding out a beer with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t fucking drink,” Katsuki muttered, taking a sip from the bottle Sero had given him earlier, one he swore didn’t have anything in it.

“Oh come on, Kacchan! You need to loosen up!” Denki flopped onto the couch beside him, throwing his legs across Katsuki’s lap like they belonged there.

Katsuki glared at him. “I told you to stop calling me that.” He shoved Denki’s legs off without hesitation.

“Damn, someone’s extra grumpy tonight,” Denki whined, moving his feet to the table instead.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, jaw tightening. He hadn’t even wanted to come to this party. He hated parties, even loathed them. It was loud, annoying, and way past the time he usually crashed. But Kirishima had begged him, over and over, until he just gave in to shut him up.

Kirishima took the chair across from them, glancing at Katsuki with slight hesitation. “Is this about earlier?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

Before Katsuki could answer, or tell him to shut the hell up, Mina bounded over and dropped onto Kirishima’s lap.

“Hey, guys!” she chirped, flashing a bright smile as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Kirishima lit up immediately, looking up at her like she’d just saved the party. “You came,” he said, already pulling her close with both arms securely wrapped around her waist.

Katsuki groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Ugh, seriously? Don’t start with the PDA. No one wants to see you get your dick wet.”

Kirishima’s entire face flushed a deep crimson, while Mina just bursted out laughing.

“Oh, come on, Bakubabe,” she said with a playful grin. “Put the claws away and just relax a little.”

Katsuki scoffed and leaned back on the couch, arms crossed like he was guarding a vault. “I am relaxed,” he lied through his teeth, jaw clenched like always.

Across the room, Sero was lighting up again, the scent of weed mixing with cheap beer and the sugar sick smell of jello shots. He exhaled a slow cloud and grinned over at them, eyes red and dazed. “Dude, Bakugo’s so tense, I think if you poked him he’d shatter like glass.”

Denki let out an obnoxious laugh and nearly tipped off the couch. “Bro, bro, we should get him high. Just once. Just a little bit,” he said, pinching the air like he was holding a grain of rice, then immediately forgot what he was saying.

“No,” Katsuki snapped before he could finish. “And if you touch me with those greasy ass fingers, I’ll break them.”

Mina laughed, sipping whatever neon colored drink she’d found. “Someone’s cranky and sober. Double homicide.”

Kirishima chuckled, rubbing circles on her back. “Let’s just be glad he came, yeah? It’s not every day we drag Bakugo to a party without someone bleeding.”

“That can still be arranged,” Katsuki muttered.

Sero sauntered over and dropped onto the floor in front of them, looking far too chill. “You know, man, you should try just... existing. Like, being at the party, not just in the party. Vibe with it. Go with the flow, y’know?” he said, smiling as he waved his hand like water.

Bakugo stared at him blankly. “The fuck does that even mean?”

Denki burst out laughing again, slapping the couch arm, drink sloshing over the edge. “He’s so high.”

“And you’re so drunk,” Katsuki growled. “How the hell are you even upright?”

Denki raised a finger, swaying. “Determination.” He smirked, putting his hand on his hip, “and tequila.”

Kirishima snorted into his beer, trying not to choke. "You sound like an inspirational poster, bro."

Katsuki groaned, dragging a hand down his face; he regretted every life choice that led him to this couch.

Every. Single. Damn. One.

"Yo," Mina piped up, casually scrolling through her phone. "Is it true that Midoriya shattered the backboard earlier? Someone from the cheer team saw and mentioned it at practice today."

The laughter died down. Kirishima gave her a side glance, while Denki actually managed to focus for once.

Katsuki’s jaw clenched tighter; he didn’t want to talk about what happened. It was humiliating, and it pissed him off.

Sero nodded, lounging deeper into the floor cushions. "Yeah, dude, I was there. It didn’t just shatter; it exploded. Glass flew everywhere."

Katsuki scoffed, nearly snarling. "He got lucky."

"Lucky?" Denki blinked, swaying slightly. "Dude, he threw the ball at your back, danced around you like it was the NBA, then slammed the board into oblivion. That’s not luck; that’s pure talent. Maybe he should join the team."

Katsuki leaned forward, muttering something under his breath. "There’s no way Deku got that strong; he has zero coordination. He’s just trying to get attention."

Kirishima looked at him with a gentler expression. "You know that’s not true, bro." He frowned. "You saw Mido, man. He showed you up."

"Whatever." Katsuki shot him a glare, bitterness darkening his eyes. "He’s just showing off. Like always."

"He wasn’t showing off," Sero said, surprisingly clear for someone as baked as he was. "He was defending that girl you messed with."

Katsuki’s eyes flicked up.

"What girl?" Mina asked.

"He tossed the ball at someone on the dance crew, knocked over the paint, ruined the posters they were working on," Kirishima replied, shrugging.

There was a brief silence. Even the music from the other room seemed to muffle.

"I wasn’t trying to ruin the poster; it just happened," Katsuki muttered, slumping back into the couch as his leg bounced restlessly. This wasn’t a conversation; it felt more like a damn interrogation.

"No one said you meant to," Kirishima offered, taking a sip of his drink. "But maybe just.. apologize next time instead of acting like an ass."

Katsuki didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to the floor. His mind drifted back to the gym; the flash of green hair, the sharpness of those eyes, the glass shattering around them. But what stuck with him most was the look on Deku’s face when he broke the backboard. There was no smugness, no pride. Just shock. Like he didn’t expect that strength from himself.

It made Katsuki wonder what the nerd was hiding.

"He’s different now," Denki said, curling his legs to his chest. "You saw him. He’s stronger. And he’s not scared anymore. Usually he’s rushing to apologize."

Katsuki didn’t reply, but the words echoed in his head. He’s not scared anymore.

A heavy weight pressed on his chest, a foreign feeling tightening in his gut.

He liked the old Izuku; the one who looked up to him, followed him around like a lost puppy. That version made sense. But that was gone. Katsuki wasn’t stupid; something had changed. Izuku had looked him dead in the eye, talked back, outplayed him. He hadn’t dared to push back in years; maybe not ever, but now he had, and it terrified him.

It felt like the floor was shifting beneath him, and he was the only one still trying to stand still.

"I don’t like who he’s becoming," Katsuki muttered, the words bitter and reluctant.

"Or maybe," Kirishima said gently, "you don’t like who you’re becoming now that he’s not beneath you."

Katsuki sat up sharply. The words hit like a slap.

"The hell did you just say?"

Kirishima didn’t flinch. "You heard me." He sighed. "You’ve always used Mido as an excuse to feel strong, to feel better than someone. But now that he’s changing, now that he’s not weak anymore, it’s threatening you. It’s forcing you to look in the mirror."

Katsuki opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come. Deep down, he knew the spiky haired idiot was right. But he didn’t want to admit that. No one liked hearing the truth before they were ready to fucking hear it.

"Maybe he’s not changing into someone new," Mina said, her tone soft. "Maybe this is who he’s always been. Did you ever think of that? Maybe he spent years swallowing it down, hiding it just to survive around you. And now he’s done hiding, maybe he finally realized hiding who he is has done more harm than good, maybe he’s finally decided to start standing up for himself the way he should’ve a long time ago."

Another silence fell.

"Fuck this party," Katsuki muttered, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Kirishima asked, concern knitted in his brows.

"Outside," he growled. "I need air, space. Somewhere that isn’t full of assholes psychoanalyzing me like I’m a goddamn lab rat."

"You mean like... therapy?" Denki mumbled, half passed out.

Katsuki flipped him off without a second glance, then shoved open the back door. Cold air rushed in behind him as he stepped out into the night’s quiet atmosphere.

He didn’t know if he hated Deku.

But he sure as hell didn’t understand him anymore.

And somehow, that felt worse.

Hate had always been simple; clean in a way. Sharp edges, straight lines, predictable.

Katsuki could deal with hate. Hate was something he could aim, throw, even letting it burn so hot it ate through everything in its path. But confusion? Confusion was messy. It felt like drowning, desperate and disorienting. You thrash for something, anything, to pull you back to the surface. You know the air is there, close enough to imagine, but just out of reach. And in those moments, all you want is one more breath of that crisp, familiar air you once took for granted, before your lungs give out, and the dark finally drags you under.

And that’s where Deku had him. Unstable.

For years, Katsuki carried this heavy, festering hate for the other boy.

Maybe it just started as fear, or jealousy, maybe it was shame. Hate was easier to name, so he stuck with it. He clung to the notion like a second skin, layered with old wounds and misplaced anger, and for a long time, it gave him purpose. It gave him focus. The world was unfair and cruel, and somehow, Izuku Midoriya was always at the center of that storm, unaffected in ways Katsuki couldn’t understand.

They were friends once. No, they were more than friends. They were inseparable. Like yin and yang, polar opposites finding solace in each other.

Katsuki remembers the way Deku used to look at him, like he could do no wrong, like he was his hero, his protector. And at some point, that look shifted. Katsuki once saw worship and awe in the others eyes, but it all changed in the matter of minutes. Now all he saw was pity and disappointment.

Instead of talking to Izuku, figuring out why he felt this way, he burned every damn bridge, forever cutting off his need for the other to be around him.

He made Izuku the target, called him names, pushed him down, made it known to the world that Deku was worthless. Even though deep down, Katsuki didn’t believe that. But the act became a habit, the habit became a cycle, then turned into ritual.. A routine.

It got to the point where Katsuki didn’t even know why he did it anymore. The rage wasn’t even real half the time, it was just what came next. Almost like muscle memory.

He saw Izuku and his fists curled, his mouth opened and moved on autopilot.

It felt good, in a twisted, sick kind of way. Not because it made him proud, but because it made the world make sense.

Hurting Izuku became the way he kept himself from drowning, from dealing with his own emotions.

But no matter how many times he tore him down; physically, emotionally, completely.. Deku came back.

Every. Single. Time.

Sometimes he would with tears in his eyes, sometimes limping from whatever Katsuki did, or sometimes he would just be quiet.. Just watch him. But every single damn time he always came back.

And Katsuki hated him for it.

Not because he was weak, but because he was strong in all the ways Katsuki wasn’t, all the ways he couldn’t be. Because he forgave, because he endured, because he kept looking at Katsuki like he saw something worth saving, because no matter what he did or how far he went Izuku never stopped chasing him. And Katsuki couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand that he never gave up no matter the horrible odds.

There was a twisted knot in his chest he couldn’t undo, a tornado of a mess that was full of guilt, resentment, and something deeper he didn’t have a name for or just didn’t want to name.

And no matter how many times he screamed at himself to let it go, to let him go, he couldn't let the past die, he couldn’t stop feeling, couldn’t stop remembering, couldn’t stop caring..

He didn’t want to care, he wanted it to be simple. He wanted to go back to when he could say, I hate him, and believe it.
But now.. he couldn’t.

Katsuki hated that the second Izuku finally stood his ground, the bitterness he’d carried for years began slipping away; as if it had never truly belonged there.

And that might just be the worst part.