Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ghosts posed quite the conundrum in a world filled with quirks.

Since the dawn of humans, people have tried to conceptualise what happened after death. Some societies came up with ghosts. When a person passed on, they stayed tethered to the earth, in a form invisible, intangible to those who breathed.

Throughout the ages, the belief in ghosts dwindled. Many have thrown ghosts in the corner full of other supernatural beings. Those that humanity has come up with, but that have no proof of existence.

With the appearance of quirks – superpowers once unreachable by man – ghosts were forgotten. They existed in media, as fictional concepts used for storytelling. However, their impact on society has been widely ignored, with the dominant focus being on quirks.

Propositions for the afterlife have changed, after all, it was much too complex for simple, fictional creatures.

Nobody believed in the supernatural. Nobody believed in ghosts.

Except for the Midoriya family.

Inko has always known there was something wrong with her Izuku. Since he was a baby, his behaviour wasn’t that of a normal newborn. When she would lay him down to play, he would reach out his hands this way and that. Sometimes, he reached for Inko, which she delighted in. Sometimes he grabbed at thin air.

At night, when Inko laid in her bed, vigilant, Izuku would cry. She would stand up, begin her trip to his room, yet, before she made it, he would stop crying. Inko would still check on him, but her baby was already back asleep.

These weren’t enough for Inko to truly worry, she just saw them as weird behaviourisms. She’d frequently share these little moments with her dear friend, Bakugou Mitsuki. The other woman found it humorous, so Inko followed her lead.

Inko was proud of her little Izuku, he began speaking much faster than his peers. It was a curious development, yet nothing concerning. However, with his mastery of language, Izuku has begun speaking to himself a lot. Or, rather, speaking to thin air.

She would hear him having full conversations with somebody that didn’t exist. There would be full pauses in his speech, as if another person was responding. It wasn’t akin to a child creating stories in his head, so Inko grew stressed.

Mitsuki was also quite perplexed by this revelation. They sat down once, to think the situation through properly. The best explanation they came up with was imaginary friends. Even though Izuku would have conversations about things Inko knew he didn’t previously know about.

Izuku, eventually, started learning how to read and write. This skill, as the one previous, he also caught onto pretty fast. Inko would get reports of his brilliance from teachers. She could leave him alone to do his homework, and he would get full marks.

In fact, he excelled so far ahead of his peers. Izuku knew how to write words he has never learned. Grammar his teachers haven’t yet even gone over. Inko debated whether he has learned it on the internet. But, she knew, she knew for a fact, that the only thing Izuku watched online were heroes.

At that point, she has truly begun to panic. She didn’t know as much about her own son as she thought she did. Her son, who knew things ahead of being told about them, and who spoke to imaginary people.

It terrified her.

Was there something wrong with her son? Did she do something wrong? She asked Mitsuki, the woman who has kept her sane all these years. Maybe Izuku had a sentient quirk? Inko could feel some weight of her worry slip away.

Thus, Inko decided to take her son to a Quirk specialist, hoping for some answers. Izuku, for his part, was excited. He was so happy when his friend got his quirk, they have bonded over being heroes since the two could talk. So, it only makes sense that the boy would be beyond stoked to hear about his own quirk.

They both had their hopes crushed that day.

Izuku had cried the rest of that day, choking through his tears as he got some food down at dinner. Inko saw how her son’s hopes and dreams of being a hero were ruined, buried in the dirt of being diagnosed quirkless.

Inko herself was stumped. Her theory of Izuku’s weird behaviour was completely disproved. It was nigh impossible for the boy to have a quirk with that additional joint. Her paranoia came back full force. What could she do now? She couldn’t help her kid if she didn’t know what the problem was.

More years went by, and Izuku displayed more weird behaviour. When he entered school, she knew he wasn’t being treated the best by his peers. Quirkless people never were. His teachers reported his lack of friends to her, as well. But Izuku always came back content, saying he hung out with his friends. She was glad he had somebody, she just didn’t know who, and that bothered her.

When she finally got the courage to ask her son about these supposed friends, a six-year-old Izuku said they were ghosts. Inko’s heart almost gave out at this revelation. She couldn’t deny it didn’t cross her mind, in her years of paranoia, but she found it hard to believe.

In the following months, Inko put all her efforts into getting her boy some help. She contacted child psychologists and psychiatrists. Explained to them that her son is experiencing hallucinations. Why hasn’t she thought of that earlier? Well, it was a harrowing thought for a mother.

They performed all manners of tests on him. From brain scans to simple questionnaires. In the end, they vaguely landed on psychosis. Nobody could decide on anything specific; none of his symptoms seemed to align with what they had at their disposal.

Izuku was not dealing with it all well. The boy was always scared of hospitals and the such, saying there were a lot of distressed ghosts there. Adding all the invasive questions and procedures, he seemed shaken whenever they came back home.

Inko felt horrible. It was because of her that her son had to go through all this hassle. And the boy was only six. The only thing that kept her going was the thought that this was helping him. She would hug her son and cry with him at night, seeing his distress.

She thought it finally ended when they prescribed him medication. Izuku was very against it, saying it’s just ghosts and he wouldn’t stop seeing them. But upon his mother’s insistence, he caved. He saw his mother cry, wanting what’s best for him, and he caved. But it only made things worse.

It didn’t help him at all with the hallucinations. He would still see his ghosts. But he got physically unwell, too. They both knew the medication might have side effects, but there was no promised improvement coming, either. Even the next few medications they trialled saw no improvements.

Inko gave up after the fourth one.

Her seven-year-old son came to her, after having laid in bed with a migraine for two days, tears in his eyes, begging her to stop giving him the pills. He sobbed, promising to never talk to ghosts again, that he would stop being weird for her. She hugged him, cried with him, as her kid told her that he never meant to worry her, that he never wanted to be that way.

That day, Inko realised she failed Izuku as a mother. She realised that, all these years, she let her paranoia stop her from caring for her son the way she was supposed to. Her son, a seven-year-old, was begging her, sobbing, telling her he was sorry he was born this way.

She tried to comfort Izuku the best she could, through her own sorrowful tears of guilt. Inko told him that she was sorry. She was sorry for how she treated him. Promised him she would do better. She told him he doesn’t have to stop just because of her. She told him he didn’t do anything wrong, and that he never could.

That day, Inko also realised that ghosts were, in fact, real. Izuku, her son, has actually been seeing ghosts from the day he was born. She still felt the paranoia, ghosts being real wasn’t a pleasant thought for her, but she would do anything to make sure Izuku never felt ashamed around her. She would hide her fear for his sake.

After they have calmed down, Inko made them both tea, promising Izuku that he didn’t have to take the medicine any more, and that she wouldn’t force him into more tests. She gave him some ice cream – his favourite flavour – and asked him about the ghosts he talked to.

He seemed to perk up at the request, even though he still looked really shaken and uncertain. Those weren’t emotions one should have to see on a seven-year-old kid. And Inko practically forced those emotions onto him.

Ghost after ghost, Izuku started to brighten up. He shared stories of his friends at the playground, as well as the nice teens and adults that helped him study. This did, definitely, explain how Izuku learned so fast, although she knew her kid was a smart one, as well. Extra help did go a long way.

Before she sent him to bed that night, she hesitantly told him to keep his ability to speak to ghosts hidden. She didn’t want to make him feel worse, especially as she saw his small smile fall slightly. But she knew this could be dangerous for him. He was already being othered for not having a quirk, and some teachers have been coming to her with concerns over his mental well-being.

He was a kid, so it was easier for her to tell people her son simply had imaginary friends. It was more socially acceptable for a kid to have imaginary friends than a kid who could see and talk to ghosts. And she knew it would make it difficult for him to make friends, but he didn’t need life-time friends yet – like she has in Mitsuki. She didn’t want ghosts to ruin her son’s chance at getting real friends.

Izuku hesitated, but he nodded, promising not to tell anyone, to hide his ability when he was in public. It hurt him, she could see that, but she knew it was for the best.

Izuku has been able to see ghosts since he was born. They told him as such, since he couldn’t remember that far back. It was a normal part of life for him.

Despite their slightly different appearance to humans – they had an aura around them, like a flame that warps its surrounding – Izuku was unable to differentiate them. As a child, he simply thought everyone was able to see these ghosts that he didn’t know were ghosts.

He was very young when he first realised they were not visible to others. He was watching some hero cartoon with Kacchan, when a ghost sat beside them in the living room. Izuku remembered how Kacchan was utterly confused at him waving at nobody.

The ghost was Yamaguchi Kiyoko. A nice, older lady who lived in the apartment some time before the Midoriyas. It was an important place for her, as she shared it with her daughter after her husband passed away, so she stayed there even after death.

Other ghosts have visited their house, of course. How could they not once they heard of a child that can see them. He must have been quite the spectacle for them. That was, however, before he was able to establish boundaries, although most ghosts were nice, and stopped assholes from intruding.

Some of his most memorable guests were a group of dead physicists. People do not stop being curious, even after death. They were intrigued, asking question after question. Izuku couldn’t give answers to them, being much too young and stupid.

They came back, years later, and even shared some scientific knowledge with him. Many other well-studied ghosts came to see Izuku, a fact that was very beneficial to his grades. It made Izuku curious about the world, excited to learn.

He was eager to listen. The ghosts were quick to realise this. He made so many friends, met so many cool, interesting people. People from eras long gone, civilisations gone to time. Scientists, artists, travellers. And other children, who were like him.

Once his mother showed her dislike of ghosts, Izuku had to say goodbye to many of his friends. Ghosts often stayed tethered to places, or people important to them. He couldn’t speak to them any more, unless Izuku was definitely sure that no other living person was around.

He did it, mostly, because he didn’t want those pills again. When he was young, at least, nowadays, he did it because his mother was right. People did tend to stare at him funny when he talked to, what they perceived as, thin air.

Inside the comfort of his own home, he could talk to anybody he wanted. Albeit, he tried not to do so around his mother. He was aware how paranoid she was, with the knowledge that people who she couldn’t see were in her house.

Izuku could spend hours listening to Yamaguchi. She was a very wise woman, and had many stories from her long life. When Izuku was seeing doctor after doctor, Yamaguchi became a steady presence.

She would sing him to sleep, sit by him when he had a migraine. She even accompanied him to his appointments, although she never left the house otherwise. Quickly, she became a grandmotherly figure for Izuku.

Miyamoto Yuki was a later addition to their household. She appeared when Izuku was nine, having heard of the boy who could see ghosts on one of her travels. Yuki has stayed with them, quickly developing a sibling bond with Izuku.

She died when she was eighteen, before the first quirk was born. She had dyed, blue hair, and described her style as decora – even though her outfit lacked the accessories, which she often lamented about.

Yuki died in a plane crash, which she liked to brag and laugh about. Many ghosts exhibited similar behaviours. Older ghosts have had a long time to process the trauma of their death, leaving them with a story to tell.

Izuku was lucky to have someone like Yuki around. Having an older sister, in a world that hated Izuku, was like a breath of fresh air. She made him laugh, when the doom and gloom of his life got to him.

He appreciated her company so much. She would follow him to school, or to the store. She didn’t care if he didn’t speak to her, she understood. The stress was at least bearable, whenever she was around.

Sadly, it being bearable, didn’t make it pleasant. Izuku still had to go to school full of people that hated him. He would walk through the halls, his peers either ignoring him, or sneering, some trying to trip him up.

When he would walk into the classroom, he would be called out for being late by the teacher, even though he always arrived early. Some days, his desk would be covered in insults. Sometimes, he would be able to find a spider lily or two.

His classmates would throw pencils and insults at him. They also liked to steal his notes, usually just to bin or ruin them. On some occasions, when the teacher was particularly cruel, the students were allowed to use their quirks.

Izuku was tired of it, so he kept his head down. If he was feeling particularly brave that day, he would retaliate, but he only even gave it his all when somebody else was being picked on.

Yuki, on the other hand, would show her anger, usually by throwing an insult or the middle finger. The quirkless forums he frequented had much of the same reactions. Both anger and resignation. Bullying was a part of their life, but so was the righteous anger.

As he sat in his chair, Yuki stood beside him. She looked over his shoulder at his notes, which were all over the place. Some were about the lesson, some about heroes – especially Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods whom he caught that morning. Interspersed amongst the notes were random doodles.

Izuku was dreading the last bell. Due to their home-room teacher deciding to be mean, the whole class knew of Izuku’s plans of applying to UA. Kacchan, therefore, was also privy to the information.

After the show he put on in class, Kacchan was likely to have another outburst before the end of the day. Yuki could feel his anxious energy, and in turn, he could feel Yuki’s own. Kacchan wasn’t one to do anything drastic, but anything from his once-best friend hurt.

Once everyone left the classroom, Izuku was left behind with Kacchan and two of his lackeys. Izuku didn’t care to remember their names, and he knew neither did Kacchan. They walked up to his desk, making Yuki bare her teeth at them, though they couldn’t see.

“Safe to say,” Kacchan began, snatching Izuku’s notebook, “You won’t need this shit in the future.”

As he spoke, he positioned the book in-between his palms. Izuku couldn’t look away as sparks flew, and smoke rose from the paper pages. He had no time to react, before Kacchan threw the smoking notebook out of the window. His lackeys laughed.

“You won’t be applying to UA, after all,” Kacchan said, leaning dangerously close to Izuku’s face.

Izuku’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened. A delayed reaction to his notebook being destroyed. Yuki was seething beside him, jaw clenched, fists shaking at her sides. Izuku began feeling an itch of irritation at Kacchan’s words.

“A useless Deku like you won’t be ruining my chances at being the first from this shithole to get into UA,” Kacchan ground out angrily, gripping Izuku’s shoulder, “Ya hear me?”

The irritation further burrowed its way into Izuku’s being. His eyes furrowed with how much he wanted to push back with the same force. He knew how much he wanted this to be a back-and-forth, yet, truthfully, he was scared.

The lackeys laughed again, at his silence, his cowardice. Kacchan scrunched his face up. He took Izuku’s silence as acceptance, or the fear that it was. He took his hand away, and turned his back to Izuku, making his way to the door.

“If you want to be a hero that bad,” Kacchan hesitated before the door, “Hope for a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof.”

Izuku was alone again. Left staring at the closed door, wishing for a different outcome. Yuki sighed beside him, letting out her anger. Only then, did Izuku notice that the shoulder of his uniform was slightly singed.

“If only he was right,” he whispered.

Yuki scrunched up her eyebrows, but didn’t comment. He sluggishly grabbed his bag and left the classroom. He had to find his notebook, it was quite special to him. Hero Analysis For the Future #13.

As he walked, he thought about Kacchan’s words. They weren’t hurtful, they just mirrored his own hopes. If only it was as easy as reincarnation. But Izuku knew a ghostly life awaited him, with the same thoughts and feelings.

Once outside, it wasn’t hard to find the notebook. It landed in a pond. Izuku hoped the notebook didn’t hit any of the fish. It was slightly singed on the outside, but everything inside was still legible, but if not a little wet.

Izuku sighed. A sad yet relieved sound. Kacchan could have done much more damage to the notebook. Whether he held back, or simply didn’t care enough, Izuku found himself thankful.

A cynical thought popped into his head, then, “He should be careful how he speaks. If I actually jumped he could be charged with something.”

Yuki grabbed onto his hand and squeezed, a comforting pressure. Izuku let himself squeeze back, knowing the school grounds were bound to be empty at that point.

He knew Yuki was worried, especially with how flippantly he spoke of the topic. It was nice, however, to just stand beside her, in silence. Her presence helped him think clearer, which was much more helpful than her trying to say anything.

They began walking home, side by side, but no longer holding hands. Izuku calmed down significantly by the time they reached the tunnel. Enough to be ready to start a light conversation with Yuki.

Before he was able to, however, he heard a rattling from behind. Or maybe below. He looked back, just as Yuki also noticed something amiss. Suddenly, a manhole cover flew into the sky, and out from the sewers spewed out a fountain of sewage.

Instead of settling, the sewage took form, and two eyes made eye contact with Izuku’s wide ones. He began taking steps back, all the while fighting against his stiff muscles. The sludge made its way towards him, much too fast for Izuku to get away.

Yuki shouted, the sludge said something, but all Izuku could feel was cold surrounding him. His lungs very quickly went from hyperventilating to being filled with a substance that definitely shouldn’t be there.

His eyes slammed shut. Clawed hands trying to find purchase, but the sludge refused to provide a grip.

He was being suffocated.

He was drowning.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t think.

The world started to fade, but right before he lost consciousness he heard, faintly, “I am here.”

He always thought meeting All Might would be...different.

All it took was one question. Just one question to have his hopes and dreams crushed.

Worst of all, deep inside, Izuku knew All Might was correct. Without a quirk, Izuku had no chance of standing against a villain. There was a reason, after all, why no pro hero on the planet was quirkless.

For the second time that day, Izuku was left staring at a closed door, only thought on his mind being whether jumping was actually the solution.

Nobody believed in him. And they were all right.

The doctor.

His mother.

Kacchan.

All Might.

Izuku was selfish in thinking he would be the first quirkless to become a hero. Not for the first time, he debated giving up. Except, it has never truly been this tempting before. His eyes moved towards the edge of the roof.

The morbid hilarity of a pro hero leaving a quirkless teen on a rooftop, alone, hit him. But it wasn’t the time. Not for Izuku, not yet.

Yuki walked up to him, bumped her shoulder into his and interlocked their arms. She was smiling. It was a soft upturn of her lips, it held comfort, hope, and a promise. It made Izuku want to smile back, so he did.

“Come on,” she said quietly, “We’re already late.”

They made their way down the winding staircase of the tall building. Perfect height to let Izuku think for a bit. About a change of career paths. What to tell his mother once he sees her next.

“What would I do, if I can’t be a pro hero?” Izuku asked the air more than Yuki.

“I think you would find a way to be a hero,” she replied anyway, “You might not be a pro. But there’s other avenues. You would find a way, I imagine.”

Could he become a vigilante? A hero illegal in the eye of the law. If Izuku found himself desperate enough, maybe he could consider that path. Currently, he needed to rest. Get home and rest.

After he made a fool of himself, that is. As they walked down the pavement, an explosion made them halt. Izuku forgot about everything else, and booked it towards where he heard the commotion.

It looked like an oil spill, fire everywhere. Heroes herding civilians away. And in the middle was Kacchan. Struggling for breath just like Izuku had been, not even an hour prior. The sludge, that villain, was somehow able to escape All Might’s clutches.

Before he thought anything through, Izuku ran in. Weaving through the civilians, dodging the heroes. As soon as he locked eyes with Kacchan, he knew. He knew what he had to do.

Kacchan was too important to him. They were friends once, and Izuku still admired the other, even if Kacchan found him deplorable. He still remembered the pain, the feeling of air being replaced with fluid. Izuku couldn’t let his friend experience that, too.

He could feel Yuki trying to grab at him, trying to pull him back. They both knew the effort was futile. She was shouting something at him, but all Izuku could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, his raspy breaths as his body strained to move faster.

Izuku couldn’t regret what he did. Even as Yuki held onto him for dear life. Even as Kacchan refused the notion of needing help from a Deku. Even as the heroes lectured him, told him off for his recklessness.

The irritation came back again. The heroes didn’t do anything. There were so many of them, but all they did was crowd control. Waiting for somebody else, more suited for saving a life. And one did come. All Might eventually appeared, and saved Kacchan from the sludge.

Kacchan was being looked over by medics, while the heroes were talking to the news reporters. Izuku saw his opportunity to leave, so he took it. The day kept getting worse and worse, and Izuku just wanted the comfort of his own bed, and a shower.

“See,” Yuki said, “You’d find a way to be a hero on your own.”

As encouraging as the words were, Yuki couldn’t hide the stress from her voice. Her nerves were frayed, after all that she had to experience Izuku go through and do. Yet she still found the energy to reassure him.

Izuku couldn’t find it in himself to respond. Yuki understood, though. They’ve done this song and dance before.

They were so close to their house, only a neighbourhood away. When, suddenly, Kacchan ran up to them. He was breathing heavily, probably having ran all the way from the scene. He looked...worse for wear, but Izuku surely wasn’t much better.

“Don’t think I needed to be saved by a quirkless loser like you!” he shakily shouted.

This was familiar territory for Izuku. Out of the multitudes of things that happened that day, Kacchan yelling about being better than him was the least unusual. It didn’t make him feel any better, but it felt like he hasn’t just been attacked by a villain, or had his dreams crushed.

Despite the sun setting in the background, it was as if school has just let out. A typical day of Kacchan lashing out, neither of them being attacked by a villain, and not having met All Might. Izuku would go back home, have dinner with his mother and fall asleep to some heroes interview.

Now, he wanted to do none of that, except finally being able to make it home. He didn’t want food, he’s had enough sludge to last a life time. He didn’t want to face his mother, she would be too worried. He wanted to face-plant into his bed and not come out for at least a week.

Kacchan finally finished shouting. Realistically, Izuku knew it hasn’t taken long, but he was tired, and in a lot of pain. His lungs screamed at him. He took the silence as his cue to really look at the other, to look him in the eyes.

Furrowed brows, a trembling lip, slump to his shoulders. Kacchan wasn’t faring any better mentally than Izuku was. The sparkle in his eye, the one people would mistake for his anger, Izuku easily read for the fear it was.

“He...sure is something,” Yuki said.

As she did, Kacchan turned tail and walked away, having said his piece. Izuku inhaled deeply, which, inadvertently, caused him to cough. Once it finished, he sighed, he was already over this.

“At least,” Izuku spoke slowly, “He still has the fight in him.”

Yuki shook her head at him, looking mighty exhausted for a ghost. The sun was setting behind her, casting a lazy golden glow everywhere. The wind has picked up, a late afternoon chill settling in.

A strong gust of wind hit him, unsettling if it wasn’t for the All Might that appeared with it. Seeing the hero wasn’t as exciting as the first time, but he still took Izuku’s breath away. Fear and anticipation both gripped at his heart.

All Might, now in his weaker form, began praising Izuku for his heroism. Suddenly, this wasn’t the hero who told him he’s weak, but a hero who was able to give him an opportunity to become great.

Suddenly, Izuku had the chance to become more than a useless Deku. He was presented with a quirk. A power that could let him save lives. A power that could make him matter, that could make him useful.

It made him feel like...everything was worth it.

Chapter Text

“I don’t really like him, Izuku,” Yuki voiced with a concerned frown.

“He offered me a quirk!” he rebutted.

A week after their faithful encounter, Izuku was finally meeting up with All Might for their first training session. He has spent the entire week either hyper with excitement or spiralling about his self worth. At the end, the excitement has mostly won the fight, if only because Izuku forced it to.

“After he told you you can’t be a hero,” she threw her hands out wide.

She said all this as if there was something obvious he was missing. He scrunched his face up, not understanding what exactly Yuki wanted him to see. Noticing his expression, she grumbled.

It was silent again, so Izuku took the time to pack the filled water bottle he previously put on his desk into his backpack. His room was a mess, but he was willing to forget that for now. He had more important things to get to.

“He disrespected you. He made you feel like shit,” she added, more calmly than before.

“Yuki, he’s offering to train me, I can’t pass up an opportunity like that. I finally have a chance to be a hero.”

She turned away from him, failing to hide the sad look that appeared, “I’m not telling you to stop, just be careful, alright? I’m worried.”

Izuku smiled, “I will. But you have to be there to keep me in line. Come on.”

Sighing, Yuki dropped the subject. As she passed him, she bumped their shoulders together. A silent show of comfort, that she wasn’t angry with him. She was simply upset, Izuku knew his bad mood took a toll on her own.

They entered the living room, where Yamaguchi was watching TV. Ghosts had slight control over small items, thus pressing buttons on the remote was no problem for the woman. Due to the fact, Izuku was comfortable leaving the house with some electronics on.

His mother wasn’t home, which was for the better, because he didn’t know how to explain his absence to her, yet. He’ll find the time to brainstorm before she, inevitably, asked. She tended to trust him, and his judgement, despite how sick with worry she always was.

“Are you leaving, dear?” Yamaguchi asked.

Izuku nodded vigorously in response.

Yamaguchi smiled, “I’m happy if you’re happy. But be careful, dear.”

“I’ll try,” he said, finishing putting his shoes on by the door.

Izuku and Yuki bid their goodbyes before leaving. All Might decided they would meet up at the nearby beach. A quiet, rarely visited site due to the land fill it became. Years of local neglect made the beach unwelcome for anything that wasn’t scrap.

It wasn’t a long walk, and once they arrived it wasn’t hard to spot the tall figure of All Might. Although, the slouch and lack of his characteristic gelled up hair made him stand out much less. It made for a look Izuku would have to get used to, after seeing the man only in his prime for years.

“What do you think those are?” Yuki asked, nodding towards the shadows behind the hero.

Izuku noticed them before, when they first met, but didn’t give them much thought, his mind preoccupied with other matters. The shadows – ones that were definitely human in shape – were trailing behind All Might, fanning out from his feet.

Where other people would surely just see the hero’s typical shadow, Izuku saw a few, each different. Additionally, they were much darker than a normal shadow. He wouldn’t be surprised if they turned out to be almost opaque.

He knew they didn’t appear on video, meaning they must’ve been ghostly in nature. What exactly they were, however, would have to remain a mystery to Izuku. With nobody to ask, he had practically no way of finding out, unless All Might himself ever explained them to him, if he was even aware of their existence.

The man in question finally spotted him, waving at him with a wide smile, “Young Midoriya, good to see you!”

Soon after, they got down to business. All Might had him test his strength stamina and speed. Izuku tried not to care about how out-of-shape he was. He was rarely active, most of his exercise coming from PE class, where he would inevitably have to run away from the kids trying to pummel him with balls.

He was determined, however. After all, All Might was counting on him, so he had to work hard. Izuku would give it his all to prove to his hero that he was worthy, that he was the right choice.

Through the hours, many ghosts came and went. The locals liked to check out what Izuku was up to, when he was out and about. He imagined they were quite bored, if this was what they did with their free time. It also must have been quite interesting to see him so out of the norm.

It must have been especially entertaining when All Might got him to drag a fridge, with him on top, using nothing but a few loops of rope tied around him. He failed, obviously, because there were very little people who could genuinely achieve that task.

In spite of how tough the tests were on his body, Izuku found himself enjoying his time at the beach. All Might was quite funny, even more so than he was in interviews, and Izuku soon became comfortable enough to joke around with the hero.

Eventually, the day came to an end, as the sun was only peeking over the horizon. Izuku collapsed on the cooling sand and quickly fished the water bottle out of his backpack, gulping down everything that was left. Yuki plopped down beside him, reaching over to pat him on the back.

“You did well!” All Might said with a thumbs up, “But you need a lot of work.”

Apparently, Izuku ran the risk of exploding if his body wasn’t ready for One for All. Which was a revelation Izuku wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Despite that, it made him even more determined than before.

One for All was an interesting quirk, one that Izuku was eager to ask All Might more about. What caught his attention the most, however, was All Might’s mention of having predecessors.

“Um, how many people had the quirk, before you?” he asked.

“If I remember correctly, there were seven. You are the ninth.”

Izuku quickly cast his gaze behind All Might, at the shadows behind him. He counted the heads. Seven. Was it possible that due to One for All, the ghosts of the predecessors latched onto All Might? But why would they be mere shadows?

“You have ten months until the UA entrance exam,” All Might quickly moved on, “Follow this regimen, clean the beach and you’ll be ready to take on One for All!”

All Might pulled out a stack of pages and presented them to Izuku with a flourish. He took them, scanning through the first few. The next ten months would be hellish, all his meals and sleep were planned out.

Yuki whistled over his shoulder, “That’s killer. I could never.”

“I’ll do my best!” Izuku exclaimed with purpose.

All Might put his hand on Izuku’s shoulder, “That’s the spirit!”

Convincing his mother to follow his meal plan wasn’t too difficult. She knew, for a very long time, that Izuku has wanted to apply for UA, thus explaining to her that he decided to begin a training regimen was simple.

It was much harder to lie to her about training with All Might, however. It wasn’t atypical for him to leave the house often, but he would never spent hours outside the house. Plus, there was a schedule to their meetings, which led his mother to questioning why he would leave the house in a rush.

After a month, her worry seemed to let up. She could see that he came home everyday safe, and he began texting her every hour or so while he was out. It worked in both their favours, he could keep his privacy, whilst his mother knew he wasn’t in any danger. It didn’t stop him from feeling guilty, though.

Two months in, he finally figured out how to rework the regimen so it fit him better. While most of the plan was good, great even, All Might severely overestimated how social Izuku was.

He also scraped away at the time All Might allocated for sleep and study. He was grateful to see that All Might gave him time to study for the written portion of the entrance exam, but frankly, he did not need it that much.

After moving some things around slightly, and adding some more time for training, he created a slot for his usual activities. Like hero hunting, and then writing about the heroes. Most of the time, he looked online for footage of fights, interviews, forum posts.

Occasionally, he would go out for an hour or two, looking for them himself. Despite how dangerous it sounded, nobody even got hurt, unless they were there when the altercation started. Which Izuku never did.

He would wander about, and ask ghosts if they saw anything. In time, the ghosts got used to his antics and looked for him themselves, whenever they spotted something they knew he was interested in.

Much more infrequently, he would go out at night, searching for underground heroes, or vigilantes. He knew those were much more dangerous, which Yuki never let him forget about, but his curiosity always won over.

To Yuki’s relief, he almost never found anything. The underground put a lot of effort into keeping itself secluded, which included the ghosts. Those that hung around those parts of town, had little to no desire to seek Izuku out.

However, that’s one of the only times he would be able to go out while he trains with All Might. He already started a new notebook, the fourteenth in the series, so it would be a waste not to seek out a hero or two.

Thus, on a warm night in June, Izuku strolled down the dimly lit streets, on the look out for anything interesting. He wasn’t expecting much, so it came as a surprise when a ghost called excitedly out to him.

“Hey, hey! I just found some underground fighting some thug, ya wanna see?” they said.

Yuki stepped in front, “Which direction is it?”

The other ghost pointed ahead, to which Yuki nodded and flew ahead. She insisted on scouting it out first, in case it would pose too much of a danger to Izuku. That might have been one of the only times he saw Yuki actually fly, most ghosts didn’t favour it, despite its superior speed.

“Thank you,” Izuku turned to the ghost, “Would you mind leading me to it?”

As they walked, Izuku couldn’t help but feel thrilled at having the chance to see an underground hero at work. It was difficult to find anything about them online, and he most definitely never saw them in person. Being able to actually witness one was special.

“You’ll like this one, fanboy,” Yuki suddenly said as they rounded into an alleyway.

They walked in a little further, up to a bend in the alley. He could hear the fight, so he peeked over the corner. Sure enough, two people were fighting. If Izuku didn’t have the knowledge he has, it would be nigh impossible to tell which of them was the hero.

However, right there, in front of him, was Eraserhead. One of the best underground heroes. Not only was he powerful and had a great quirk, he was possibly one of the only heroes who actively helped the quirkless community.

Izuku has read countless posts of quirkless people being saved by Eraserhead from one hate crime or another. Eraserhead must have, single-handedly, stopped dozens of quirkless people from dying.

He might not be known by the public, but he is nothing if not famous amongst Japan’s quirkless communities.

And there he was, Eraserhead. Izuku pulled out his new notebook – which was already almost halfway filled out – and started writing. The villain had a simple quirk. They were able to create a bubble shield around them, blocking any attack.

Albeit simple, it was clearly powerful, if it was able to block truly anything. A great defensive quirk, yet powerless in a situation where offence was inevitable. Like this one, as Eraserhead could easily erase their quirk.

The thug was light on their feet, though, turning the fight into a cat and mouse chase. Unprepared for that turn of events, they became sloppy in their evasion, as the exhaustion started setting in.

Eraserhead, on the other hand, was clearly banking on that fact. He wasn’t giving it his all, instead letting the enemy tire themselves out. Izuku was curious about that strategy, as the hero’s quirk had to put some strain on his eyes.

Eventually, which wasn’t that long at all, the thug slowed significantly down, letting Eraserhead capture him in hi scarf with little effort. Izuku wondered what material it was made out of. After putting the thug in handcuffs, Eraserhead got his phone out to call the police, Izuku assumed.

As he did so, the hero scanned the area for further threats. He found none, except for Izuku hiding in the shadows, engrossed in writing something in his notebook.

“Izuku!” Yuki shouted, pulling at his arm.

Izuku understood that as his call to run. He wasn’t looking to be caught by a hero. Unfortunately, in his scramble, he lost his purchase on the notebook, letting it fall to the ground. The good news, however, was that Izuku never signed his notebooks, making them impossible to trail back to him – unless the hero really wanted to find him.

If he was lucky, Eraserhead would see that it had no name attached to it, and leave it where he found it, if not, Izuku would just have to write down everything he remembered in a new notebook. In that case, Izuku would have gone through three whole notebooks within only a few months.

He ended up not being lucky, as Yuki came back, having found nothing, the next day. Izuku had to accept his loss, and hope that he doesn’t lose another one the next time he goes out.

Kacchan has been...shockingly silent, since the sludge villain attacked them both. Izuku would go to school and be bullied as normal, except Kacchan wouldn’t participate. No jeers or sneers, or threats.

Even around his lackeys, around whom he always became especially mean, he simply did...nothing. He would direct their attention elsewhere, instead. Called them out for wasting their time and led them away from Izuku.

Now that he stopped antagonising Izuku at school and around his friends, Kacchan just ignored him. As he did whenever they somehow came upon each other, alone. Or when their parents were meeting up.

His mother and the Bakugous knew that the two didn’t have the best of relationships any more. They seem to have accepted the fact, almost a decade on. None of them knew the true extent of how rocky their relationship was, though.

Izuku didn’t want to worry his mother, nor paint Kacchan in a bad light, so he kept the bullying a secret. Kacchan seemingly did the same thing with his own parents. It was one of the mutual agreements they had.

At some point, Izuku has also realised Kacchan has slowly stopped hanging around his lackeys. An interesting development, yet one not entirely out of the blue. Kacchan tended to not like people, even those he hung around with.

He was different in class, too, which Izuku only noticed when one of the teachers commented on his lack of tempter. Before, he didn’t hesitate to call out a teacher if they gave the class incorrect information.

Auntie Mitsuki mentioned, once, that Kacchan was in therapy ever since he was attacked. Izuku wondered if that development correlated with him being suddenly nice. Either way, he was thankful for the change.

Regrettably, Kacchan was the only one to start treating Izuku better. Nobody else got the memo, as he was still welcomed with insults and feet trying to trip him up. Teachers were still hard on him about his grades, and accusing him of cheating.

Over the years, a good smattering of extremely intelligent ghosts have visited Izuku. Many of them scientists, linguists, professionals. Izuku was practically a sponge ready to soak up all of the knowledge they shared with him.

He would be amiss not to call himself smart. He knew not many people could speak four languages fluently, and many more casually. That not many his age could use university level mathematical formulae from memory.

When his teachers realised that his intelligence surpassed that of many of his classmates, which reflected in his grades, they began accusing him of cheating. People rarely believed that quirkless people could be smart, nobody wanted to think they were smarter than the quirked population.

Izuku’s grades suddenly started to plummet, and his mother would get countless phone calls about her son misbehaving, threats of expelling him for continued plagiarism. He kept being held back, and would be forced to take tests in a separate room.

Eventually, the stress of trying to prove to everyone that he wasn’t actually cheating became too much. He stopped caring about completing his tests correctly, only making sure he got enough for a passing grade.

He learned how to give lacklustre answers, and even began bringing his homework late. Worst of all, was that it actually worked. The teachers let up, their remarks getting more and more infrequent. With any new teacher, he would gauge how much they expected from Izuku, and they often left him mostly alone.

At least, his mother didn’t believe his teachers. She wasn’t able to pull him out of school, but he was sure she would have if she could. It was clear that she was saddened to see him give up, but he could visibly see the tension leave her being when she stopped getting those phone calls.

To his luck, UA was none-the-wiser about his true quirk status. Once he inherited One for All, maybe, just maybe, Izuku would be able to give it his all on tests, after so long. Maybe there would be a teacher that praised him for his grades, instead of giving him detention.

“Honey,” his mother began from beside him on the couch, “Are you sure about UA?”

The question snapped him out of his train of thought. He looked to his mother, a furrow to her brow. Neither of them were paying attention to the film playing on the TV, an older All Might documentary.

To the right, on the lone armchair, sat Yamaguchi. Yuki was sitting on the floor by Izuku’s feet. They were all relaxing after a day full of school and work, a time where they would throw something mindless on the TV screen and sit together.

“I haven’t changed my mind, yet,” he sighed.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you. It’s dangerous, and it’s going to be hard, and I don’t want you regretting it when something does happen, and I can’t protect you. And I don’t want you to feel sad when things don’t turn out the way you want them-”

She continued rambling, stuck in her worry, a trait they shared. It was hard hearing his own worried reflected in her mumblings, it made them feel all the more real.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Izuku said loudly, wincing when she looked at him wide-eyed with concern.

She sighed, a sound full of pain, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“I know what I’m getting into, that it won’t be easy. I promise, you’ll be the first to know if I get any second thoughts.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds, collecting their thoughts. His mother was looking at him, scanning his face for something. Izuku didn’t know what she was looking for, nor whether she found it. Yuki put her hand on his calf, smiling reassuringly when he glanced down at her.

His mother sighed again, this time an exhale of resignation, “I just...don’t want this to be a repeat of what you’ve already had to go through.”

He winced at the reminder. She was right, there was no telling whether any of his peers liked him any more than the current ones did. Izuku was still different, no matter how much his quirk status was bound to change. People didn’t hate him just for his lack of a quirk.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise,” he tried to assure her, “Nobody will know about the ghosts. And...and high schoolers are kinder, right?”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“You met Auntie Mitsuki in high school, right?” he tried changing the topic.

His mother finally smiled, albeit wistfully, “I did. I’m sure you’ll find some good friends at UA.”

He smiled back at her.

Yuki held back a snicker, “She said that as if you already got in.”

Izuku tried not to let his smile widen too much. His mother did believe in him, and she was happy that he was following his dream. Her worries could sometimes make him forget about that fact.

“I love you, sweetheart, just remember that,” she said, leaning in for a hug, “I’ll be there with you, at every twist and turn, no matter what happens.”

He easily hugged back. His mother’s hugs were the best. Warm, tight, safe. It was hard to feel any negative emotions when he was inside his mother’s embrace.

“I know, mom,” he whispered, reeling in his tears, “I love you, too.”

The UA entrance exams came and went.

First in line were the written exams. Izuku has promised himself he wouldn’t hold himself back, so he didn’t. Thankfully, the questions were quite easy, despite their reputation. He was sure many other applicants were also grateful.

Not even the heroics course questions were too difficult. Those were the true curveball of the exam, as neither schools nor the internet could fully prepare you for it. It was a section wholly exclusive to hero schools, all of which kept their curriculum hidden.

Then, there was the practical exam.

All Might passed One for All onto him, the morning of. It didn’t make him feel much different, but, just like the hero, he now had seven shadowy ghosts following him. After ten hellish months, he finally deemed a suitable vessel. Izuku couldn’t feel any prouder of himself, nor any more exhausted.

Yet, despite that, he still felt unsure. Because, even though his body was ready, how could they be sure that All Might wasn’t making a mistake? Surely, there was something much better suited for the world’s most powerful quirk.

That insecurity was amplified by his utter failure during the exam proper. Izuku never felt more fucking incompetent. All he managed to do was break three of his limbs to destroy a robot worth zero points.

He was glad to have saved that girl, Uraraka, he didn’t want any harm to befall her. Yet, in hindsight, it was quite obvious that the examiners would have stopped the enemy before it managed to cause any serious harm. Plus, with a healer like Recovery Girl, Uraraka was in no danger at all.

It has been almost a week since then, and Izuku still got no word from All Might. Was the hero disappointed with him? Was he punishing him by not reaching out to him? What if he was trying to find a way for Izuku to give him the quirk back?

If he wasn’t spiralling over his failure, he would be dissociating. That’s what Yuki called it, Izuku simply accepted it. He could spend hours laying in his bed, silently staring at the wall, unaware of time passing.

Until either his mother called him out of the room, or Yuki tried to cheer him up. He didn’t remember going to school, either. There were some bits and pieces, but his mind blocked them out once he got home.

“You know. Even if you - somehow – didn’t get in, you saved that girl. That’s possibly the most heroic thing you could have done in that exam,” Yuki said, legs swinging from her perch on Izuku’s desk.

Izuku hummed in acknowledgement, only half listening as he played with a Rubik’s cube.

“Man,” she said quietly, looking over his shoulder, “You must’ve solved that cube a hundred times over in the past hour alone.”

“Maybe,” he responded to her previous statement, tilting his head to the side, “There’s still no way they would accept me.”

Yuki hummed in thought. They fall back into an easy silence. The whole household was waiting for the letter from UA to arrive. Whether it was a letter of acceptance or rejection. Izuku knew what he wanted, but he also knew the reality of the situation.

“What if they have some hidden scoring system?” Yuki suddenly said, face shocked as if the thought just came to her, “They’re a hero school, no way they would punish you for being heroic.”

Izuku scrunched his nose up in thought, “I guess it’s not unlike UA to keep secrets. But there’s no way I could get enough points from just that. I literally did nothing else.”

“Who cares about that. You disregarded the exam just to smash a huge-ass robot to bits and save a person. They’d be stupid not to consider that,” she said with conviction, waving her arms around.

The grin on her face spoke of her enthusiasm, as if the thing she said has already proven to be correct. Izuku, for his part, tried not to let her reaction fill him with hope. But, if what she said was true, Izuku would be incredibly lucky.

“Izuku, honey, dinner’s ready,” his mother called from the kitchen.

He stood up, wringing his hands out. If it was dinner already, that meant it wouldn’t be long before the post came. Yuki jumped off the desk, habitually dusting herself off, and followed him out of his room. She squeezed his wrist reassuringly before entering the kitchen.

“Hello, sweetheart,” his mother bustled around the room, setting the food down and taking off her apron, her movements spoke of both nerves and excitement, “Today’s a big day.”

Izuku sat down, “Yeah,” he said, unconvinced.

His mother picked up on his stress and smiled at him softly. She sat down in front of him, all the while looking at Izuku. Her eyes, kind and full of love, looked at him fondly.

Taking his hand from across the table, she said, “Whatever happens, know that I’m proud of you, Izuku. You’re brave, and incredibly smart. No matter where life takes you, I have full faith that you’ll go far. You’re always going to be my hero.”

There was an easy calmness in her voice. Not a quiver of doubt or anxiety. Izuku could feel his eyes becoming misty.

“You’re amazing, Izuku. Don’t let any arbitrary opinions stop you from doing your best,” her voice cracked, as she herself started tearing up.

They did, in time, get to their dinner. It might not have been hot any more, but Izuku has never tasted anything better. Like he was tasting all the love and pride his mother put into each step of the meal.

After they finished eating, his mother began her clean-up efforts, shooing him over to the couch. He sat down next to Yamaguchi, who was watching a cooking show on low volume. He was curious if his mother ever picked up anything from hearing it over in the other room.

Yamaguchi looked over at him, nodding her silent greeting. Her eyes held the same fondness his mother’s did, just before. It was...strange. He suddenly realised how much support he’s been receiving from these three women.

They sat there, together, watching the TV. Peaceful. That was the best word to describe how Izuku was feeling. Not much later, his mother rushed in through the front door. He hasn’t even noticed her leaving.

In her hand was a letter. The unmistakable UA logo right in the middle of the envelope. His nerves came back, the weight of All Might’s expectations crushing. But, at least he knew, he would have his mother, Yamaguchi and Yuki by his side.

Izuku quickly locked himself in his room, psyching himself up to just open the damn envelope. His hands were shaking, head was reeling, and his heart was beating wildly in his chest. With a final calming breath, he tore the thing open.

Just like that, all his worries were thrown out the window. He got in. Yuki was right, they did have some special, hidden way of scoring them in the exam. And All Might wasn’t disappointed in him, he was...proud.

Chapter Text

UA. Izuku was standing in front of UA. Wearing the UA uniform. With his UA student ID. About to start his first year at UA.

He was actually about to walk into the school of his dreams. His hopes and dreams, realised. In just ten months, his life has changed so much.

Walking into the 1-A classroom, it hit Izuku how different the experience was to everything else. A few pairs have already formed, while others sat by themselves. He recognised a couple from the practical exam. A blonde, whom he remembered having stomach issues. And the blue haired boy with glasses, who admonished him for muttering.

Kacchan was there too; he wasn’t spared from the other’s scolding, either. With choppy movements, the boy told Kacchan off for putting his shoes on the table. Izuku wanted to laugh at how bizarre that looked.

Kacchan glanced at him when he walked in, which prompted the blue haired boy, Iida, to introduce himself properly to Izuku. He acted different to how he did during the practical, friendlier. A curious turn of events, but a pleasant one.

“You made it in!” he heard from behind him.

Uraraka was standing in the doorway, a happy grin on her face. Izuku was glad they made it into the same class. She was the first one to be nice to him, in this place. And with an ease that didn’t often come to Izuku, the three of them started chatting.

Just as everyone was settled into their casual conversations, their teacher made an entrance. He introduced himself as Aizawa Shouta, yet, as Izuku got a proper look at the man, he realised. This was Eraserhead.

It took him effort not to react – a skill he picked up from a lifetime of being unable to react to ghosts. The task was difficult, as this was almost as huge as meeting All Might. He has seen the hero in action before, once, but he was right there, standing right there.

In his excitement, he almost missed the ghost trailing behind the hero. Izuku hasn’t noticed him before, despite how colourful he looked. A complete antonym to Aizawa’s appearance. Blue, wispy hair, and a bright hero costume.

Most fascinating, was how he floated. Ghosts floated sometimes, although most didn’t like it. However, this ghost was sitting in mid-air. A curious decision, one that Izuku was interested to hear the reasoning to.

He noticed Izuku staring, tilting his head. Izuku, in turn, slowly tilted his head in response. The ghost’s eyes widened, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear. His hands came up in front of him, flapping back and forth vigorously.

“I’ll take care of him,” Yuki whispered in his ear.

She walked towards the other, engaging him in a quiet conversation before leading him out of the classroom. With the stress of meeting a new ghost gone, Izuku was able to focus on Aizawa, who was explaining their first course of action.

They were going to do a quirk assessment, instead of attending the opening ceremony. Not something Izuku wanted to hear, with his utter lack of control over One for All. Before he could wallow in self pity, however, they got handed the PE uniform and shooed away to change.

The changing rooms were nice, clean unlike those in his previous school. Also unlike his previous school, nobody insulted his appearance; honestly, nobody even looked at him. Except for Kacchan, who shot him a quick, surprised look.

As he changed, he wondered what quirks the other students had. He remembered Iida talking about the engines in his calves. It made him nervous, they all had a decade of mastery on Izuku, how could he compare to anybody in this class?

Aizawa was waiting for them on the field, where they would be carrying out the usual aptitude test, except with quirks. Izuku was never good at those, and now he had to use a quirk he only used once, just to break most of his limbs. Instead of focusing on his own failings, he tried to analyse the others’ quirks. That way, the jitters may not impact his performance too badly. Yuki and the ghost came back, at some point, but Izuku didn’t even notice.

He managed, albeit badly, to do most of the exercises without his quirk, until the ball throw, that is. One for All was the only thing that could have saved him in that moment. Yet, when that also failed, he once again found out how useless he was.

Izuku’s favourite heroes had a knack for crushing his spirits, right after he’d met them. Aizawa didn’t spare any pleasantries when telling him he wouldn’t go far with such poor quirk control. After all, he should have had ten years to practice, ten years to learn how to manage the damages.

He just barely scraped by, only because he was able to think on his toes and direct all the power to just his finger. It hurt like hell. He questioned how he ever managed to sacrifice three of his limbs during the practical exam.

Aizawa sent him to Recovery Girl afterward, a grace he was relieved to receive – along with not getting expelled. Yuki was right beside him, the floating ghost coming along, too.

The ghost finally spoke up when they left the infirmary, “Don’t let Sho get to you. He acts all scary at first, but he’ll warm up to ya in no time.”

“Um, thanks,” Izuku said, disbelieving, “You know Aizawa-sensei, then?”

The other grinned, “We’re besties,” he exclaimed, before his lips warbled, “Or were, I guess.”

“This is Shirakumo, by the by,” Yuki quickly changed the topic.

Shirakumo looked away sheepishly, laughing, “I forgot to introduce myself, sorry. And you’re Midoriya, right? Miyamoto told me.”

When Izuku nodded, Shirakumo’s easy smile returned to his face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Midoriya!”

He reached his arm out, snaking it around Izuku’s shoulder in a friendly manner. As Shirakumo’s arm made contact with his shoulder, however, the ghost recoiled, shock clearly on his face. He looked down at his arm, before attempting to touch Izuku again.

Izuku looked at his curiously, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just, I wasn’t expecting that to happen. Doing that is a force of habit, but I always just phase through people,” Shirakumo explained.

“He talks to ghosts. This is what surprised you?” Yuki asked, eyebrow raised.

“So, this is normal?”

Izuku hummed his confirmation, “It doesn’t have any force behind it, but I can make physical contact with you.”

“Woah,” Shirakumo breathed, “That’s so cool, man!”

Yuki laughed, and Izuku let out his own amused huff, “Thanks, I think.”

“Is there anything else you can do?”

“Um, that’s pretty much it, really.”

“Technically,” Yuki said, “But! He’s a fucking genius. Some smart-ass ghost will come along and Izuku will remember everything they said.”

“Well, not really,” he tried to argue.

Yuki looked at him sceptically, “You know multiple languages, even some ancient ones.”

“Not fluently.”

“But you still do,” Yuki argued.

“So you know people from the Pre-Quirk Era?” Shirakumo asked.

“You’re speaking to one, right now,” Yuki pointed to herself, a self-satisfactory grin on her face.

Shirakumo waved her away, “But you’re not smart.”

She snapped her head in the other’s direction, spluttering, “Hey, what is that supposed to mean!”

Taking one look at her, Shirakumo burst out with laughter, doubling over. Yuki crossed her arms over her chest, huffing. Izuku simply looked over at them with amused intrigue.

Once he calmed down, Shirakumo spoke up again, “What was it like, before quirks? I’ve always been curious, but there’s not many ways to find out.”

Yuki hummed in thought, “I guess it wasn’t that different. There were no quirks, of course, and the only heroes were in comics. The technology was a little different, too.”

“You’re quirkless, then, right?” Shirakumo asked, making Izuku tense, “I’ve never really met anyone without a quirk.”

“Not even other ghosts?”

“I don’t really talk to other ghosts enough to know,” he shrugged.

Izuku let his shoulders relax. Shirakumo was just curious, there was no way fro him to know that Izuku was quirkless.

“Speaking of. How is seeing ghosts connected to your quirk?”

“It isn’t,” Yuki replied for him, “He was born like that. It’s something people have been able to do for millennia, apparently.”

The train station has already come into view, more and more people crowded the streets, making it harder for Izuku to speak up without getting weird looks. He signed the letter Q, at Yuki, knowing she would pick up on his intentions.

“And what’s your quirk?” she asked.

Shirakumo perked up, “It’s called Cloud. I can make clouds!”

“We’re you able to float on them, too?” she raised her eyebrow at him, looking at his crossed legs.

He looked at her sheepishly, “They were comfortable, and now I can do it whenever.”

The two ghosts continued talking as they boarded the train. They were a good pair, both were loud and animated, creating a very easy rapport between them. It was perfect entertainment on an otherwise silent train car.

After an hour, that felt much shorter thanks to Yuki and Shirakumo, they got out at their stop. Izuku walked in front, Yuki and Shirakumo trailing behind, still deep in conversation. They have moved onto comparing the movies they grew up with. From miming the action scenes to quoting iconic lines.

All of a sudden, Shirakumo paused in the middle of a sentence, “Wait,” he looked around, “I’ve been following you home this whole time.”

Yuki chuckled, “It’s cool, dude, no worries.”

Shirakumo laughed nervously, scratching at his nape, “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I should probably get going, then.”

“Like I said, no worries. You can tag along. You’re a ghost, can’t do any harm.”

Izuku nodded at the sentiment. It’s been a while since a ghost has come to visit. Being able to freely talk with one was more pleasant than talking through Yuki.

Shirakumo looked at them both, before smiling, “If you’re fine with that, I guess I’ll come along.”

Coming in through the front door, Oboro instantly got the vibe that this apartment was loved. The hallway opened into the living room, which had picture frame upon picture frame hung up on the walls. From family photos to, what Oboro guessed were, family friends.

Some plants were scattered around, clearly very well looked after. The coffee table was almost wholly filled up by a puzzle, except two empty mugs sitting on some coasters. Cushions and blankets were sprawled across the couch.

Oboro could tell a family lived in the house. Over in the corner, he could see the kitchen, clean but in a controlled chaos kind of way. On the other side, was a corridor with a bunch of doors. A sign reading ‘Izuku’ hung on one.

“Welcome to our house,” Miyamoto exclaimed with a proud grin, spreading her arms out wide.

Midoriya smiled shyly, “My mom’s working late, but you can meet Yamaguchi. She’s another ghost that lives here.”

He was led over to the couch, where an older lady sat. They introduced themselves, after which Yamaguchi asked Midoriya about his first day at school. She looked at him like a proud grandmother, and he wondered how long they have known each other.

A few minutes later, Midoriya excused himself, running into his room. He quickly came back, a notebook in hand. Upon asking, the boy explained, timidly, the notebook’s purpose. With that information, it should never be questioned why Midoriya chose UA.

“Um, would I be able to ask you some things about your quirk? And write them down.”

Oboro beamed at him, “Of course you can!”

An hour in, Midoriya finally ran out of questions. Easy to say, Oboro clearly underestimated how much information he himself knew about his own quirk. If he was still alive, he could probably ask Midoriya to help with training Cloud.

“Alright!” Oboro said, throwing his hands behind his head, leaning back, into the couch, “My turn.”

Midoriya tilted his head and scrunched up his nose in confusion – like a cat, “Your turn?”

“To ask questions!”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

At first, he asked some random questions. Midoriya’s favourite colour was red, his only hobby was analysing heroes and quirks, although he was extremely good at drawing. His favourite hero was All Might, go figure with the All Might themed slippers he was wearing.

Oboro hummed, looking for another question, “So, what kinda ghosts have you met?”

“You’ll have an easier time getting him to talk about the ghosts he hasn’t met,” Miyamoto said.

“Really?”

He scratched at his red cheek, “Yeah, um. Gossip spreads fast around the world. People want to see the only living person who can see them, you know.”

Oboro has definitely been a ghost as long as Midoriya has been alive, but he has never heard of the guy. Although, that might have been his fault, he stuck to Shouta and Hizashi all that time, not even particularly interested in other ghosts.

“Wow. You must have met a lot of old people, then.”

Midoriya chuckled, “I’ve met somebody who lived when the pyramids were being built.”

Oboro’s jaw dropped open, “No fucking way! Woah! Could you even understand them?”

He heard a bunch of giggles erupt around him. But he couldn’t get himself to even think about that. Because, shit, he has never even thought about the possibility of meeting a person from thousands of years in the past.

“A lot of ghosts learn other languages. He knew English, so it wasn’t hard.”

“You did say you understand many languages,” Oboro whistled, impressed, “You must get such good grades. I’m so jealous.”

“Well...um, I guess, yeah,” Midoriya hesitated.

His shoulders flinched, and it wasn’t hard to see the wince in Midoriya’s expression. There was definitely something more to that answer, something the other was hiding. Oboro wasn’t one to pry, though, he knew the weight of secrets.

He decided to change the topic slightly, instead, “I imagine this whole seeing ghosts shtick gotta be pretty under wraps, right? How many people have you told?”

“My mother knows, of course. So does Kacchan and his parents. They’re the people in the photo.”

Midoriya pointed to one of the frames hung up near them. It was of a younger Midoriya, and presumably his mother. Next to them stood a blonde woman, grinning and hugging a man in glasses. A blonde boy was also featured, scowling.

“Ain’t that the angry guy who almost attacked you today?” he carefully asked.

Midoriya looked away, laughing nervously.

“And he,” Oboro emphasised by pointing to the scowling kid, “Keeps it secret wilfully?”

Miyamoto leaned in, as if she was about to share something scandalous with him, “That’s what I’ve been wondering.”

“And, as I always say, Kacchan isn’t as bad as you make him out to be,” he said, exasperated.

Oboro had a hunch that if he didn’t stop them, some old argument of theirs would resurface.

“Who else knows?”

“That’s it,” Midoriya stated matter-of-factly.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he repeated.

“You’ve never told anybody else?” he asked incredulously, “A friend? A teacher?”

Shaking his head, Midoriya looked sad, dejected. Truthfully, Oboro felt bad for the boy. Did somebody make him think he couldn’t confide in other people? Did Midoriya think nobody would believe him?

Oboro, personally, doesn’t think he could have kept a skill like that secret from anybody. He would be bragging about it as soon as he met somebody. Shouta and Hizashi would have known right away, they couldn’t get him to stop yapping about it, in fact.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, here’s a suggestion. I trust Shouta, he cares about his kids, trust me. There’s nobody better to tell. He could probably even help you use this skill of yours in hero work.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened, “Hero work?”

Oboro grinned, bingo, “You basically have insider informants. Think about it.”

The boy looked down in thought, hand coming up to his mouth as he started mumbling under his breath. It wasn’t much, but now a seed has been planted in the kid’s head. With time, it could become something big.

The sun has already set by the time Oboro made it back home. Being a ghost, he didn’t exactly have a home of his own, but he’s been crashing with Sho and Zashi ever since they got their own place, so he reserved the right to call it his own, too.

Midoriya was a smart kid, scarily so. The way he analysed his quirk to bits, without being able to ever see it in action, was impressive. And to be able to speak as many languages as Oboro learned the kid could, he had to be a sponge for information.

Oboro could never sit down long enough to learn simple maths equations. Not even as a ghost did he feel the need to learn much more than he already did.

One thing bothered him, however, ever since he spoke with Midoriya. He was very hesitant to speak of his academic achievements. Oboro tried, really hard, to remember what the kid’s previous teachers said about him when he was leaning over Shouta’s shoulder as the man read his students’ reports.

The memory came to him eventually, it was hard to forget, really. A bunch of cheating complaints, reports of behavioural problems. There was a bunch of other shit, too. They told of a completely different story than what Oboro saw for himself.

Shouta didn’t often act on these reports. He read them mostly so he knew how to accommodate his future students. His judgement only came from his own experience of them, in his own classroom. However, coupled with Midoriya’s poor quirk control, it was no wonder why Shouta almost failed to give the kid a chance.

What has happened to the kid since these complaints were issued? Were they even real, was the better question. He didn’t want to pry into the kid’s life, but it was clear as day to see that something was up. Hopefully, Shouta would see the same thing he was.

Speaking of, Shouta was sat at the kitchen island, papers strewn about everywhere, and a laptop in front of him. His hair was up in a bun, some strands falling out to frame his face. He was hunched over in his chair, wearing a pink jumper.

Oboro smiled at the image. He remembered, all those years ago when they were still in UA together, how he and Hizashi got a pink scarf as a gag gift for Shouta. They thought it would be funny, to give such a bright piece of clothing to a person who practically refused to wear any other colour than black.

As expected, Shouta was bemused by the gift. Yet, in time, it became normal to see him wearing it. Even now, after fifteen years, pink was a staple in Shouta’s wardrobe. With yellow and blue worming their way in, too.

Their house was also a testament of how much Shouta tolerated colour. Hizashi received free reign over the interior design, and it definitely showed. All the walls in the house were colourful. The furniture too. And so many decorations, everywhere.

Oboro smiled softly, sitting down on the table next to Shouta’s papers. Glancing at them, he could tell they were personalised training regimens for his students. Shouta always worked his ass off to make sure his students were cared for, even when he only knew them a total of a few hours.

He, eventually, put his pen down, when their cat, Bastard – or, on legal papers, Sardine – jumped up onto his lap. He started meowing and rubbing at Shouta’s arms, begging for attention. Shouta raised one eyebrow, stretching his back.

“Nobody ever gives you attention, huh?” he said, holding Bastard’s head like a burger, “I’m sure Zashi wasn’t just giving you pets.”

Bastard only meowed louder in response, purring. Shouta looked at the time on his laptop.

“You’re right, though, it’s time for a break.”

Oboro found it endearing how Shouta’s monotone would barely change whenever he spoke to animals.

Bastard meowed again when Shouta threw him off and stood up from the chair, “Yes, yes, let’s give you food, we’ve been starving you for ages.”

The cat ran up to his bowl, awaiting his dinner. Shouta prepared the cat food in silence, boiling some water at the same time. Patting Bastard on the back as the cat started scarfing his food down, Shouta moved on to making two cups of coffee.

Walking into the living room, Shouta called out in greeting, “Cat fed.”

Oboro followed him over to the couch, where Hizashi was already settled. He made space for Shouta to sit down, who set the mugs down on the coffee table. Oboro sat down, a little further, on the couch.

“Speaking of being fed,” Hizashi announced, “Take-away night.”

“What’d you order?” Shouta asked, reaching over for the remote.

“Just pizza,” he said, “Also, I’ve already picked out the movie. The start of a new school year always reminds me of it.”

On the TV screen was a film Oboro remembered all too well. It was his favourite, after all. He would gush about it for week after it came out, nobody could get him to stop. His yapping got Zashi and Sho into it too, creating one of the best cinema memories Oboro had.

The couple settled in together, cuddling up on one side of the big couch. Bastard also made his appearance, after having eaten his meal. The cat laid down next to Oboro, close enough to be touching, if he was tangible.

Oboro still wasn’t sure how Bastard was always able to process his presence, it was something he would have to ask Midoriya about, at some point. But for now, he got comfortable next to the purring cat, turning back to watch the film with his family.

Chapter Text

His second day at UA brought with it even more chaos.

The previous day, Izuku has learned about some of the quirks in his class, but he was still unable to put names to faces. He hoped this day would bring forth more introductions.

“Man, I haven’t been to high school in ages!” Yuki exclaimed.

“You’ve been yesterday,” Izuku pointed out.

“Yes, but I didn’t think about it yesterday.”

Izuku rolled his eyes, “How is it different to junior high?”

Yuki scoffed, “Completely different vibe. So much more freedom. Way more homework.”

“Good thing only I get to do it,” he said sarcastically.

“Exactly,” Yuki gestured, “You love homework.”

Izuku chuckled, “You know that you’ll still be going through all the classes with me?”

She groaned, hanging her head in disappointment, “Let’s hope your classmates are funny, at least.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. She rolled her eyes at his reaction, but did eventually join him in laughter.

Once they calmed down, they began their trek to UA, eventually arriving on campus. Izuku could see Uraraka coming in from the other direction. Would it be normal to just come up to her and say hi?

“Deku, hi!” she waved him over.

He didn’t have to wonder, it seemed. He waved back, flashing a reserved smile.

“How’s your finger?” she asked, once she got closer.

“All good! Recovery Girl is amazing.”

“Totally,” she nodded, they began walking together, “By the way, what you did yesterday was so badass. You even got Aizawa-sensei to smile!”

Giggling nervously, he said, “It looked more like an evil grin, to me.”

Uraraka gasped, “What? No! He looked totally impressed. I bet he was so impressed he decided not to expel anybody.”

Yuki laughed beside him, “I like her. She’s got the right idea.”

They entered the school building, pausing their conversation to change their shoes, before resuming their walk together.

“Anyway! I wanted to ask you about the entrance exams. The written ones, I mean. How did you find them?”

Izuku didn’t know what the acceptable way to answer that question was, “Um, they were fine, I think?”

“Really?” Uraraka tapped her chin, “Some of the questions stumped me. I had to leave some of them empty, I just couldn’t think of an answer. I don’t know how they expect somebody to know all this.”

Izuku laughed nervously, maybe the exams weren’t actually as easy for everybody as he assumed. He couldn’t relate to her plight at all.

“Yeah,” Izuku lied, “I’m sure...I’m sure the lessons themselves won’t be that hard. But I better study hard, anyway.”

“I’ll give it my all!” Uraraka balled her first, “No test will best me.”

“That’s the spirit, girlie,” Yuki cheered her on.

Coincidentally, they arrived at their classroom before finishing the conversation. Perfect timing. Upon opening the door, they were met by Iida.

“Good morning, Midoriya, Uraraka,” Iida greeted, accentuated by choppy hand movements, “Have you both slept well?”

Uraraka giggled, “I did, except,” she scratched at her cheek, “I might have stayed up too late. I was too excited for today!”

Iida nodded, “Your excitement is relatable. But do make sure to keep a proper sleep schedule. It is very important for you health.”

“You’re excited, Iida?” Izuku asked, curious.

“Of course. This has been my dream for a very long time.”

“Ah, you just don’t seem like the easily excitable type,” Uraraka said sheepishly.

Iida frowned slightly, “Oh? How come? I don’t mean to make the wrong impression.”

Uraraka waved her hands about, “Sorry! We didn’t want to assume anything. You just always seem so serious and stoic.”

Iida hummed in thought, “You’re right. I’ll try to show my emotions more.”

“You don’t have to,” Izuku smiled, “We don’t want you to be different. But, um, maybe you can tell us? To not cause any confusion.”

“Yes! Exactly what he said,” Uraraka nodded.

“That’s what I’ll do then, thank you,” Iida said, looking very determined.

They fell into easy conversation after that. Being able to talk like that with people, who he could now call friends, was incredibly freeing. It squeezed at his heart pleasantly, like a hug.

He must have gotten really lucky. Receiving a quirk, being accepted into UA, getting friends like Uraraka and Iida. Izuku hasn’t been this lucky since...Kacchan still tolerated him.

Yet, a grim part of himself still whispered in his ears. Did he deserve this? He was practically lying to everybody. Izuku was quirkless, but all these people were made to treat him as if he had one. He was a fraud, he shouldn’t have even been at UA.

He couldn’t let himself dwell on these thoughts, though. He was already here. He was given the opportunity to prove himself, and that was going to be what he does. Eventually, maybe everyone would find out about his lies, but for now, he could let himself be content.

The bell rang, prompting everyone to sit down. Aizawa entered, followed by Shirakumo. The ghost winked at him, conspiratorially. Once Aizawa began their home-room, he quickly found out why, as Shirakumo floated over to him.

“Thought I’ll follow you around for a change. Haven’t experienced UA from a student’s perspective in a while,” he drew out the last vowel for emphasis.

“He can’t respond to you, dumbass,” Yuki flicked his forehead.

Shirakumo stuck his tongue out, “No shit, Sherlock.”

Yuki raised her eyebrow, laughing, “Do you even know who that is?”

“Isn’t it just an English saying?”

Yuki laughed at him harder, as Izuku tried desperately tried not to chuckle in a class full of people. Shirakumo groaned, but huffed in amusement himself.

Morning classes passed by fairly quickly. The teachers took the time to introduce themselves and go over the curriculum. Izuku was fascinated to meet all the pro heroes, who he would have otherwise only seen on TV.

It felt weird, to have these heroes teach him normal school subjects. Ectoplasm didn’t seem like a hero who would teach high school mathematics. Present Mic, however, was the most obvious candidate for an English teacher.

It was no secret that the hero spoke the language fluently, having established many English catch phrases during his career. His show, Your Hands Up Radio, was very popular internationally because he often mixed Japanese with English, making it accessible to people who spoke either.

An interesting thing Izuku noticed, when Present Mic entered the classroom, Shirakumo visibly perked up. It made him wonder if they knew each other, back when the ghost was alive.

Once classes ended, Izuku was invited by Uraraka to eat lunch with her and Iida. He tagged along eagerly, excited to have friends with whom he could sit with. Before, he would hide in a secluded corner of the school to eat, so that nobody could bother him.

Lunch Rush served them their food – which was so cool – after which they sat down at one of the tables in the cafeteria. Looking around, Izuku spotted some of their classmates scattered about, sitting at different tables.

“Having pros as teachers is so strange!” Uraraka said, voicing his exact thoughts on the matter.

“It’s amazing to be in the presence of such talented people,” Iida agreed.

“It’s like having celebrities for teachers,” she continued.

Izuku could feel the urge to ramble, “I’ve only ever seen them in videos and interviews. I would have never guessed Cementoss liked Japanese literature so much.”

Uraraka raised her brows at him, “What? Come on, have you looked at him? He so looks like he reads classical literature all the time.”

“Do I hear you gossiping about our teachers?” a bubbly voice piped up behind him.

Izuku jumped, startled. He turned around, spotting one of their classmates leaning over. She had pink skin and hair, and a friendly grin was plastered on her face.

Uraraka giggled sheepishly, “I wouldn’t call it gossip.”

“Let me join, let me join,” she chanted, already sliding onto the bench, “I’m Ashido Mina! By the way. Nice to meet you!”

They introduced themselves one by one.

“Y’all were so dope, yesterday,” Ashido said, “I can’t believe I’ll get to work with all of you.”

“You did well too, Ashido, don’t sell yourself short,” Uraraka threw back.

“Oh, come on! When Aizawa-sensei turned around and showed us the infinity sign? My jaw dropped, you’re amazing.”

Uraraka blushed at the compliment, “Well, you know...”

Ashido chuckled at her reaction. Then, as if remembering something, her eyes widened, head snapping to the side to look straight at Izuku.

“Midoriya!” she shouted.

Izuku jumped, again, “Um, yes?”

“Don’t sound so scared,” she whined, before bouncing back, “I saw your hair. Dude, you need to take better care of that.”

“Taking care of one’s appearance is important in maintaining one’s mental health,” Iida added.

Izuku tilted his head in confusion, “What do you mean? Is there something wrong with it?”

“It’s all frizzy, and your curl pattern is completely messed up. Has anybody ever told you how to take care of curly hair?”

“Um, no?” he said, “My mom’s hair is straight. I guess I never thought of doing anything different.”

Ashido huffed with purpose, “I’ll make sure to bring it back to life. Here, give me your phone number and I’ll text you!”

“Oh!” Uraraka exclaimed, “We should swap phone numbers! It’s a good idea to keep up when we’re not in school.”

“Indeed,” Iida agreed, already pulling his phone out.

Izuku was overwhelmed. He couldn’t say anything as they all passed their phones around. He’s never had a friends number, before. Except Kacchan, but they didn’t talk, really. The only important contacts he had were his mother’s and the Bakugous’.

“Hmm,” Ashido hummed, “You didn’t put your name in, Midoriya. I’ll call you Bones, then, since you broke your finger yesterday.”

Uraraka clapped her hands, “Fitting.”

Conversation continued until they made their way back to the classroom for their afternoon lessons. Yuki and Shirakumo entered soon after them. She insisted on being shown around the campus during lunch.

“All Might’s coming,” she whispered in his ear.

The class erupted in squeals and yells of excitement when the hero ran in. Izuku himself couldn’t contain his enthusiasm, despite being the only one who knew All Might was going to be their teacher beforehand.

Yuki snickered, “You found your people, fanboy.”

After introducing the premise of their first Foundational Heroics lesson, All Might told them to change into their costumes and meet them out on Ground Beta. Everyone rushed to the changing rooms, not wanting to waste any more time.

They were segregated into pairs, Izuku was relieved to hear he would be training alongside Uraraka. He was less enthused, however, upon hearing that one of their opponents was Kacchan. Especially with the type of exercise they would be carrying out.

Kacchan was already angry at him, he did not want to know what that looked like when he was given free reign to use his quirk. Those grenades around his arms didn’t make him feel any better, either.

He was only proven correct when he woke up in the infirmary. A broken arm and a bunch of burns and scrapes. It was to be predicted, but Aizawa was not going to be happy, especially since he skipped the rest of his lessons.

Izuku couldn’t help but feel...annoyed. First, Kacchan stopped being his friend for not having a quirk. Then, Izuku came back with a quirk, and he became even angrier. He wished Kacchan could just fucking talk to him. Tell him what he finds so irritating about Izuku’s existence.

Breathing deeply in, Izuku forced himself to calm down before leaving the infirmary. He didn’t like the place. He headed back to the classroom to gather his belongings. Yuki wasn’t anywhere is sight, but Izuku knew she would find her way back, eventually.

“Midori!” Ashido greeted him once he opened the door, “You’re alive!”

He was shocked to see so many people still in the classroom. Actually, as he glanced around, most of the class stuck around. Classes should have ended hours ago.

“Dude, that was so manly!” Kirishima said before introducing himself.

“Oh, uh, thank you?”

“You looked so fired up, man,” he continued, “It inspired me to give it my all, too.”

“You were great. It almost looked like you expected all of Bakugou’s moves,” Ashido complimented, miming punching something.

Izuku tried not to let any of the praise get to him, or else he would cry, “Has anyone seen him, by the way?”

“He left not long ago,” Kirishima supplied.

“Thank you!” Izuku said before running as fast as he could.

If he was lucky, he would catch up with the boy. He found Kacchan about to walk through the front gates. Calling out to him, he started speaking.

He couldn’t have Kacchan believing that he has been lying about being quirkless, but he also couldn’t fully explain the origin of his quirk. Once he finished, Kacchan turned back to him, eyes puffy and red.

Clearly, he has been crying, “Another god damn secret to add to your pile, eh, Deku?” he scoffed.

Izuku didn’t have anything to reply with. Kacchan scoffed again, turning back around to continue his journey. Izuku let him walk away. It felt...horrible.

Izuku has been home for a couple hours, having to leave without Yuki in order to catch his train. Doing so while his right arm was in a sling was difficult, but he managed. He was trying to eat instant ramen with his left hand when Yuki came back.

“There you are,” Izuku admonished, “Where’d you go?”

“Sorry,” she winced, “I didn’t mean to just leave you for so long. How are you?”

“Sore. And tired. But I’ll survive,” he waved off her concern.

“I went to see what the nurse was up to, ‘cause she left as soon as she healed you,” Yuki explained, sitting down beside him at the kitchen table.

“Oh?”

“You’re gonna hate it,” Yuki said, unable to contain her giggle, “The little lady started ripping All Might a new one.”

Izuku furrowed his brows, “Huh?”

“She was furious. Went on and on about how he should learn to be a better mentor. Oh, it was beautiful, I wish you could’ve seen it,” she barely got out through her laughter.

“But I don’t get it,” Izuku said, “What did he do?”

Yuki quickly sobered up, looking him in the eye, “He let you get hurt, ‘cause he didn’t stop your fight with Bakugou. He should have called it off, before either of you got badly hurt.”

“I guess that’s true,” he agreed slowly, looking down at his hand.

“Then Aizawa came by, after he heard you got hurt,” Yuki continued her story, “Also told him off for letting the fight go so far. And for even coming up with the lesson in the first place. Said you shouldn’t be doing battle training so soon. I agree.”

Izuku hummed, “That makes sense.”

He hadn't considered it before, but every other teacher didn’t go straight into lesson like All Might had. It was shocking, however, to learn that at least two people cared enough for his wellbeing to admonish All Might for putting him in danger. Teachers would have usually turned a blind eye.

“Anyway,” Yuki spoke up again, “If you think Aizawa was scary yesterday, you should have seen him, man. All Might looked ready to shit himself. Even the other teachers didn’t dare get close.”

Her eyes got comically wide, and she shuddered for added effect.

“It felt like he was scolding me, honestly, as impossible as that sounds.”

Izuku was almost scared to ask, “So...what now? How did it all end?”

Yuki shrugged, “After All Might looked ready to book it out of there, Aizawa told him he’ll have to run every future lesson plan past him.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, hopefully you won’t hurt yourself like this, again,” she nodded pointedly to his arm.

Izuku looked down to hide his reddening face. His focus went back to the half eaten bowl of instant ramen, so he slowly resumed his meal. Yuki laughed and shook her head fondly, changing the topic of conversation into something lighter.

Yuki was explaining the lore of some game she saw online when Yamaguchi called them into the living room. Izuku immediately snuggled up into a blanket, drawing his feet up onto the couch.

“Your show is on, darling,” Yamaguchi explained.

His show, meaning the only piece of TV that didn’t feature heroes he regularly watched. Yamaguchi would always call him over when she saw it was on, and sometimes even Yuki or his mother watched it with them.

It was easy to doze off like that, with nothing keeping his exhaustion at bay. The lights were dimmed, his blanket was warm, and a peaceful haze was lulling him closer and closer to sleep. His body melded into the couch, and his eyes were about to fall shut when his phone buzzed.

Ashido Mina

hiii! its mina!!
sry for txting so late ⸜( ´ ꒳ ` )⸝

good afternoon

so formal! (>_<)

sorry :(

no worries!
I just wanted to check up on u
u left in quite a hurry

sorry!
I didn’t mean to worry
anybody, had to talk to
kacchan before he left

ohhhh
u mean bakugou?
are u 2 close

kinda?
I’ve knows him forever

like me n kiri!
tho not forever
thats y ur fight was so cool!!
anyway!
u must be tired
gn!!!!

Izuku smiled softly at the interaction. Ashido had an interesting way of texting, but he couldn’t say it bothered him. She was an incredibly fast texted, too. He wondered how many people she must have been constantly texting to develop such a skill.

Yuki whistled over his shoulder, “You’ve already got somebody’s number?”

“Is that a good thing?” he sleepily asked.

“You’ll be popular in no time,” Yamaguchi pat his left hand encouragingly.

Would he be? Izuku couldn’t imagine ever being popular with his peers. He wouldn’t know how to act if he was popular. Was there some kind of rule set to follow when one became famous? He already struggled to speak around the three friends he has made.

He would have to think about it another day, though.

Two days have passed. Izuku’s arm was out of the sling, and the only crazy thing that happened was the security alarm being pulled the day before.

He was sitting at lunch, with most of class 1-A crammed onto one of the biggest cafeteria tables. Izuku was smushed in between Uraraka and Iida, all of them having finished their food.

“Yesterday was wild!” Sero said, palms flat on the table.

Kaminari nodded, wide-eyed, “Who breaks into a school for a headline?”

Iida sipped on his second orange juice, “It was very unprofessional of them.”

“It was so scary!” Hagakure cried, “I thought I was going to get trampled!”

Izuku could agree with her. Everyone was panicking, which didn’t make for the safest of environments. He couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like for somebody with an invisibility quirk, but he was definitely feeling claustrophobic.

“Why did they even wait so long?” Ashido pointed out, “They could have gotten in, in the morning.”

The table went silent as everybody considered the question. Izuku himself had an idea, but he wasn’t sure if he should be voicing it. For all he knew, it could cause an even bigger panic than yesterday.

He agreed with Ashido, that it made no logical sense for the press to wait until lunch to break the gate. But, it also didn’t make sense for a simple reporter to use their quirk to do so. They were normal civilians, who must have knows how stupid it would be to risk such a thing.

However, lunch made the perfect opportunity to have everyone on campus be congregated in one place, leaving much of the building open. If, as Izuku believed, a villain was behind disintegrating the gates, it stood to reason that other villains tagged along.

Maybe, they were looking for something inside of UA. Information, perhaps. The school never stated if that happened, so Izuku couldn’t be sure of that theory being true. But, it made sense to him, and, frankly, scared him.

Although, if the teachers were keeping it secret, even from the students, Izuku had to believe that they had to have had it under control. For that reason alone, he was against speaking of this with anybody.

“Anyway,” Kaminari broke the tension, “Mr. Exit Sign truly popped off yesterday.”

“What you did was very commendable, Iida,” Shoji added.

“Thank you, everyone,” Iida blushed, “I simply did what I though to be most helpful. I did not expect to be made Class Representative over it.”

Jirou spoke up next, twirling her earjacks around her fingers, “You thought calmly when we were all panicking. I think that’s very admirable.”

“You have what it takes to lead the class,” Izuku praised his friend.

“I am grateful, that you all think so,” Iida bowed his head, “I do still believe you would have made a great Class Representative, Midoriya.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” Izuku stumbled over his words.

Izuku didn’t believe himself fit to lead anybody, and definitely not a class of twenty students. His anxiety prevented him from even speaking coherently. Additionally, he would have no idea where to start, Yaoyorozu would be forced to do the bulk of his work.

“That’s okay, you can still lead us in training!” Uraraka pat him on the shoulder, “You come up with great strategies.”

“Your planning during your fight with Bakugou was remarkably astounding. Albeit morbidly reckless,” Tokoyami piped up from the corner.

“You’ll be our honorary third Class Rep, Midori!” Ashido grinned at him.

The others nodded. Izuku was lost for words, he didn’t know how to respond to such praise. He has never been allowed anywhere near such impactful class roles.

“Tell us, how did you manage to counter somebody as powerful as Bakugou?” Sero asked, leaning in over the table.

“Well. I’ve seen him train before, I guess.”

“Right!” Ashido clapped her hands, “You guys know each other!”

Izuku nodded minutely, trying not to regret sharing that information with her. Everyone erupted in shouts, surprise setting over the table.

“No way! How do you deal with his temper?” Kaminari inquired.

He didn’t, “I got used to it?”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Ashido asked, “You looked just as angry, during your fight.”

Izuku laughed nervously. He couldn’t explain that, not really. After ten months of almost nothing from the boy, for Kacchan to blow up like that, all of a sudden, made something snap within Izuku. He still wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but it let him explode with all the rage he had pent up over the years towards the other.

Uraraka frowned in though, “You guys went pretty hard on each other. We saw you through the window when you ran after him. It looked pretty emotional.”

They saw that? Hopefully, they were too far away to hear any of their conversation. Izuku would be screwed if they picked up on anything.

Izuku laughed nervously again, panicked, “Let’s not...talk about that.”

“He’s right,” Iida came to his rescue, “Let’s not talk about other students’ personal matters. Especially when one of them isn’t present.”

Uraraka looked at him guiltily, “Iida’s right. I’m sorry, Deku.”

Before he could tell her it was alright, everyone else followed suit, adding on their own apologies. If Yuki was present, he had no doubt she would be laughing at the shocked face Izuku pulled.

“On that note,” Ashido said, “Can anyone help me with today’s English lesson? I didn’t understand any of it!”

Chapter Text

Shit hit the fan exactly one week later.

Aizawa begun the day by announcing they would be training at an off-site facility. Rescue training, he had said, at the Unforeseen Simulation Joint. It was exciting, initially. They got to meet Thirteen, much to Izuku and Uraraka’s joy.

Unfortunately, they never managed to do any rescue training, once the villains began pouring out of the portal. There were at least a few dozen, lead by a villain whose quirk Izuku thought he recognised from the press break-in.

Izuku, being possibly the most unlucky person on the planet, had to, additionally, deal with an influx of ghosts. In the commotion, it was hard to determine who was foe and who didn’t even have a tangible form.

Logically, he knew that they would, eventually, have to come across villains as hero students. Yet, he hadn’t expected it to happen in such a way, nor so early.

His classmates were scattered, he got teleported away from Yuki, their teachers were killing themselves trying to keep the students safe. It was pure chaos. Aizawa was bleeding out on the ground, underneath the monster they called Nomu.

Izuku couldn’t move, but neither could Asui or Shinso beside him. Maybe his frozen state was what allowed him to notice Shirakumo. He was standing by Kurogiri, no longer floating. With his jaw hanging wide open, fear in his eyes, he stared at the villain.

He couldn’t blame him, because Izuku was horrified himself. Both Kurogiri and the Nomu had multiple ghosts each almost...blipping in and out of existence. Izuku has never seen something like that. The ghosts were inside the villains, as if they were fighting over the dominance of the body, as if the body held multiple ghosts.

Shirakumo, himself, was fading in and out repeatedly as he stood by Kurogiri. In fact, one of the ghosts sharing a place with Kurogiri sported the same shade of baby blue as Shirakumo. Izuku did not like the conclusion this was making him come to.

Thankfully, in the end, everyone came out of the situation alive. Both Thirteen and Aizawa needed serious medical attention, and Izuku has found himself in the infirmary again, but the rest of his classmates weren’t severely injured.

The infirmary he found himself in has never looked so intimidating before. The sterile white walls, blaring lights, the scent of chemicals in the air. Curtains, a weighing scale, a thermometer or two. Plastic chairs, anatomical posters, a cabinet full of medicine.

All of it was familiar. Too familiar. Izuku hasn’t spent this long in this place before, he didn’t particularly want to spend a second more. But Recovery Girl hasn’t let him leave yet, and he didn’t know how long it would be until she did.

Yuki sat next to him, on the bed. Her presence was the only thing keeping him from completely shutting down. He took deep breaths, trying not to remember too much. He couldn’t let himself, not while All Might was in the room.

A detective, Tsukauchi Naomasa, came in at some point. Having been assigned to the incident, he asked them a few questions about the happenings of the day. Izuku couldn’t even muster the energy to be excited about the detective’s quirk, Lie Detector.

Once the man left, Izuku turned to All Might, “Um, how many people know about One for All, exactly?”

All Might hummed, “A good question. Tsukauchi, as you just saw. Recovery Girl, of course, as well as UA’s principal. An old sidekick of mine, too.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Yuki said, tone accusatory.

“Oh,” Izuku was hung up on only one thing, “The principal knows?”

All Might nodded, “He proposed I should be a teacher here, to find my successor. Hence I was in the city, when I found you.”

He smiled at Izuku, a much softer smile that the one he’d show to the public. One that Izuku has been getting more used to seeing, over the past few months.

“Alright,” Yuki said reluctantly, “He get’s some points for that.”

Recovery Girl approached their beds, “That’s very sweet, Toshinori, but it’s time for final check-ups. You can’t leave without them.”

Izuku breathed a little easier at the thought of finally leaving, he has been stuck in that place for much too long. The nurse flitted about, looking at this and that. She gave them both one final kiss each.

“Now off with you two,” Recovery Girl said, once done, “I don’t want to see either of you anytime soon!”

Leaving the building, Izuku took a deep breath in, slowly exhaling, trying to calm his racing mind. Yuki walked next to him, loosely holding onto his wrist, just enough to ground him in reality. She let him gather his bearings, before speaking up.

“Your phone buzzed a few times while you were asleep.”

He promptly dug his phone out of his bag. Checking it, he did in fact have multiple notifications. A few from his mother, letting him know she was notified about the USJ incident and asking if he was alright. He quickly responded to her frantic texts, making sure to assuage her worries. Then he checked the other messages.

Ashido Mina

Midori!!
r u ok?
heard u were with RG
hope ur not 2 hurt

hi!
yeah, I’m all good
broke some fingers but
it’s all better now, thanks
how’s everyone else?

happy to hear it!!
＼(≧▽≦)／

(⌒‿⌒)

everyones good on our end
wanted to let u know
no lessons tmrw
in case u didnt know

thank you!

He smiled at the exchange. Ashido has been texting his on and off for the past week. They never actually got talking about his hair, Izuku was too afraid to remind her, either way. She has been sending him memes and videos she found funny.

Sometimes, she would go on about films or shows she found interesting. At the same time, she would ask him about his interests. He never knew how to reply, really.

“Aw, my baby has friends,” Yuki teased, “It’s good to see they’re worried about you.”

Izuku huffed, a dusting of pink coating his cheeks.

“Hey, don’t give me that,” she poked his cheek, “I’m proud of you.”

He didn’t dignify her with a response, instead, he looked back to his phone. He had unread messages from the group chat with Uraraka and Iida. It was given a name courtesy of Uraraka.

Three Musketeers

Uraraka Ochaco
Dekuuu
Text us when u can
U were awesome, btw!

Iida Tenya
Indeed. Everyone said
you acted very heroically.
We would have visited you,
if we were allowed.

thanks guys!
I’m alright, RG healed me up
walking home rn

Uraraka Ochaco
Deku!

Iida Tenya
We’re glad to hear you’re
all better.

thank you
have you guys heard anything
about 13 or Aizawa-sensei?

Iida Tenya
When we asked about them,
the detective said they were
sent to the hospital. Luckily,
they will make a full recovery.

Uraraka Ochaco
Its all thanks to Iida!
He ran to alert all the other
teachers!

Iida Tenya
It was a joint effort. Everyone
fought with all they had.

Uraraka Ochaco
So humble!!!

Izuku chuckled at his friends’ antics. It was good to see than nobody seemed too shaken up by the attack. Spirits were still low, especially as everyone worried about their teachers’ wellbeing. But with time, Izuku didn’t doubt the class would pull through.

He just hoped Shirakumo was holding up alright. There was no sign of the ghost ever since they all left the facility. Likely he was with Aizawa, at the hospital, processing not only his friend being injured, but whatever transpired between him and the villain.

Izuku himself didn’t know what he saw. Was it even possible for multiple ghosts to be inside one beings? And, even if for a second, he saw Shirakumo twice. Like he had two ghosts. What did Kurogiri have to do with Shirakumo?

Not knowing whether Aizawa was alright or not was weighing on Izuku heavier than he had imagined. He has seen for himself the amount of damage Aizawa has suffered for all of them, he couldn’t imagine the man would get out of that unscathed.

Izuku held great respect for him as a hero, especially the work he has done for the quirkless community. Yet, to see him sacrifice his life like that, for a class of twenty students, has made him appreciate him all the more.

It was terrifying, seeing Aizawa’s body on the ground, laying in a pool of his own blood. Even before that, seeing the hero run into the crowd of villains, all on his own, was unnerving. The only thing keeping Izuku sane was the lack of the man’s ghost.

Although, the idea of getting to know Aizawa as a ghost was a comforting thought. He loathed to think so, he didn’t want anybody to die. Yet, if he was a ghost, Izuku would be able to confide in the man, do what Shirakumo asked of him.

Shirakumo would be able to talk to his friend again. Izuku could see how the ghost longed for his friend, he was sure it wasn’t easier on the other end, either.

He shook himself off of those thoughts. Aizawa was alive, after all, there was no point thinking about what could have been. He was sure his classmates didn’t have thoughts such as these, he could hear them sharing their best wishes for the man.

They were also speaking about their theories of who could have been their substitute teacher, while Aizawa was off, recovering. And they all looked expectantly to the door when the bell rang, broadcasting the start of lesson.

Shocking everyone, it was none other than Aizawa who walked through that door. He was nigh unrecognisable, covered head to toe in bandages and casts. His unmistakable black hair was a start contrast to the white of the fabric.

Shirakumo floated in behind him, as per the usual. He looked haggard, for a ghost, as if he hasn’t been sleeping in days. Emotional burden. Shirakumo also went through a lot at the USJ, but Izuku hasn’t yet seen the effect it had on the ghost.

Aizawa assumed his spot at the front of the class, before announcing UA’s annual Sports Festival. Surprised shouts rung out as everyone erupted into debate over the logistics of letting such an even go forth.

“Settle down,” Aizawa said, “I have another important announcement to make.”

Instantly, the room went silent. Curious gazes directed Aizawa’s way. He sounded more serious, catching everyone’s attention.

“Due to the events that transpired a couple days ago,” he began, “the principal has decided it necessary to introduce all of you to our school councillor. You will all complete one mandatory session with him, upon which you will be able to decide whether you’d like to continue.”

“Huh? What?” somebody said, mirroring everyone’s befuddlement.

“It is something we usually provide during your internships, to make sure everyone is ready for the mental burden of dealing with villains,” Aizawa further explained.

Izuku felt unease settle in his stomach. He’s never been to a school councillor, but he has seen a variety of psychiatrists and therapists. None of them did he particularly like. His experiences with them weren’t the most pleasant.

He noted that Kacchan hasn’t made a single remark about this course of action. In fact, he didn’t react at all. Izuku remembers when the boy was told he was losing hearing and that he needed hearing aids. A tantrum occurred, Kacchan refusing to acknowledge he needed the help.

Now, it felt like Izuku was the one unable to accept such thing. He knew counselling could be helpful for some people. But, he also knew it would be useless for him, like it was before.

He didn’t feel any different after the attack. He felt worried for his friends and teachers, and he was as scared as anybody else was. But, that didn’t mean he needed to change, this wasn’t outside his norm, he was always worried and scared.

“You will have your sessions scheduled in between now and the Sports Festival,” Aizawa added, “Not to worry, they will not impact your training for the festival in any way.”

And with that, he continued the home-room as normal, before the next teacher walked in to start their lesson. Once lunch began, the topic of counselling has been completely erased from the forefront of everyone’s minds.

“This is the perfect event for me,” Aoyama spoke as he struck a pose, “Every eye, every camera trained on moi~”

“Yeah! That’s the spirit!” Ashido applauded as Aoyama posed more.

A group formed around the excited duo as they danced and shared their enthusiasm. The pair would drag in person after person into their antics until they were all laughing and smiling.

“Aw, man,” whined Yuki, “I wanna join them.”

Izuku shook his head fondly, looking to the other side of the room instead of replying. He spotted Kouda gesturing anxiously as Sato spoke with him, occasionally nodding or shaking his head in response.

He remembered seeing Kouda using sign language to speak with Aizawa, once. The lively atmosphere of the classroom made Izuku wonder if he could walk up to the other and strike a conversation.

They were both introverted, plus, Kouda never spoke, and Izuku had a difficult time not stumbling over every word he said when he was nervous. The use of JSL would be a breath of fresh air for him.

As Sato left, Izuku slowly approached. He signed his greeting, before smiling meekly. Kouda’s eyes sparkled, as his own shy smile crossed his face. They talked for a few minutes about nothing in particular.

“You’re really good,” Kouda signed after a lull in conversation, “Where did you learn sign language?”

“I have a friend that’s hard of hearing,” Izuku replied, preferring not to mention that said friend was Kacchan.

The boy in question was looking at them, from where he was being pestered into a conversation by Kirishima and Kaminari. He sported a thoughtful look on his face before turning away.

“You’re much better than me, though,” he then added.

Kouda looked down, flustered, “I’m selectively mute. I don’t speak...much,” he fumbled with his hands anxiously.

Izuku smiled at him, “That’s okay. Are you excited for the Sports Festival?”

“It’s scary to know there will be so many people looking at me. But I’m ready to give it my all.”

“Me too!” Izuku leaned in, feeling determination set in, “I watch it every year, it’s surreal to think I would be part of it this year.”

Kouda nodded his agreement, just as pumped as Izuku.

“Hi!” Uraraka said, walking up to them, “We’re gonna get lunch, you coming with, Deku?”

He nodded at her, “You want to tag along?” he turned to Kouda.

“No, it’s okay.”

Uraraka looked to him confused, to which Izuku explained to her what he just signed to the other boy, with a nervous laugh. With a look of understanding, Uraraka grinned at Kouda.

“You can join us whenever you want! I love new company!” she exclaimed.

Kouda nodded at her vigorously, giving them a promising smile. They waved their goodbyes and walked off to find Iida and Asui to begin their journey over to the cafeteria for lunch. Making a new friend really wasn’t that hard.

“Come on in,” came the gruff, but warm, voice of Hound Dog, as Izuku knocked.

Hound Dog was sitting in a chair at his desk, facing the door. A smile graced his canine face, beckoning Izuku inside with a hand. He was pointed to sit at a comfortable-looking armchair.

The office was warm, both in temperature and colour. It looked starkly different to the blues and whites of the rest of the school. On the walls, picture frames hung – nothing specific on them, mostly natural landscapes.

Below the armchair was a rug, soft enough to bury your feet into. A filing cabinet was in the corner, behind Hound Dog, hidden to not draw attention to how it stood out. Papers and stationary were sprawled on the desk, quite haphazardly.

“Have you been to counselling, before? Or perhaps therapy?” the man asked.

“What’s the difference?” Izuku said curiously.

“Therapy is more comprehensive, while counselling tends to be specific.”

Izuku hummed, “I’ve been through something like that,” he finally replied.

Which was a slight understatement. He went to therapy, but he mostly dealt with psychiatrists. People there to diagnose him with something, asking him leading questions as if they already knew what was up with him.

They never found shit, although they acted as if they did, as if they knew everything. If this was what Izuku had to go through, he worried for people who needed a diagnosis. In the end, psychosis landed on his documents.

Hound Dog must have not been aware of that, and neither were the other teachers, since he wasn’t being treated like he was by people who knew. Izuku hadn’t even thought of that when applying to UA, having other concerns on his mind.

Luckily for him, it didn’t seem to be much of a problem, so far. He loathed to imagine a scenario where it was, because that was something he truly couldn’t do anything about. Did Recovery Girl know? She must’ve looked at his medical record.

“So you’re familiar with the process,” Hound Dog nodded, self-satisfied, “That’s good.”

He questioned who it was good for, because Izuku wasn’t particularly happy with what he went through. Although, he acknowledged, therapy wasn’t a bad experience to most.

Hound Dog started with the typical confidentiality talk. Izuku would have been lying If he said he wasn’t beginning to feel nervous. Aware of the topic, he was still uncertain of what specifics he would be asked of.

“Would you like to start with anything? Any initial concerns?” the hero asked.

That was already different. They never asked him such open questions, likely since he was six. But, that was precisely the issue. He wasn’t six, any more, he couldn’t let his mouth say what was on his mind.

He had to consider what people usually felt in a situation like the USJ, what they would focus on. Izuku would like to start with Kurogiri, and how heart wrenching it was to see Shirakumo so distraught. Yet, this wasn’t the time to be emotional.

“It was...scary,” Izuku began, “Seeing the villains fill the place. Um, I was scared my classmates would get hurt.”

A bit of the truth was allowed. He was scared, everyone else was also scared. He didn’t have to dig deeper than that, his chest was already buzzing with the memories. Sticking to what Hound Dog was expecting was safe.

Minutes passed, maybe ten, or more. Izuku was doing his best to talk about that day as much as he could, but with as little detail as possible. He didn’t know when the appropriate place to stop was, so he went in loops.

Hound Dog nodded and hummed kindly here and there. Never stopping Izuku, never looking bored or annoyed. It was as infuriating as it was anxiety inducing. Izuku didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing, and Hound Dog was not helping.

That uncertainty, and confusion eventually upset Izuku more than talking about the USJ. Him talking was performed on autopilot as his mind spiralled over the counselling itself, instead.

Those psychiatrist, nine years ago, were so easy to please. Izuku knew exactly what they needed from him, whether he gave it to them or not. Hound Dog was a blank wall, not giving anything away. Even Aizawa was easier to read.

Finally, finally, the man began asking questions of his own. Answering specific questions was easier. A truth or a lie readily available on his lips. A song and dance all too familiar to him.

The end of the hour came quickly, after that, with Izuku’s heart allowing itself to slow down to an acceptable pace. Hound Dog was speaking more now, and Izuku less, bringing the session to a close.

Quickly, he found himself outside the office. An hour, he had to spend talking about the USJ, to make him feel better, wasted. Izuku felt worse, in fact. His feelings towards the USJ didn’t change, but he did feel more on edge.

He planned to train, quickly afterwards. It sounded like a great distraction, and he wanted to forget. Thankfully, only the one hour was mandatory. There was no further reason for him to see Hound Dog, and, hopefully, nobody would press him to do so.

Chapter Text

The Sports Festival.

A three day event carried out by UA each and every year, where students get to compete with each other and show off their skills to pro heroes.

Izuku has been watching it since he could remember, even Yuki would join him, occasionally. It was the perfect opportunity for him to analyse different quirks and strategies, especially as all the events were different each year.

Sometimes, a new hero would debut and Izuku would recognise their quirk from a previous Sports Festival. It was an amazing feeling, to know he already had their quirk analysed. It made the process more thrilling.

This time, however, Izuku was going to be a part of it. One of the students fighting to win. It was nerve racking, but so exciting. To have such an opportunity was incredibly lucky, and Izuku wasn’t about to throw it away.

1-A was thrilled, too. They all worked hard to train for the festival. Determination ran through all their veins, as they prepared in the waiting room. Uraraka was exuding a competitive aura, inspiring those around her. While Kacchan was strolling about, smirking and singing himself praises.

The atmosphere made Izuku more amped up, fully ready to give it his all in every competition. Todoroki practically waging war against him made motivation course through his veins. He was ready to prove himself.

The first event, an obstacle course, went much better than Izuku could have expected. Without the use of One for All, he was able to finish first. Honestly, it shocked him just as much as it shocked Kacchan.

Succeeding in the cavalry battle was slightly less shocking. No less exhilarating, though. He had a great team, which helped him immensely despite having a huge target on his back. They made it to the 1v1 round with no set-backs.

In his first round, of the third even, things went a little differently, however. He was battling against Shinso, and, despite knowing the effects of his quirk, Izuku still fell for the boy’s taunts. His eyes glazed over, muscles relaxing.

Izuku walked towards the arena’s boundary, with no control over his feet. Everything was silent, and still for a few seconds, until, suddenly, whispers filled his head. Frantic, incomprehensible whispers, overlapping each other.

An entrance to a tunnel came into his vision. All Might stood there, shadowy figures floating all around him, their eyes glowing. One for All then awoke, inside his body. Izuku felt electricity run through his veins, down his arm.

In a snap, he woke up from the daze, two of his fingers broken. Looking frantically around, he noticed he hasn’t stepped through the boundary line yet, so, he elected to finish the fight first. It was easy, from then on, as he stayed completely silent.

The experience left him a little dizzy, as he tried to make sense of what happened. He stared thoughtfully at his broken fingers, as he made his way through the tunnels. Whispers? Why would Izuku hear whispers?

“Dude! Midoriya! What the fuck did I just see?” Shirakumo rushed towards him.

His eyes were blown wide, as if a dragon just flew over the arena.

“What was what?” Izuku inquired. He doubted anyone was aware of what Izuku just went through.

“Izuku!” Yuki called out from around the corner, upon turning, she exclaimed, “There you are, thank god.”

“Um,” he looked at them, back and forth.

Both ghosts decided to seek him out, when, earlier, they agreed on staying in the stands to avoid distracting him. And, why did they both look so frantic and shocked?

“The lights, man,” Shirakumo said, “How’d you do that?”

“Lights?” Izuku asked, worried.

Yuki looked at Shirakumo, eyes scolding, “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure only the ghosts could see it. It was those shadows, behind you. They started glowing? And spitting out lights like...like sparks!”

She clenched and unclenched her fists repeatedly, and made sounds for added effect. They sounded more like fireworks, rather than sparks, though.

“And then you broke your fingers,” Shirakumo added, nodding to the fingers in question.

Izuku opened his mouth, then closing it immediately. He was unsure of what to say. A light show wasn’t something he expected, when he woke up that morning. Suddenly curious, Izuku looked down at the shadows.

Instead of what he has grown used to – darker than usual shadows on the ground – they have now gained additional dimension. They appeared to be slicking up off of the floor, like characters in a pop-up book.

Eventually, Izuku formed a coherent question, “So...what exactly happened with the lights?”

“They jumped out at you, before One- your quirk activated,” Yuki shrugged.

“But how?” Shirakumo asked, face pensive, “I’ve never seen anybody be able to snap out of Brainwash.”

Izuku shook his head, “I don’t know.”

Yuki sighed, “We’ll talk about it later, we confirmed nothing bad happened,” she looked down at his hand, “Let’s get your fingers healed.”

“Yeah,” Izuku nodded, narrowing his eyes at the fingers.

Recovery Girl fixed him u quickly, and Izuku headed up to the stands, where his class was waiting. They congratulated him, before turning back to the ongoing battle. The first round of 1v1s went by, and before he knew it, Izuku was down there, again, this time to face Todoroki.

A boy, who before this, Izuku thought was cold and apathetic. But, throughout the course of the Sports Festival, he has learned not to judge by appearances. Hearing about the boy’s family life was harrowing, to say the least.

Endeavour was never a hero Izuku particularly liked. He was flashy, and defeated a great amount of villains. Yet, one only has to look a little further to realise the man had a horrible history with unnecessary property damage.

To find out that Endeavour was also abusive to his family was a punch in the gut. The reason for Todoroki’s stand-offish nature, and his refusal to use the fire he was born with. Izuku had to change that.

During their battle, Izuku not only fought for himself, but for Todoroki as well. Shouting, screaming at him to use his quirk. Izuku was like Kacchan, in that way; they both hated when somebody didn’t give it their all.

It sent a smile to Izuku’s face, when Todoroki hit him with a blast that made his skin burn. He did lose, but Izuku felt the fight went just as it should have. Whether he won or lost didn’t matter any more, as long as he made Todoroki see.

Unfortunately, he landed himself in the infirmary, one again. He refused to regret it, as much as being in the infirmary put him on edge. It was sterile and empty, something that didn’t make Izuku feel comforted.

Recovery Girl said he needed surgery, and after she was done, she also said that healing future self-inflicted injuries of his might be impossible. Izuku felt thoroughly scolded by the woman. Sadly, he didn’t think he would ever change.

With scarred arms covered in layers of bandage, Izuku once again returned to his class. He arrived with enough time to watch the finale. Todoroki wasn’t fighting with his fire, but, that was fine. He didn’t need to change immediately.

The Awards Ceremony came and went. It was, shockingly, much more depressing than Izuku remembered it being, when he was nothing but an observer. Everyone was silent, stuck deep in their own thoughts.

When it finished, the students were herded back to their classrooms. The three that made in to the podium weren’t any more enthused than the rest of them. Iida was gone, having excused himself after taking a call from his mother.

Aizawa didn’t make an attempt to lift the mood, sans praising them for their efforts. Izuku imagined he was used to this, after years as a teacher. After announcing a two day break from school, Aizawa dismissed the class.

“Midoriya, can I speak to you for a second?”

Izuku froze, body falling into fight-or-flight. He hasn’t been called out, after lessons, like that since Junior High. Forcing his feet to move, he walked over to the teacher’s podium.

“Yes, Sensei?”

“How are you injuries?” he asked.

“Well, uh, Recovery Girl said it should be fully healed in a few days. Just the scars remain.”

Aizawa nodded approvingly, “I presume she has already scolded you for being reckless?”

“Um, yes, she did,” Izuku looked down.

“Then I’ll spare you,” he began, “But, you do understand you don’t need to hurt yourself for the Sports Festival?”

“What he said,” Yuki murmured.

“Izuku swallowed his nerves, “I thought it necessary, at the time.”

Aizawa hummed, thinking it over, “I couldn’t hear what you were shouting to each other, but it had something to do with Todoroki’s fire, right?”

Izuku nodded, letting his head hang in a bow. Aizawa caught on quickly to his intentions.

“Why do you fight with your quirk, if you know it’s incredibly destructive to your body?”

“I’m working hard to control it, Sensei,” Izuku hung his head lower.

Aizawa sighed, but made no further comment. They both knew, after all, that Izuku was simply deflecting the question.

“You’re determined, but clearly need a lot more practice,” Aizawa began, “After we’re both out of bandages, you’ll be having personalised training with outside of school, to work on your control. We’ll go over the schedule next time.”

His eyes widened. That wasn’t something he had expected from a teacher.

Izuku blinked a few times, “That’s...Yes, Sensei. Thank you,” he would’ve bowed if he could.

The movement was minute, but Izuku thought he noticed the bandages on Aizawa’s twitch, as if in amusement.

“Go home, now, Midoriya,” Aizawa said, “Get some rest.”

“Thank you, Sensei,” he said again.

Turning on his heel, Izuku made his way towards the door. Except, he paused before opening it. Todoroki probably expected for him not to tell anyone about Endeavour, but, this was the perfect opportunity.

Izuku wasn’t able to do anything against the number two hero, but, maybe, UA could. Besides, Aizawa was a good person, he would want to help Todoroki, right? What was the harm in telling the man?

There was the possibility of Todoroki losing whatever trust he had for Izuku, but, wasn’t that worth it? He fucked himself up so badly during that battle, just for him not to help out his friend further?

“Midoriya? Was there anything else?”

Izuku jumped, startled. He took too long, now Aizawa was getting impatient. He should just tell him, that would be for the best, probably. Here goes nothing.

“Actually, um, yes,” Izuku started slowly, looking at his teacher, “The thing with Todoroki, um, he told me something today. It was about his father. I’m worried for him.”

Aizawa was silent for a moment, “I’m listening, go on.”

“He didn’t tell me outright, but, I’m pretty sure he’s hurting his children, and his wife. Todoroki refused to fight with his fire because of his father.”

“Alright, I understand. Would you be able to tell me everything Todoroki shared with you?”

Izuku nodded, before doing just that. From the quirk marriage to surpassing All Might. Aizawa didn’t interrupt, only nodding encouragingly at certain parts.

“Thank you for telling me, Midoriya,” he said once Izuku finished, “You did the right thing by telling me.”

He desperately hoped so. There was no promises, no solutions, but Izuku could rest easier knowing that a hero was now aware of the situation.

When he woke up the next morning, Izuku was adamant to ignore how much the Sports Festival fucked with his psyche. He was up for hours, worried for Todoroki and Iida. His arms were a pain to sleep with, too. In the end, he only got a couple hours of rest.

So, instead, he resigned himself to watching re-runs on the TV in the early hours of the morning. His mother woke up, a few hours later. Izuku had to wait for her to make him food, because he was unable to do anything himself. He would feel guilt over the fact, if not for how the exhaustion left him with no energy to do so.

Before leaving for work, his mother even made sure to leave him plates full of food in the fridge, so he could easily heat them up once he got hungry. The little breakfast he shared with her did lift his mood, a little, too.

With the house empty, except for himself and two ghosts, Izuku was left with very few options of how to occupy himself. The TV was the most promising candidate. He sat in between Yuki and Yamaguchi on the couch, as the latter surfed through the channels.

It was fun, for the first couple of hours. Instead of settling for something concrete, they looked through what the TV had to offer. Yuki made a lot of quips about the trash that always played, Yamaguchi frequently joining in with her, as Izuku listened, amused.

They would watch twenty minutes of a random show, before debating with each other about what they thought it was about, or making fun of the plot lines they didn’t like. Izuku would sometimes take guesses on how he thought the show would end.

Everyone was left giggling and snorting by the time afternoon rolled around, in a way that Izuku hadn’t thought they would be. He wasn’t one to watch the TV often, so he had never considered what kind of stuff he could find. It made for better entertainment than he had expected.

Around 2PM, Shirakumo showed up. Making his presence known by loudly imitating a knock right outside the front door. Yuki burst out laughing at the sudden noise, but was quick to let the other ghost in. They settled around the couch, again.

“For what reason do we owe the pleasure of seeing you today?” Yuki asked, punctuated by a western bow.

Shirakumo pointed a finger at them, “You guys got some explaining to do,” he accused, before softening his gaze, “But I also wanted to check on my favourite green bean. We were all worried.”

Izuku laughed nervously, “Yeah...I’ll be fine, soon.”

“A good thing, that,” Yamaguchi pat his knee, “Your mother fainted when she saw you get hurt on TV yesterday.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, as did Yuki’s, at the news.

“Welp,” Shirakumo said, “It was one hell of a performance, though. Zashi was still talking about it this morning.”

“Ah, well...” he trailed off, face warming.

“And, dude,” Shirakumo grinned, his enthusiasm growing, “The obstacle race! That was beautiful. To think of using a scrap sheet of metal from the robots to propel yourself on the mines. The mines! You’re a genius, Midoriya!”

Shirakumo was gesturing wildly, which only made the praise hit harder. It made Izuku splutter, not knowing what to say. Yamaguchi squeezed his knee, letting him know she agreed with the ghost.

“How did you pick that up, anyway? I don’t think you used your quirk that entire time,” Shirakumo asked, tone incredulous.

Yuki chuckled, “You’re not gonna get him to admit it, but Izuku’s strong as fuck,” she intoned, “He could probably throw a washing machine, if he so wished.”

“What? I’m...I’m not that strong,” Izuku said, his ears were burning.

She pointed with her thumb, “See? Won’t admit it.”

Shirakumo barked a laugh, a surprised yet impressed sound. Yamaguchi chuckled with him, clearly enjoying how Yuki was embarrassing Izuku. Unlike Izuku, who wanted to sink into the couch and never come back.

“What did you come here for, again?” Izuku asked loudly, needing his face to cool down.

“Right, right,” he calmed down, “Your quirk. Something happened when you fought Shinso, and you know more than you let on. And what does it all have to do with All Might?”

“All Might?” Izuku said, feigning ignorance.

Shirakumo deadpanned, “I can, too, see the ghost shadows, or whatever they are, around you both.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that. And then they reacted to your quirk, and now they look different. Something is going on.”

Sighing in defeat, Izuku explained One for All to Shirakumo, what he knew about it, at least. The growing look of bewilderment growing on the ghosts face didn’t make him any less nervous, either.

“I think the shadows are the past seven holders of One for All, so both me and All Might have them. But I don’t know why they changed,” he finished.

Shirakumo hummed, nodding, “So what happened during your fight?”

“I don’t actually really know. I heard whispers right before One for All activated, so maybe, that was the past users’ doing? But I don’t have any concrete evidence, either.”

“I’d say that’s the most likely answer, isn’t it?” Yuki added.

“But,” Shirakumo said, “Why wouldn’t they have done something like that before?”

He brought up a good point. Why was that when the past users decided to show themselves? They haven’t done so at the USJ, when he was in the most danger. Nor have they done it in a random lesson, when he was already using the quirk.

“I wasn’t in any control over my body, because of Shinso’s quirk,” an idea suddenly popped into his head, “That must’ve given them the control.”

“Oh, dear,” Yamaguchi whispered.

Shirakumo looked mildly petrified, “So you’re telling me you’re possessed? What if Shinso used Brainwash on you for longer?”

Yuki winced, “I guess we just have to make sure that never happens.”

“I don’t think they’re malicious, though,” Izuku said.

He found himself believing that, too. Izuku hasn’t felt any bad intent from their interaction at the Sports Festival. There has also been an unexplainable...feeling, that has been at the back of his mind since then, which eased any fear he could have had towards the shadows.

“I hope so, man,” Shirakumo crossed his arms, “Also, you’ve had this quirk since February?”

“Not enough time, if you asked me,” Yuki grumbled, still angry at All Might.

Izuku shifted uncomfortably on the couch, knowing what came next. He didn’t want to hear it, more concern over his poor control.

“Props to you, dude,” he whistled, “I would have gave up so long ago. You’ve got some spirit.”

Izuku stared at him in shock. That was the first time he heard something other than worry. He didn’t expect to be praised, why would he be praised? He shouldn’t have been breaking bones from the start.

“And now that Shouta will be training you, you’ll be even more powerful!” Shirakumo clapped his hands in excitement, “You’re gonna tell him, right?”

Izuku hummed in question, narrowing his eyes at the other.

“About One for All. You haven’t told him yet, right?” he said, an expectant smile on his face.

“It’s supposed to be a secret. I won’t be telling anybody,” Izuku replied, confused.

Shirakumo furrowed his eyebrows, “What? But he’s your teacher? How is he supposed to teach you control if he doesn’t know about your quirk?”

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone, though,” he looked down as he began fiddling with a string in between his fingers.

“But you told me,” Shirakumo said, puzzled.

“We’re ghosts, Shirakumo,” Yuki said slowly, “We can’t do anything with the information.”

“Oh, right,” he spoke quietly, as if he had just realised.

It was silent for a moment. Izuku knew where he was coming from, Yuki has been trying to convince him to tell somebody since All Might proposed the quirk in the first place. He didn’t want to break the hero’s trust like that, he told him not to tell anybody.

Yamaguchi hummed, before speaking up, “I understand your apprehension, Izuku, dear. I’ve lived a long life, I’ve been in a place like yours before. Finding somebody you can trust is important, and it seems like that teacher of yours is worth considering.”

Izuku opened his mouth, but closed it soon after. He looked at Yamaguchi, who hasn’t said anything on the topic until now. Yamaguchi was wise, and she never gave advice she hadn’t thought through thoroughly.

But, doubt crept up his spine. There was every likelihood that something went entirely wrong. Aizawa was a trusted individual, and he has always admired Eraserhead, but what if? What if?

“All Might’s told people, why can’t you?” Yuki said.

“Think about it, dear,” Yamaguchi said with an air of finality, pushing the topic to a close.

Izuku nodded. He could do that. He could think about it; that was an easy promise to make. Yamaguchi shot his a proud smile, squeezing his knee once again. Then, she turned back to the TV, turning the volume up so everyone had to focus on it.

The four of them silently watched the TV together, needing to give themselves space after the previous conversation. Eventually, they went back to the same game they played before Shirakumo arrived, but with the addition of the ghost.

Izuku breathed, releasing a sigh of relief. He was grateful for the break from everything.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s arms needed nothing more than bandages by the time school started up again. They still ached, though, especially his fingers. His hands shook when he tried picking something up, and his joints ached with a simple movement.

Aizawa was also fully rid of his casts and bandages – only a scar under his eye told of what happened at the USJ. It was good to see his teacher’s face, after two weeks of it being covered. The bandages made it harder to see what he was thinking.

The class has recuperated over the long weekend, now back to it’s lively atmosphere. Conversations of their newfound fame rang out through the classroom; stories of being stopped on the streets to be praised.

Iida, however, was completely untouched by the enthusiasm of the others. He tried to hide it, but Izuku noticed how he evaded any attempt at bringing up the topic of his brother. He was completely closing himself off from them, which didn’t sit right with Izuku.

He was too serious, too stoic, even when Midnight came in to help them choose their hero names. The rest of the class was pumped, on the other hand. Choosing a hero name was a huge step towards becoming a pro, after all.

Izuku, himself, struggled with choosing his name. Not for a lack of knowing what it would be, but for the sheer amount of doubt he held. He didn’t know if the name was a smart idea; what people would think of it. But, eventually, his decision was made.

Deku.

He held up his white board, standing before the class. Albeit shaky, the name was clear for everybody to see. Shocked looks and worried sounds carried through the silent room. Midnight asked him whether he was sure.

Izuku gave them an answer, one he believed, too. The name had a different meaning now, it meant he would never give up, no matter what. A name that symbolised hope, to all that have lost it.

There was a second reason, one he did not voice. The name has been a big part of his life for nearly a decade, at that point. It was his, just as it was Kacchan’s. Deku was Izuku. Izuku was Deku. An insult created by a childhood friend, a nickname used by Kacchan since.

Deku was a hero, because Deku has survived. Because Deku was created from Izuku’s need to be a hero and Izuku’s connection to Kacchan. That was all Izuku needed, to know how important Deku was.

Kacchan stared at him, or rather at the whiteboard. His wide gaze was trained on the word, unblinking. He was frozen in his chair, an expression Izuku couldn’t read on his face. It was thoughtful, and surprised, but everything else was a mystery.

It came at a complete contrast to the Kacchan from a year ago. Back then, if Kacchan saw him hold up that whiteboard, there would be no stopping the boy, as explosions sparkled from his palms and words were spit out of his mouth. He would probably accuse Izuku of plagiarism.

With their names chosen, they were each handed lists of which heroes they could pick for internships. Izuku didn’t receive any offers, thus he got the list of heroes who partnered with UA, who were willing to take a student under their wing.

Even with a much smaller list than others, Izuku was still unable to decide. Unlike some of his classmates, who had it all figured out right away. Many, like Asui, were at peace with their first pick. Even Uraraka, though unexpected, was quick to make her choice.

His help came in the form of All Might, as Izuku was leaving for the day. He introduced him to Gran Torino, an old, retired hero who once taught him. The man was another person who knew of One for All, which came as a shock to Izuku, since All Might hasn’t talked about Gran Torino once.

It soon became obvious as to why he didn’t, because All Might was horrible at hiding his nerves when talking about him. It was so bad Yuki began feeling sorry for the hero, which was another thing that has never happened.

What caught Izuku’s attention the most, though, was the way the shadows behind him reacted to the mention of Gran Torino. It was actually just one of them, as the silhouette started flickering and warbling.

As it happened, Izuku felt a momentary excitement, one that he knew not to be his own. A warmth in his chest, as his heart began beating faster. He felt like a puppy all too hyper about their human coming back home.

The feeling was so foreign, in that moment, that he had no other option but to chalk it up to the past users. Gran Torino must have been a friend of one of them, hence they acted so delighted. It felt so personal, too, making Izuku feel like he was intruding.

It happened again, when Izuku, along with Yuki, were about to knock on the man’s front door. The user must have recognised the place. Which checked out, because it looked old enough for such a thing.

Gran Torino was an eccentric old man. Izuku’s first impression of him was the man feigning a corpse. The prank, however, was useless when performed on a person who could see the dead. It was a good attempt.

At least, Izuku learned how to distribute the power of One for All across his whole body, with Gran Torino’s help. Aizawa would be happy with the progress. As an added bonus, Yuki found his humour funny, which, Izuku wanted to question, but made the executive decision to let her be.

Everything was pleasant, until the Nomu attacked the train he and the hero were on. Monstrous form barely visible through the amalgamation of human ghosts that made up the creature. All Might hasn’t been spotted in Hosu, so why would the League attack? The attack made no immediate sense.

An idea then popped up in his head. Stain was recently in Hosu. An All Might admirer, and a vigilante with the goal to eradicate corrupt heroes. He has been rising in popularity lately, and a lot of villains were coming out in an attempt to pull that attention onto themselves.

Before he could spiral into conspiracies, Izuku realised there was a more pressing matter he should be focusing on. Iida was interning in Hosu, and his suspicious behaviour before leaving didn’t go unnoticed.

Whether it was the right course of action or not never crossed Izuku’s mind, as he jumped out of the train in order to look for Iida. At the least, he called for backup – as lacklustre as sending his location to people was – when he finally found his friend, underneath the blade of the villain.

Stain was an interesting character, in Izuku’s opinion. As much as Izuku did not like murder, he could not look at Stain’s ideology and say it was completely flawed. Many of the heroes he killed were corrupt, and did deserve their power to be stripped from them. Izuku was never sure, however, whether death was the way to go.

With Iida, however, it got too personal. Therefore, in the end, Stain was tied up and taken to the heroes. Yet, Izuku was left to question everything once again, when the man escaped his bindings only to save him from the flying Nomu.

Although, he wasn’t given the time to ruminate on it, because as Stain was being taken to prison, Todoroki, Iida and Izuku were sent to the nearest hospital. Izuku really, really despised hospitals. UA’s infirmary had nothing on them.

Hospitals were unnervingly impersonal. So cold and clinical. The walls didn’t care about your pain, they didn’t care about the trauma you experienced inside them. The beds couldn’t care less about how many people died in them.

Hospitals were filled to the brim with death and birth. A person died, a ghost was thus born. A person died, a ghost would wail. Screams of denial and bargaining in grief of one’s own life.

Their sorrow carried through the halls, creating a melancholic choir. Izuku couldn’t deal with it, not when he had to act as if he wasn’t drowning in it. No corner of the hospital was safe from the reverberating cries.

It sent Izuku into a dissociative state. His mind couldn’t process everything that was happening. Memories of the place were like distant, underwater objects he could only view through his clouded eyes.

A week on, and Izuku could only remember a police officer coming by, Izuku assumed it was to scold them for their recklessness. Uraraka called, but Izuku wasn’t sure what their conversation topic ended up being. He was sure Yuki also tried to speak with him, but hospitals weren’t a safe place to talk to ghosts.

Their stay wasn’t long, or maybe it was. But, eventually, he was allowed to leave, it took everything in him to walk and not run. The dissociation carried over into his last day with Gran Torino, although it wasn’t as overwhelming.

He couldn’t be happier to be to go back home. His mother worried, but at least he’d get a hug from her. He would be able to sleep in his own bed, relax in his only safe place. Yamaguchi was there, to sit by his bedside as he fell asleep, just like she did nine years prior.

But, after a week, he has reasonably calmed down from the episode he had at the hospital. Which was great for Izuku, because he only had to explain himself to Todoroki and Iida, instead of the whole class. Or, worse, Aizawa.

As he got close to the school – still a little shaken – he was flanked by the two boys. Iida to his left, Todoroki to his right. He smiled at them, but both their expressions were tight laced with concern.

“Are you alright, Midoriya?” Todoroki asked. Despite his ever-present monotone, his voice held a hint of worry.

“My injuries healed well,” he replied.

There were scars where the Nomu dug its claws into him, they still felt tender. All the bruises and cuts from Stain were mainly gone, if only a ping of pain came from them occasionally. His joints ached, specifically in his hands, but that wasn’t what Todoroki had asked for.

Iida chopped his arm up and down, “That’s good to hear. But we were more concerned with your behaviour at the hospital.”

They entered the shoe locker, working quickly to change into the appropriate footwear. It was a quick affair, and soon they resumed their walk.

“How do you mean?” he asked, despite not wanting to know.

“You were very silent,” Todoroki supplied, “And quite distant.”

“When Uraraka called,” Iida added, “I wouldn’t want to assume, however, you sounded very...”

“Apathetic,” Todoroki finished for him.

Izuku flustered. He was never called out for how he acted when dissociated, so he has never noticed how rude he might have come off. Todoroki was right to call him out, even as Iida scolded him for his blasé approach.

“It’s alright, Iida,” Izuku pulled at his fingers, “You’re right. I’ll apologise to Uraraka.”

Todoroki nodded in acknowledgement, just as they made it to their floor. Izuku hung his head, minutely. He didn’t like to be presented with his own shitty behaviour, but he liked knowing he did so while dissociated even less.

Iida frowned a little, “We don’t want you thinking we are calling you rude, because of this. It is quite understandable for you to be out of it, after our encounter with Stain. I...wasn’t so nice to you, either, after I heard my brother was injured.”

“And then Stain saved you from that Nomu. Sounds conflicting,” Todoroki added.

Izuku hadn’t actually thought much about that, but, now that somebody pointed it out, Izuku would surely find a moment to mull it over properly. It was as good an excuse as any, as not to speak about his experience with hospitals.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said softly, “I would like to ask him why he did that.”

“I’m sure Uraraka will understand once you explain everything to her,” Iida said resolutely, “I’m sure she is just worried about all of us.”

“Thank you, Iida,” Izuku smiled up at the other.

Their classroom neared, which killed the current topic of conversation. It was strange, that although his friends called him out for clearly impolite behaviour, but they acted concerned about it, instead of angry or disappointed.

Izuku was curious if that was a normal way for friends to treat each other.

“Today, we’ll just go over which parts of your body you use when activating your quirk,” Aizawa drawled.

He and Izuku found themselves inside Gym Gamma, where they decided to carry out their training. It was empty, aside from them and some mats. Yuki and Shirakumo were also there, to cheer him on, supposedly.

“So far, I’ve noticed you can use it in your arms and legs, correct?” the question came out as more of a statement.

Izuku bit his lip, “Actually, I’ve learned how to use it across my whole body, during my internship.”

Aizawa nodded approvingly, though his eyebrow rose slightly in surprise. Shirakumo, leaning against the wall next to his friend, clapped his hands at hearing the news. He sent two thumbs up at Izuku.

“And how did that happen?”

Izuku flushed from neck to ears, before explaining the taiyaki metaphor. Yuki burst out laughing at hearing the story, as if she hadn’t laughed at him while it happened, too. Shirakumo, on the other hand, looked proud and thoughtful, as if what he had just said was wise.

Aizawa narrowed his eyes at Izuku, “I guess if it works for you. And how did Gran Torino help with that?”

Izuku wasn’t the only one who heard the suspicion in the hero’s voice, “Sho has been sceptical of the guy since you began our internship,” Shirakumo said, “Who the fuck becomes a teacher for just a year?”

Izuku knew, of course, but he wasn’t able to explain as such. Besides, there was no way for him to explain it to Aizawa, either, without mentioning One for All.

“So he didn’t?” Aizawa said, taking his silence as his failure to think of a reason.

“N-no! He did,” he flailed his hands about, “He taught me a lot!”

“To be honest, the old man’s yapping was pretty cryptic. You just kinda stumbled upon the answers,” Yuki said.

Shirakumo looked at her, brows furrowed.

“For example?” his teacher prompted.

“Um, his quirk, Jet, let’s him bounce off the walls. I started learning how to do that. I’ve gotten pretty fast.”

“And did he teach you that? Or is it something you’re imitating,” Aizawa raised an eyebrow, again.

“Uh,” he hesitated.

His teacher sighed, disappointed. Izuku probably shouldn’t have said anything, after all, he has just confessed to training without a hero present.

“The internship was, clearly, useful to you, but seemingly not due to Gran Torino,” Aizawa pushed himself from the wall, “Which leads me to ask, why did you intern with him?”

Izuku froze, not knowing how to climb out of the hole he dug himself into. The only reason he chose Gran Torino was because All Might knew him, and because the retired hero knew about One for All. Otherwise, Izuku would be too scared to intern under a hero he had no previous knowledge of.

“Well, um...he was the only hero to offer one to me,” Izuku tried, but he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice.

“Then, let me ask you this. Why do you think he offered you the internship? He hasn’t been a hero for decades. Besides, his career is very poorly documented.”

Aizawa was trying to get at something, but all it managed to do is spike Izuku’s adrenaline. He couldn’t think of a decent enough excuse, so he continued fiddling with his fingers and looking down at the floor.

The last time a teacher has been so persistent at getting Izuku to explain something was when they believed Izuku was cheating on his tests. Using that same tone of voice, trying to prove to Izuku that quirkless people just couldn’t be as smart as his grades showed.

Yuki walked close to him, being able to read his panicked state. She put a hand on his shoulder, a welcome pressure. Shirakumo stayed at a distance, as to not crowd Izuku, but his face was strained with worry.

“Look, Midoriya,” Aizawa began, tone gentle, “There’s something about your quirk, that made you choose Gran Torino. Your control has been horrible, at the beginning of the year, but there’s obviously something deeper than you being a cocky teenager who refused to learn it.

“Gran Torino must’ve held some knowledge, something you are unwilling to share with me, about how your quirk works. There would be logically no reason for you to choose a retired hero, otherwise.”

And he was right. That was exactly the reason. Which didn’t mean Izuku was suddenly on board with telling Aizawa all about it. He wanted to hide, instead.

“Come on, Midoriya,” Shirakumo pleaded, “He wants to help you, I promise.”

Yuki frowned beside him, “Please, Izuku. I know... I don’t want you to keep making yourself suffer with keeping this a secret. It’s not like All Might can take your quirk away, not even by force.”

Izuku’s breath hitched at the reminder, he wasn’t thinking about that, actually, but it added onto his panic. He tried considering it, for the ghosts’ sakes. Having a teacher could be a good idea, if he were to actually help Izuku.

Aizawa was already onto something. He was clever and way too observant for Izuku’s liking. If given the chance, Aizawa could probably find out the truth by himself, with time. But, did that also mean he would know Izuku was quirkless?

Aizawa moved, which startled Izuku, making him flinch. He could tell how much Izuku was hesitating, and was now sporting a concerned pinch to his brow. But why? Aizawa scanned his face, before crouching down in front of him.

“Midoriya,” he said, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, if that’s too difficult. But I need to ask. Would you be in danger, if you told me?”

Izuku’s eyes widened, but he took a second to think it through. He shook his head, doubting that All Might would do anything so drastic. He was a hero, it wouldn’t be like him to put another in danger.

Aizawa silently let out a breath, “That’s good. Are you afraid I would hurt you, if you told me?”

He shook his head sooner, that time. Izuku was sure Aizawa would never harm one of his students, not after the way he was ready to lay his life down for them at the USJ.

Aizawa visibly deflated at the confirmation, “Are you afraid that I would suspend you? Or expel you?”

Izuku was less sure when he shook his head. He might, though, if he learned that Izuku was actually quirkless, or lying about the fact that he was quirkless.

Yuki squeezed his shoulder, as best as she could, “I really think you can trust him, Izuku.”

Worst of all, he was starting to believe that too. Aizawa was trying to hide it, but Izuku could see how much he relaxed at Izuku’s admission of not fearing sustaining harm from his teacher. He was unaware of how heavily that weighed on Aizawa’s shoulders.

Izuku took a deep breath, “I...I got this quirk right before the entrance exam,” he whispered, voice shaky.

The other’s eyes widened minutely, “How long before?”

“A few hours.”

Izuku couldn’t stand looking at his teacher, but he needed to see how he would react. Aizawa was evidently shocked, but was trying to keep a calm composure. That was already more than Izuku could have asked for.

“That explains your poor quirk control, then.”

As he spoke, Aizawa lowered himself so he was sitting down on the gym’s floor. He nodded at Izuku, motioning for him to also sit down. He did.

He anxiously looked around the gym, “The quirk was passed down to me. By All Might. It’s called One for All, I’m it’s ninth holder.”

Aizawa took the information in stride, not confronting Izuku about the lie that it sounded like. Instead, he held a curious air to him, as if he was connecting the dots of the mystery that was Izuku.

“How is it passed on?”

“Through DNA,” and then, because he was aware how wrong that sounded, he added, “He gave me a hair. That’s all!”

His teacher looked mildly perturbed, but didn’t question it further, “I guess that is the only logical solution,” he sighed, “And how did you two meet? It wasn’t at UA.”

“He saved me from a villain, ten months before the exam.”

Aizawa raised his eyebrow, “We’ll talk about the villain later, because that wasn’t in your files. Why did All Might only give you the quirk before the exam, and not when he met you?”

“I didn’t have enough muscle mass, I had to train first,” he refused to tell the man that his limbs would have exploded.

“And did your mother know about this?”

“No, uh, no,” Izuku stuttered.

Aizawa was silent for a minute before he spoke again, “This quirk, One for All. How many people know about it?”

Izuku pulled at his finger until it hurt, “I’m not entirely sure, really. Recovery Girl knows, and the principal, too, apparently. Gran Torino. The detective who questioned us after the USJ, too. And All Might mentioned a friend of his knew.”

“Have you told anybody.”

“Not, not really. Kacchan knows the quirk is borrowed, he might be able to figure it out, though,” Izuku explained.

“I’m glad you trusted me with this,” Aizawa said, “I’ll be able to personalise your training more thoroughly with this knowledge. I’ll be sure to discuss this with Yagi, too.”

Izuku’s heart stuttered, “Uh, can I talk to him, first?” Izuku looked away, ashamed.

“Of course, take your time, kid,” he said with a slight up-tick to his lips, “It’s your secret to share, now, you don’t have to ask him, every time.”

“Well, I haven’t yet,” Izuku murmured, though Aizawa clearly heard, because he let out an amused huff.

“Anything else about that quirk of yours I should know, now?”

Izuku thought for a second, coming up with nothing, “I don’t really know much about the quirk, myself.”

Aizawa sighed, “That’s alright. Let me know once you have told All Might, I’ll get the information I need from him.”

Izuku nodded quickly, surprised at how well it went.

Aizawa got up from the gym floor with a grunt, Izuku followed. He looked to Izuku, casting his gaze down to his hands. His beat up, scarred hands, that had a permanent shake to them, now.

“Let’s finish up here, for today. There’s no reason for us to do any training, at this time,” Aizawa drawled.

“But...we haven’t done anything?” it came out more as a question.

“We’ve learned a lot,” he corrected, not unkindly, “The whole purpose of this was to help with your quirk, no? You told me information that will greatly improve the efficiency of my lessons. It’s a logical first lesson.”

“Say’s the man who went straight into a quirk test, on the first day,” Yuki quipped.

Izuku couldn’t help the amused scoff he let out, looking sideways at the ghost. He tried to hide it with a cough. Aizawa noticed the movement, and with furrowed brows followed Izuku’s line of sight. He momentarily looked confused, looking back at Izuku, who tried to act as if nothing happened.

“Um, thank you, Sensei,” he bowed.

His teacher nodded, gaze softening again, “Of course.”

The next day, during lunch, All Might asked Izuku to speak with him, privately. During their lesson, earlier, Izuku was able to showcase the technique he learned at his internship. Izuku hoped that was all the hero wanted to talk about. Desperately.

All Might didn’t look angry, nor disappointed. After he left his training with Aizawa, Izuku texted his mentor. A short message, just stating that Izuku has told Aizawa about One for All. He was too sick to think about saying that out loud, to the man.

It was cowardly of him, he knew. He wasn’t able to say such an important thing to him in person. He could have waited until the next day, but he felt like throwing up, the more he put the task off. Izuku had to talk about it in person, anyway.

All Might got through his praises quickly, before he disappeared. Told him how proud he was of his progress, during their lesson. But then, he became serious, implying they needed to speak about One for All.

Izuku took the serious tone for what it was. An incoming lecture, or the threat of some punishment, whatever it might be, or the hero explaining how disappointed he was in Izuku for sharing his secret without permission.

He was expecting consequences, when, once his message went through, all he got in reply was That’s okay, Young Midoriya and nothing else. All Might clearly didn’t want to scold him over text. The short response made him spiral, and he still thought about it the following day.

He knocked on All Might’s office, walking in when he was let in. Yuki was right behind him, unable to hide her own anxiety, as hard as she tried. She didn’t trust All Might, and Izuku’s own worries must have gotten to her more than she let on.

On the couch, to Izuku’s surprise, sat both All Might and Aizawa. Shirakumo was absent from the hero’s side. A chill ran down his spine when All Might looked to him, but he bowed in greeting nonetheless.

Aizawa was first to talk, “Sit down, Midoriya,” and Izuku instantly relaxed some.

Izuku did as told, looking anywhere but at the two teachers. His eyes looked to Yuki, instead, who sat down on the floor in front of him, a little to the right. He felt a calm, suddenly, shoulders relaxing. An onset of emotion not his own, but belonging to the One for All’s users.

“We talked this morning,” Aizawa began, “It turns out Yagi wanted to share something about the quirk with you, so I decided to be here, as well.”

“You’re not in trouble, my boy,” All Might said, sensing his growing unease, “Telling Aizawa was the right choice.”

A weight dropped from his shoulders, “I’m still sorry for not asking you, beforehand.”

“There’s no reason for that. You told me afterward, which was still the right thing to do. Such spontaneous decisions are hard to plan for.”

Izuku wanted to cry, again. He was overwhelmed with emotion. It was stupid of him to doubt his mentor, when has he ever told Izuku that he did something wrong?

“Now,” All Might’s expression turned more grave as he leaned out of his seat, “I wanted to tell you of One for All’s origin. The information will also, most likely, be useful for Aizawa to know.”

“Useful?” the other asked, “Useful to me as a teacher, or for a hero to know?”

All Might’s frown somehow turned even more sombre, “Let me tell you both a story of two brothers.”

As he shared the horrifically traumatic story, Izuku noticed one of the shadows moving in his periphery. They were shaking, but unlike with Gran Torino, it was in fear, or maybe distress. Izuku, momentarily, felt rage bubble up inside him.

It must have been the first. The story was about him, after all. Izuku couldn’t imagine having a sibling who betrayed him so deeply. Or, maybe he could. This was by far the strongest reaction to anything that the users have had.

Aizawa was listening to the story with a much more poised demeanour. Although, his natural frown was more akin to a scowl. Izuku wondered what his teacher was thinking about, in that moment.

All Might was dramatic in his retelling, how monstrous the Symbol of Evil truly was. His voice boomed when it needed to, but then came down to a whisper in moments of high emotion. When he finished, the room fell into silence, letting everybody process what they just heard.

Aizawa breathed in, “This All For One is still alive, yes?”

“We have reason to believe so. We have done tests on the Nomu we caught, they found traces of DNA from multiple people, and they show signs of multiple quirks, a feat only All For One is capable of,” All Might scowled.

Izuku felt bile rise up in his throat, as his previous theory was confirmed. All those ghosts, people who were being held half-alive to create a monster. An amalgamation of people to serve the worst monster of all.

“All For One is back,” he suddenly said.

But he didn’t say it alone. There was a force guiding his vocal cords into making these sounds. He felt Aizawa’s eyes on him, but the man refrained from commenting.

His teacher looked to All Might, no longer hiding his scowl, “You put all this responsibility on a child?”

All Might sighed, the sound defeated – the meeting was full of those. He looked out of the window, but he wasn’t focusing on anything he saw in the distance. There was an emotion in his eyes that he didn’t put voice to.

Izuku felt the need to brighten the mood, “I’ll do my best!” he exclaimed with his best attempt at a smile.

Both heroes looked at him, something akin to pity in both their eyes. Izuku knew that wasn’t what they wanted from him, but that was the best thing he could give them, at the moment. It did change the atmosphere slightly, make it less oppressive. It put an end to their depressive conversation, for sure.

Chapter Text

“How will we ever get to the summer camp, if the midterms were this difficult!?” Kaminari shook Ashido by the shoulders.

“We’re gonna die!” Ashido disparaged.

Izuku chuckled at their dramatic display. They were the focus of the class, amused glances sent their way from every angle. Watching them complain so animatedly was significantly more pleasant than thinking of their own worries.

With what he learned about his quirk, and the panicking he went through beforehand, Izuku was glad for the distraction. He could cast his attention onto academics, instead of anything else, at least for a time.

Their midterm results were given out, which caused the duo’s panic. It surprised Izuku, a little bit, to see how low Kaminari had scored. He remembers the boy speaking fluently in English, once, and he frequently made obscure literary references.

What didn’t come as a shock to anybody, however, was Yaoyorozu and Iida scoring at the top of their class. Izuku, himself, scored fourth, which wasn’t bad by anybody else’s standards, but he felt the fourth place garnered too much attention for his liking.

“Who else want to join our study session?” Yaoyorozu asked the class, “Some tutors would be pleasant company, too!”

She looked quite excited, most likely caused by whatever conversation she was having with Jirou. Her hands were clasped together, underneath her chin, and a hopeful smile tugged on her lips.

“Yes! I do,” Kaminari shot his hand into the air, “More people teaching me means I’ll have higher chances at understanding something!”

Others followed suit, eager to help each other out with their studies. Izuku has never seen anybody this enthusiastic to study – except for himself, possibly.

Among the commotion, Ashido turned to him, “Midori! You’re smart, come tutor us!” she grinned at him.

He laughed nervously, “Are you sure? I don’t think I would make a good teacher.”

Ashido pouted at him, catching onto the sleeve of his blazer and pulling him into the crowd of conversing people. Some looked over to see the commotion, curious. Uraraka, who heard Ashido, smiled.

“Yes! Deku,” she exclaimed, “You’re great at explaining strategy, and your theories are so thorough!”

Ojiro nodded, easily agreeing with the girl.

Yaoyorozu clapped her hands once, “The more, the merrier. There’s enough room for everyone.”

“If you’re sure, I’d be happy to come,” he smiled shyly at her.

A cheer erupted from the group, happy to have enlisted another tutor. Ashido and Kaminari were by far the loudest, but they usually were.

Izuku quietly shuffled away from the circle of friends, letting them do their own thing. The sheer size of it was overwhelming, but he was thankful to have been included in the first place. Distancing himself, he noticed Jirou had split off from Yaoyorozu’s side and was now speaking with Kouda.

He walked up to them, which has become a norm since he first approached the other boy. From what he could catch, Jirou was asking him to join them for the study session. Izuku felt glad that there would be some quieter people there, too.

He talked with them until everyone started heading off to lunch, where they sat down at their growing lunch table. It wasn’t just himself, Iida and Uraraka, any more. More and more people have started filling up the empty seats.

During the lunch hour, Ashido went around the tables filled with 1-A students to get their numbers for a group chat. She volunteered, apparently, to make one for the study group. Her excitement was obvious when the group chat was named Studying for Dummies.

That weekend, the group decided to have their first meet up, which was how Izuku found himself nearing a mansion. At least, the enormous house looked like a mansion to Izuku, who has lived in a rented apartment his whole life.

“This is your first time going to a friend’s house!” Yuki exclaimed animatedly.

Izuku pouted indignantly, “No need to sound so excited.”

She waved him off, “You’ve only ever been to Bakugou’s house, and you can’t exactly call him your friend.”

“Now you’re just attacking me.”

She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, “Whatever.”

With the gates to Yaoyorozu’s house in sight, Izuku could also see a few people already in front. The metal fence was tall, and intricately detailed. On the side, was a buzzer, there to let the inhabitants of the house know there are visitors outside.

Kaminari was first to spot him, waving him over, “Midori! Hello!”

Izuku greeted back with a smile. Uraraka, Ashido and Sero turned around from where they were gawking at the mansion, adding on their own greetings to the pile. They must have already buzzed in, because soon the gates opened, and there stood a butler.

A butler!

He welcomed them on behalf of the family, leading them inside. They walked through wide, well-decorated halls, until they reached a big auditorium. It had a long table with countless chairs, a fireplace and a chandelier.

At the table, in the corner closest to the doors, sat Yaoyorozu with Jirou. The two turned around and stood up from the chairs when the group entered. Yaoyorozu smiled warmly at them, as Jirou waved from beside her.

“Welcome!” Yaoyorozu said, “I’m happy you were all able to come. We are still waiting for some people, but would you like some tea while we wait?”

Ashido sauntered over to the girl, grinning and throwing her hands up high, “Tea from Yaomomo? How could I ever say no to that?”

Uraraka blanched, “How, how expensive is the tea?”

“Better not ask,” Sero whispered to her, just as astounded.

“I’d love some tea, thank you,” Izuku said politely.

“Hell yeah!” Kaminari exclaimed, throwing his bag onto the table.

He sat down in the chair next to Jirou, pulling her down onto her seat with him. As she looked at Kaminari, he sent her a knowing grin, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Jirou’s whole face flushed, hiding her face behind her bangs.

“I think I’ll go explore this place,” Yuki stated, also in awe of the house, “Studying is boring anyway.”

She quickly left. Instead of paying attention to where she walked, her gaze was instead roving from one place to another, taking in everything. Izuku was sure he could hear her mutter ‘fucking rich kids, god damn’, at some point.

Uraraka pulled at his arm, forcing him to follow her to the table. They sat down across from the others, with Uraraka in the corner seat. Sero and Ashido sat down on the row beside Izuku. Nobody had their study material out, yet.

“Man, this is such a nice place,” Sero complimented, “It would be a blast to study here all the time.”

“It’s so big, too. I bet the whole class could easily fit in here,” Ashido added.

“Could you imagine the whole class in one place without a teacher, though?” Jirou quipped.

“With the likes of Bakugou I don’t think anyone would learn anything,” Uraraka laughed, hand over her mouth.

“Isn’t he tutoring Kirishima, though?” Kaminari pointed out, tapping at his chin, “I’m curious how that is going.”

“Kacchan get’s very serious about his studies,” Izuku found himself saying, “He’s loud, but I don’t think he would let Kirishima go if he didn’t teach him something.”

Yaoyorozu looked at him, thoughtfully, “He did place third, in our class.”

“So you’re telling me Bakugou is a nerd?” Kaminari whistled, “Was he always? Or is that a UA development?”

Everyone then turned to Izuku, expecting an answer. His palms became clammy, but that has been a fairly frequent occurrence, recently. It felt weird to be speaking about Kacchan to people. At some point, he stopped mentioning him to even his mother.

His feelings on the boy have always been isolated to his mind. And, ass much as Yuki liked to comment on Kacchan’s behaviour, Izuku very rarely took the conversations further than that. Talking casually about Kacchan felt strangely personal, in fact.

“He’s always been at the top of our class. He was every teacher’s favourite,” he recalled.

“Every teacher’s favourite!?” Ashido shouted incredulously, “Are you sure?”

“Oh my,” Yaoyorozu said, “I definitely didn’t expect that.”

The reaction startled him. Kacchan was always favoured by adults. He had a boisterous attitude and a very powerful quirk. Most people would be introduced to him and praise him instantly. Izuku could always see the envy with which their classmates looked at Kacchan.

To Izuku, it was shocking when none of the teachers at UA acted the same. Of course, Kacchan was rude and, most of the time, disrespectful towards authority, but teachers always ignored that. He thought heroes would praise him just as much as those people who called his quirk heroic.

“You’re so right,” Sero said, all attention turning towards him, “Midoriya much more fits the ‘teacher’s favourite’ vibe.”

“I do?” he asked, voice rising an octave.

“Yeah! You’re so nice,” Uraraka smiled, “And you look like you always love studying.”

Jirou nodded in agreement, “Your English is so good. Your pronunciation is so much better than mine. You’re not fluent, are you?”

Izuku nodded timidly. He started fidgeting as he felt heat travelling up his cheeks.

“You’re fluent, too?” Kaminari asked, amazed, looking back and forth between Izuku and Jirou.

Uraraka laughed, joined by Sero as he said, “Dude, you speak English but can’t pass a single test?”

“Well,” he flustered, “It’s hard to read, alright! The words stop looking like words by the time I’m finished,” Kaminari whined.

“Kaminari, do you have dyslexia?” Uraraka asked with a tilt of her head.

“I, no? I have the same thing with maths.”

“Dyslexia and dyscalculia, then?” Jirou proposed.

“I don’t...” he tried to dispute, “I don’t know,” he hung his head low.

“You should probably tell Aizawa, man,” Sero said, just as their tea arrived.

As they sipped on their tea, their conversation strayed into small talk. How their day has been, what they had for breakfast. Izuku didn’t understand it, but everyone else seemed to enjoy commenting on others’ responses.

Not long later, Hagakure arrived, and soon after so did Kouda and Ojiro. With the full group present, the promised study efforts began. People flocked to the person who knew the most about the subject they were struggling with, swapping around every so often.

Izuku found the experience fun. He enjoyed seeing the understanding looks when he explained something they had a problem with. It felt nice to be the helpful one.

To the best of his abilities, he tried picking out the patterns within how each one of his friends struggled with different topics, in order to cater to their needs as best as he could. He’d like to think he succeeded, too, as Izuku got them to understand faster each and every time.

After two or so hours, they decided to take a break, although, Izuku didn’t feel like he needed one, the atmosphere was already so laid-back. Yaoyorozu brought in another round of tea for everyone, which she was thanked for thoroughly.

Ashido and Sero stretched out on the floor of the auditorium, Kaminari mock-threatened to step on them both. Hagakure and Uraraka were excitedly discussing something in the corner, animatedly gesturing all the while.

It all felt so normal.

Izuku ended up sitting near Kouda, because they were both going over maths together. Jirou sat in front of them, elbows on the table, hands in front of her. She smiled at them, and Izuku could spot a little mischief in it.

“Alright, I’m here to learn more JSL,” she said.

Izuku laughed, but nodded in agreement either way. They were supposed to be there to study, after all.

Kaminari walked up to them, “JSL? Is that what you’ve been doing at lunch?” he asked, intrigued.

They nodded, and Jirou looked at him with a smirk, “What, you wanna learn?”

Kaminari huffed, offended, “Hey, I might be an idiot, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn.”

The two kept teasing each other for another minute. They threw out meaningless insults and stuck their tongues out. Izuku saw Yaoyorozu approach from behind Jirou, an amused little smile on her face.

“I’ve been wanting to learn sign language for a while now,” she began, “I would love to pick up some things from you two, if you wouldn’t mind.”

In the end, it turned out that none of them got a break from studying, but nobody minded.

That weekend, the group decided to come together every Saturday at Yaoyorozu’s house to study. Izuku always looked forward to learning something new, but now he also looked forward to teaching.

He also kept meeting with Aizawa twice a week, which did turn out to be helpful for his quirk control. The more he practised, the less it hurt to activate One for All.

One week before the exams, Izuku headed into the classroom, where he met with Aizawa before their training, only to be met with Shinso standing beside their teacher. The boy looked to him, narrowing his eyes.

“What’s he doing here?” Shinso asked.

Izuku startled at the question. He wasn’t expecting a classmate, but he didn’t mind one of them joining in. Shinso, however, seemed to hold a strange vitriol towards Izuku, especially since their battle at the Sports Festival.

“You’re both here to train,” Aizawa simply explained.

“We’ll be training together?” Izuku inquired.

Aizawa pushed himself off the wall, leading their way out of the classroom, “You will be focusing on quirkless fighting, today. Since you both cannot always rely on your quirks, it would be beneficial to show you some fighting moves that do not require the use of them.”

He felt his stomach drop as soon as the word quirkless left the man’s mouth, despite it’s innocuous context.

“But, why together?” Shinso asked, following behind their teacher.

Aizawa looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “You need a sparring partner, no?”

Shinso scoffed, but didn’t comment further.

Silently, they made their way in the direction of Gym Gamma. Aizawa was at the front, his students trailing behind. Shinso still tried to walk faster that Izuku, though, with his arms crossed over his chest.

Yuki sped up, and began walking backwards in order to look Shinso face to face, “Man, he really doesn’t like you,” she said as she studied his face.

Izuku rolled his eyes at her. It did hurt, though, to know one of his classmates wasn’t that fond of him. He didn’t even know why Shinso disliked him, either. He couldn’t let himself dwell on that during training.

“Go stretch,” Aizawa said, sending them off to the corner of the gym.

Izuku was eager to get on with his training, so he was quick to do as told. Shinso walked, much slower, behind him, sighing in exhaustion. They began stretching, Izuku going through the routine with practice.

“Why are you training with Aizawa?” Shinso asked, tone sceptical.

“Um, you’ve seen me break my bones,” Izuku simply replied.

Shinso scoffed, “What, you were too proud as a child to control your quirk? Any quirk counsellor would jump at the opportunity to help you.”

“It’s not that simple, Shinso,” Izuku frowned at him, voice quiet.

“I don’t know, sounds pretty simple to me. A golden child like you would get served anything on a golden platter.”

Izuku’s brow furrowed. A strange assumption, one he didn’t realise was the cause for Shinso’s disdain. He had no idea how to explain to the boy that what he thought really wasn’t the case. But then, Shinso would likely dig deeper and deeper.

Yuki shook her head, “He really can’t let this go, can he?”

He could tell Yuki was building her own dislike towards Shinso. She had a short fuse when it came to rude remarks and assumptions, something which Izuku didn’t particularly like in her.

Before Shinso could say something else, Aizawa walked up to them, “Now that you’re finished, let’s go over the basics. Then, you’ll spar.”

Izuku was spared an awkward conversation by pure circumstance. Aizawa went over some rules, explaining safety and the right moves and techniques. It took twenty minutes to go through all of it. Eventually, they were led to a bunch of mats on the floor, which was meant to serve as their ring.

Their first spar was clunky and slow. Both of them were unused to fighting hand to hand. Izuku tried to use his analysis of similar hero fights to help him. Which, seemed to work, as he soon got the upper hand.

“Alright, what?” Shinso asked, from his position on the floor, “Didn’t you say you never did this, before?”

“Not without my quirk, no.”

Keeping wary eye contact with Izuku, he got up and dusted himself off. Grumbling something under his breath, he got ready for another match. Aizawa didn’t comment on the remark Shinso made.

They sparred for another half an hour, and Izuku could tell they were both starting to get used to the back and forth. It wasn’t that difficult, once Izuku noticed the patterns within Shinso’s fighting. Predicting his next move was getting easier and easier.

“Weren’t we supposed to be on the same level?” Shinso snapped when he lost once again.

“Have you had combat training before UA, Midoriya?” Aizawa asked, having been silent until then.

Izuku shook his head, feeling very self-conscious.

“You’re moving in a way that we haven’t taught you, yet,” Aizawa explained.

“I’ve been watching hero fights my whole life,” he admitted, embarrassed, “Maybe I subconsciously picked something up.”

Aizawa let himself look impressed, for a split second, “You’ve learned purely from observation? While you still need a lot of practice, your movements are quite fluid.”

Thankfully, for Izuku, they moved onto more sparring after that, so he didn’t have to embarrass himself any longer. Although, he did enjoy the praise from his teacher, albeit unexpected.

Aizawa started coaching them through their sets, improving their confidence and efficiency. Shinso started winning more and more, as the help levelled out the field a little. Izuku was still winning most of their spars, however, which did boost his ego.

His sparring partner was getting more and more frustrated with the ratio, though. Izuku could see how he gritted his teeth, and sneered from time to time. Whether it was at Izuku or himself was still unclear.

“Why are you so strong? Are you using your quirk?” Shinso taunted angrily.

“What? No!” he defended.

He noticed his mistake as his muscles began slacking, loosing their grip on Shinso. His mind went blank, before swarming with whispers. It was just like at the Sports Festival, but less desperate. He was snapped back into awareness before the past users got the idea to intervene, again.

“What was that about quirks?” Aizawa asked, teasing lilt to his tone.

Izuku shook himself out, trying to discretely wave off Yuki as she approached, worry on her face. He remembered how scared the ghosts were of what might happen if he fell under Brainwash, again.

“Sorry, that was an accident,” Shinso apologised, voice guarded, refusing to look at Izuku.

“It’s alright,” he smiled at the other, “No harm done.”

Shinso glanced at him, dubiously, “You sure?”

Izuku nodded, “Yeah, of course! You know, after the Sports Festival I kinda wanted to ask if you were willing to brainwash me again. I’m curious about the effects it has on the person, and how exactly it works.”

The other looked at him, bewilderment as clear as day on his face. Even Aizawa looked mildly surprised.

“You want me to brainwash you? Willingly?”

“Unless you’re scared you’ll hurt me, but I haven’t seen you do that to anybody, yet,” he added.

Shinso stared at him, wide eyed, for another moment or two, “You...well...sure, sure, why not, I guess.”

Izuku grinned. Maybe there was a way to become friends with Shinso, after all. If he truly hated Izuku, he would have refused the offer outright. But he didn’t, which gave him a chance, and that was all the promise he needed.

Sparring resumed, though they all knew they could only push their stamina so far. Both Izuku and Shinso were getting increasingly more exhausted and bruised. However, right as Izuku was about to win their last spar, Shirakumo flew in with a shout.

“Wooo, I’m not too late!” reverberated through the empty gym.

Startled, Izuku’s muscles ceased, eyes flying open wide, as he lost his footing. A groan was punched out of him as his back hit the ground, Shinso sprawling on top of him. It knocked the air out of him, Shinso looking no better.

Aizawa walked closer, assessing their predicament, “Anybody injured?”

“All good,” Shinso said, breathless.

“Yes, me too. I’m sorry,” Izuku ground out.

Shinso moved quick as he untangled himself from the mess the two have become on the floor. Izuku was slower to get up, but he also didn’t have another body to cushion his fall. It took all of his will power not to glare at Shirakumo.

“What happened?” Shinso asked, eyes suspicious.

Izuku laughed nervously, “Sorry, um, I got distracted...”

Besides them, Aizawa hummed, then announced, “We’ll end this here. Let’s call that a tie.”

Despite both still being clearly sceptical, Izuku couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped his lips. A close call. He had to remind himself that they couldn’t possibly guess he saw a ghost without prior knowledge.

Neither asked for further explanation, but Izuku could feel eyes on his back as he stretched with Shinso. Without a doubt, he was bound to feel the ache of his muscles the next day. The tension that strung his muscles together preventing him from stretching properly.

“Idiot,” Yuki spat, hitting Shirakumo over the head.

“Ow! Okay, I get it! I’m sorry.”

Izuku smiled lightly at the yells. He knew Shirakumo was playing up his pain, but the display made him feel slightly better.

Shirakumo sighed, looking around, “I’m late anyway, aren’t I?”

Chapter Text

Dry, calloused fingers twisted themselves around Izuku’s throat. Four fingers, a lifted pinky. A threat, a promise, a warning. Mercy. Heavy and all too stifling, the elbow at his back pushed him forward, forcing a slouch from Izuku.

Their mall trip hasn’t yet reached thirty minutes, not a single item bought. He was left alone in the crowd; a sea of strangers, both living and dead alike. An ocean hiding the person who was seconds away from disintegrating his throat.

An air of smugness permeated through Izuku’s membrane of fear. Shigaraki was smirking. A grin that crinkled the flaky skin around his eyes. His stance was unguarded, lazy. Back slouched, free hand held in a hoodie pocket.

Blue, weed-like hair hid underneath a hood, but a couple strands made their escape into the light. Nothing about him was recognisable, it was a sloppy but perfect disguise. Nobody looked over, not a single person had any reason to.

Izuku was led, with slow, deliberate movements, over to a bench. They sat down awkwardly, Shigaraki needing to contort to keep his palm against Izuku’s nape, but his constant smile never gave away to embarrassment.

It was frustrating. Shigaraki was showing none of the childish confidence he had at the USJ. Instead, it was cold assurance. He knew he had the upper hand. He knew he would win if Izuku began to struggle.

It was frustrating. Izuku thought the mall would be a fun trip with friends. Ashido had even promised they would look for the hair care products they have been talking about for weeks. Not even the overwhelming crowds dampened his enthusiasm.

“So, tell me, hero,” Shigaraki’s voice scratched, “What is it about Stain that people like so much.”

Izuku kept silent. He feared his own voice. Was he even expected to answer?

“What do they see in him? Why aren’t they focusing on me?”

Shigaraki snapped his head towards Izuku, forcing their eyes to meet. He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching. A blunt nail scraped against the skin of his throat, and it took Izuku all his will not to flinch.

Izuku took a breath in, “They prefer his ideals,” he whispered.

“Ideals?” Shigaraki said, breaking eye contact to look into the distance in thought.

“You hate All Might, he doesn’t,” he got out shakily.

“Yes,” Shigaraki narrowed his eyes, “So why don’t they look at me?”

He cast a glance into the crowd. Their lives depended on him satisfying Shigaraki’s curiosity, he realised. He had to answer, deliberately and carefully.

“You...you destroy. Mindlessly. You want to kill the people’s hero. But,” he breathed in deep, “Stain kills with a purpose. He sees All Might as the perfect hero, he kills those who aren’t.”

Shigaraki released a raspy hum, “Are you one of them, then? Do you agree with Stain, because you love All Might oh so much?”

“I know,” Izuku began, “I know that society is corrupt. I know...I also want it to change, and, and it’s true that my ideals lay closer to Stain’s but,” he paused, hesitating, “I don’t think all of them should die.”

“Ah, but do you think some of them should die?” Shigaraki chuckled lowly, “Careful, or you’ll start sympathising with a villain.”

Izuku kept quiet.

Amusement laced with anger, “All those NPCs like him, because what? He caters to them? Because he likes All Might?”

Shigaraki dug his fingers into his throat, “Are they not scared of destruction?

“Are they not scared of what threatens their symbol?” he continued.

Izuku’s throat began closing up. Blunt nails now felt sharp.

“All my Nomus were not scary enough for them?” Shigaraki spiralled, almost hysterical.

A wheeze ripped itself out of Izuku’s mouth. A choked noise broke in half, unable to finish with the lack of air. Izuku’s fingers flew over to his throat, beginning a valiant effort to pry foreign ones away. A sickening image of sludge forced itself into Izuku’s head.

“They’ll look at me,” Shigaraki gritted out, “They’ll look at me once I kill All Might. Yes, once I kill All Might, everybody will be talking about me. They’ll be too scared to leave their houses, only capable of watching the news as All Might’s worthless life ends.”

Izuku keened and whined, body flailing with desperation. His nails scratched into his own skin, but Shigaraki’s fingers stuck to him like glue. It burned, but he was drowning. Stars swam in his vision, a pressure began filling his head, and it all felt too familiar.

“Deku...?”

A soft, hesitant voice. Shaky and laced with fear.

The hand loosened, and air finally flowed into his lungs. The stifling warmth of a body left his side, and Izuku’s wide eyes snapped over to where Shigaraki was walking away. He was hyperventilating, palms against his throat, a shield. But he couldn’t look away, not until Shigaraki became a distant speck.

Uraraka launched forward, brows knit tightly together. Her right hand was digging in her pocket for a phone. She paused just before reaching him. She held her left hand out, but decided to retract it soon after.

She called the police, frantic. Izuku sat there, slumped in on himself, eyes trained on the tiles below his feet. His arms never left their defensive position, only loosening once the officers arrived.

Shigaraki was long gone, but the mall was emptied out, anyway. The security cameras were checked, but they couldn’t track him further than a nearby alley. Izuku listened to them discuss as his throat was checked for damage. Some bruising and a few surface level scratches. Nothing that couldn’t heal in a few days.

Izuku spent the entire drive to the police station in a daze. His eyes glossed over the passing cars. Everything around him felt distant. The people walking outside weren’t real. The buildings were just shapes. His thoughts were mush.

Inside, the station was calm, quiet. People in uniform walked around, one or two in a hurry somewhere, but some were laughing amongst each other, or conversing animatedly. A couple civilians sat around in the waiting area, looking more bored than concerned.

He was led to a room. On the door was a plaque, it read Tsukauchi. Izuku sighed, familiar with the name. His guide left once Izuku was let into the office, without a word. The room held the rich aroma of coffee, and the lighting was much warmer compared to the halls.

Tsukauchi greeted him with a smile, professional but polite. Understanding eyes met his, and a hand guided his gaze over to the armchair across the detective’s desk. Izuku sat down, back straight but eyes hooded.

The questioning did not take long. Izuku didn’t have much to relay. Tsukauchi would wait patiently whenever he struggled to speak, and kindly prompted him whenever he got stuck in his head. Experience with traumatised witnesses made Tsukauchi empathetic. A rarity.

“And that’s everything,” Tsukauchi said, “Thank you for your time.”

Izuku nodded.

“We already called your mother, and sent an officer to pick her up, she should be here shortly.”

Izuku nodded.

“Now, I’m afraid I have business to attend to,” Tsukauchi furrowed his brow, “But Eraserhead is here to keep you company. We can’t leave you alone, at the moment, I hope you understand.”

Izuku nodded.

Tsukauchi smiled, apologetic. He took a few moments to gather some documents, and picked up his empty mug, before leaving. A few quiet words were exchanged, followed by Aizawa entering the room. He closed it gently.

“How are you, Midoriya?” he asked as he sat down on the armchair beside Izuku’s.

Izuku searched for an answer, but none came. He felt like shit. He felt tired. He felt numb. He wanted to cry. But no words surfaced.

“I’m okay,” he forced out, after a few, too long, moments of silence.

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed minutely, “Your classmates have asked about you. They said you didn’t answer their texts, but I can tell them to back off, for a few days.”

Asking about him? About Izuku? About his wellbeing? He wasn’t sure. His lagging brain had trouble processing that information. Nor did he understand Aizawa’s proposal. He didn’t want to talk to them, truthfully, but why did Aizawa assume so?

“I’ll be taking the silence as a yes, kid,” he sighed, “Unless, you’re about to tell me otherwise.”

Izuku shook his head. He was afraid of seeming rude, but Aizawa was the one to offer.

“You’re allowed to ask for space, Midoriya,” Aizawa continued, looking at him calculatingly.

Unsettling. This was unsettling. Izuku hasn’t spoken a word, but Aizawa talked as if he was carrying out a full conversation with him. He talked like he knew precisely what to say, and how to say it.

Silence fell over the room. Izuku looked down at his lap, at his fingers as they fidgeted. He brought his left hand closer to himself, examining his nails. There was a speck of blood underneath the nail of his ring finger. He quickly got rid of it.

Aizawa looked out of the window, arms crossed over each other, in front of his chest. His face, all the way up to his nose, was buried in his scarf. Intermittently, his eyes would move back to Izuku, although they never found anything new.

Minutes passed in the calm. Only the ticking of the clock and the muted hum of outside life as background noise. Izuku heard shuffling by the door, thus turning around to see if anybody came in. The door never opened, but a head poked in.

Yuki looked around, her hair swishing side to side, before landing on Izuku. She smiled, concern marring the edges, and stepped fully into the office. Izuku’s eyes tracked her movements. Aizawa’s soon following, with a frown on his face and a furrow to his brow.

“There you are,” Yuki said softly, “Inko got a call, so I went ahead to check on you. Now look away, your teacher is getting suspicious.”

Izuku followed her instructions, and went back to looking at his cuticles. Aizawa’s eyes were still on him. Yuki walked up, leisurely sitting down on the floor beside his armchair. She leaned an elbow on the armrest, and laid her hand on top of Izuku’s.

“Does this happen often?” Aizawa broke the silence, “You dissociating, like this?”

“No,” Izuku frowned, “Sometimes.”

Aizawa hummed, not giving a single thought away, “That’s understandable. Would you like for me to make your mother aware of this?”

“No,” Izuku shook his head.

“That’s fine, kid. I suggest you talk with Hound Dog about it, or somebody else you prefer.”

Izuku nodded, but Aizawa could likely tell it was a lie. His last meeting with the counsellor wasn’t pleasant, he felt no need to repeat it. Not when he has worked for years to hide this from everybody. Aizawa knowing was enough.

The rest of his stay at the police station passed without words. Eventually, an officer knocked on the door, announcing that his mother came to pick him up. Yuki grabbed his by the wrist – a grounding touch – and together they walked out of the station.

His mother worried over him the whole ride, sniffling and asking about his wellbeing. Many hugs were exchanged, although his mother’s arms kept coming all too close to his neck. Once at home, Izuku felt like he could finally breathe.

She prepared a quick meal for them both, one that Izuku gave his best try to keep down. Each swallow was painful, each pang reminding him of fingers. He felt sick, but he refused to make his mother worry even more. The medics said he would be fine, so he would be.

Luckily, she didn’t keep him long, letting him hide away in his room as soon as he ate. With a kiss on his cheek, he was sent away. For the first time, Izuku felt himself cracking a genuine smile, albeit small and shaky.

He set his phone, face down, on his desk. There was no point in charging it. A hand ran through his hair. Izuku let it pull through knots, as painful as they were. Sighing, he let his eyes fill up with tears, unable to stop the onslaught of emotions, now that he was all alone.

Almost catatonically, he took his clothes off, pulling on the pyjamas he left on the floor that morning. He kicked his previous clothes in the corner, lacking the energy to pick them up. Closing his eyes, breathing in deeply for a few seconds, he steeled himself to walk over to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

His reflection in the mirror was blurry, swimming in the sheen of tears that formed. A ball of phlegm accumulated in his throat, unpleasant and annoying, but he couldn’t break down with a toothbrush in his mouth.

Izuku sat on his bed, rocking back and forth for a minute. As the tears began falling, lips warbling, Izuku fell backward onto his bed. Curling into a foetal position, he hugged his hands to his chest, and sobbed himself silently to sleep.

“Everyone, line up!” Iida yelled, gesturing choppily at the coach.

As he did with their ride to the USJ, Iida was adamant about boarding the coach in an orderly manner, despite knowing their classmates, most likely, wouldn’t care. Izuku admired the effort, though. For most of their friends, the summer camp was still more of a holiday than training.

“I’ve never been to a summer camp,” Todoroki confessed, voice failing to indicate whether he was disappointed by that fact or not.

Izuku turned to face him, “I’ve never been to one, either,” he smiled.

“Did you ever go camping, though?” Uraraka asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

Both of them shook their heads. Izuku and his mother have always been homebodies, preferring to spend holidays at home with each other. It never occurred to them to go camping. As for Todoroki, Izuku assumed Endeavour would not allow his children to have fun.

“You’ve never been camping?” Uraraka’s jaw dropped in shock, “I’ll have to teach you everything, then!”

Izuku smiled at her, appreciatively, “I’ll be looking forward to it!”

Todoroki nodded, “Me too.”

While they talked, Iida managed to wrangle everyone into a line. One by one, everyone found their seats. Izuku was the lucky one to sit next to Iida, who was constantly getting up to shout at everyone else to behave. He let himself relish in the chaos while it was still entertaining.

Once they were on the road, the atmosphere calmed down a little, diminishing down to quiet conversations. From time to time, Kaminari would shout something at Mina in the back, or yell out a meme reference to see if anybody got it.

About an hour in, Kacchan got into a heated argument with Jirou about a rock band they both listened to. Izuku couldn’t understand what they were talking about even if he tried, music wasn’t something he knew a lot about. Yuki remarked that she wanted to listen to the band, though, meaning he would, inadvertently, do so, too.

They got off the coach at a pit-stop. A lone building stood, nothing but sand and trees all around. The road fell off into a cliff, with a fence to warn people of the long way down.

Everyone excitedly got off the coach, overjoyed at the opportunity to stretch their legs. Pleased sighs and cheers rung out through the crowd. Their sister class was absent, but a lone car stood nearby. It was hard to tell if somebody sat inside.

Shirakumo flew up to him, a shit-eating grin on his face. He gave a small, mischievous laugh when he approached. Yuki looked at him with a raised eyebrow – Izuku wanted to follow her lead, suspicious of the other ghost.

“I have some insider knowledge,” he said, tapping his nose conspiratorially.

Izuku cocked his head towards Shirakumo, curious. He could tell there was something more about this pit-stop – the lone car said enough. Similarly curious, Yuki hummed, showing her growing interest.

“I knew you’d wanna know,” Shirakumo’s grin widened, “I heard the teachers talking about making you do additional training by having you run through that forest below, all the way to the camp.”

Yuki barked out a laugh, “You’re kidding?”

“Not at all. They have a person who can throw you off of that cliff. Same person can also make mud monsters, which are meant to attack you.”

Shocked, Izuku turned away from his class, and approached the fence silently. The drop didn’t look dangerous, besides, he doubted the heroes didn’t have precautions. It didn’t look comfortable, however.

He cast his gave over the forest line, spotting not a single enemy. Either hidden or not formed yet. Izuku attempted to think of a hero who could manipulate the earth in that manner. Such quirks weren’t rare, but they differed on a personal basis.

Once everyone got their fill of freedom, Aizawa called everyone towards him. He stood by the car, whose doors opened, revealing four heroes. With a shit-eating grin rivalling Shirakumo’s, Aizawa introduced them to the Wild Wild Pussycats.

A wave of understanding instantly hit Izuku. Pixie-Bob, a member of the hero team, had a quirk that let her manipulate earth in such intricate ways. He remembered reading about her, and how she uses her quirk in rescue situations.

The Wild Wild Pussycats posed and danced as they introduced themselves, and Izuku couldn’t help but look at them with stars in his eyes. He has looked up to them as rescue heroes for years, despite there not being many videos of them working.

In his amazement, he was slow to notice the kid standing behind Mandalay. He had a scowl on, and furrowed eyebrows. His little hands were crossed over his chest in displeasure. Beside him stood two heroes – Izuku recognised them as the late hero duo Water Hose.

With how protectively they stood around the kid, Izuku assumed they were his parents. He has seen many ghosts looking over their children, yet the sight was never any less painful. Each of them held a silent pain in their eyes, and a pride when looking at their still-living child.

A shake in the earth took Izuku out of his head, sudden and violent. Shocked screams and indignant yells joined the cacophony of earth being torn apart and debris falling. Izuku readied himself for the drop, but was inevitably unprepared for the harsh impact with the ground.

Everyone groaned in pain, and carefully got up onto their feet. The heroes above were laughing – they explained the task they have prepared for the students. Pixie-Bob had a mischievous, self-satisfactory grin on.

“Hey! Midoriya!” he heard from above.

Craning his head up, Izuku spotted Shirakumo floating above the tree line, waving down at him with a smile. Yuki then approached him down on the ground, a similarly cunning smile splitting her own face.

“We’ll help guide the way, you just focus on herding everyone with you,” she said.

Izuku huffed in amusement, but let them help. The class soon found themselves running, weaving between trees and dodging Pixie-Bob’s monsters. The earth giants took most of them to defeat.

They were powerful and huge, and very quickly required everyone’s full concentration. At the back of his mind, Izuku took note to ask Pixie-Bob about these monsters – how she made them, how much control she had over them, how close she needed to be.

Haggard and exhausted, the class trudged through the last stretch of forest and into the clearing. The sun was already setting in the distance. Once again, they were met with Aizawa and the Wild Wild Pussycats. The kid and his ghosts right beside them.

“That took much longer than three hours,” Sato complained, hanging his arms low.

“You guys did great,” Mandalay praised, “We actually expected you to take much longer that what you managed.”

Pixie-Bob clapped her hands, “You took down my monsters so fast! I’m impressed,” she said, before narrowing down her praise to just Todoroki, Iida, Kacchan and Izuku.

As thankful for the kind words as he was, Izuku was beginning to feel uncomfortable with all the attention he was being presented with. Trying to find a way to distract the hero, he awkwardly pointed behind her, at the kid that had yet to be introduced.

“That’s Kouta, my nephew,” Mandalay explained.

Kouta crossed his arms and turned away with a scoff as everyone looked at him. Izuku slowly shuffled away from where he was sandwiched between Pixie-Bob and his friends, and approached Kouta, holding out a hand.

“Hi, I’m Midoriya Izuku, nice to meet you,” he introduced himself with an awkward smile.

Kouta punched him and promptly walked away. Mandalay frowned, scolding him as he retreated into the building. One of the ghosts, now definitely confirmed as Kouta’s mother, started apologising profusely.

“Honey, he can’t hear you,” the man said, although guilt was also present on his face.

The woman looked at him, a deep frown on her face, “I know, but I feel bad.”

As Iida began fretting over Izuku who was attempting not to cry, Yuki faced the ghosts, “Well, actually, he can hear you, he just can’t respond,” she laughed, to lighten to mood, if nothing else, “But it’s okay, you don’t have to apologise.”

Izuku would like to disagree, it wasn’t okay, because it hurt like hell. Despite that, Izuku was able to acknowledge that it wasn’t the woman’s fault.

He wasn’t blaming Kouta, either, however. He was worried, in fact. It has been a few years since Water Hose died on the field, but such wounds feel the freshest when you’re a child. Kouta was a child lashing out.

The food the heroes prepared for them was delicious, if only because they were all starving from their training. Izuku tried eating slower, but even he couldn’t deny the calls of hunger he was receiving from his body.

Everybody else wasn’t faring much better, either. He spotted Sero and Kirishima scarfing down their food. There was hardly any conversation, everyone was occupied with their plates.

“Yaomomo,” Ashido inquired, looking to the girl who was seated to her right, “Would you like the rest of my rice? I think I plated myself too much.”

Ashido sent Yaoyorozu her best attempt at a sheepish smile, trying to look embarrassed. She did, in fact, get too much rice, but entirely on purpose. Izuku saw her grin as she did so.

“Oh,” Yaoyorozu flushed, hand flying up to try to cover her blush, “Thank you, that’s so nice of you.”

“Awe, I wanted some of that rice,” Kaminari whined to Ashido’s left.

Ashido whacked him on the shoulder, “I already gave it to Yaomomo, get some yourself.”

Kaminari snickered, but ducked out of the seat to do just as Ashido suggested. The girl shook her head, but her lips turned into a smirk, revealing her true amusement at the situation. Yaoyorozu giggled beside her.

“If I eat any more, I think I’ll fall into a food coma,” Uraraka said, stretching her arms above her head, yawning.

“It would do you good. We’re starting early, tomorrow,” Aizawa replied, startling some people who didn’t know their teacher was listening.

Sero groaned, slumping into his seat, “How early are we talking?”

Aizawa raised his eyebrow, “Early,” more groans and whines followed, “Those of you who failed the exams should count yourselves lucky to be able to sleep tonight. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be taking remedial classes at night, before sleep.”

“That’s not fair!” Ashido cried out.

“I think it’s plenty fair,” Aizawa said, one of his sadistic grins becoming visible over his scarf, “I recommend you all go to bed, soon.”

Kaminari looked down at his fresh bowl of rice as if it personally offended him, “That’s so not cool.”

“If only you studied,” Jirou taunted, snickering into her fist.

“Hey!” Kaminari straightened, “You were the one to say I have dyslexia, why are you blaming me?”

“Alright, alright, sorry, that’s my bad,” Jirou apologised, her smirk unwavering, “You still lost against the principal.”

Ashido leaned backward to look at her, “I take offence to that. I was also there,” she said, pouting.

“We’re in this together, Mina,” Kaminari laid his hand on her shoulder, like comrades before battle.

“Don’t lump me in with you,” she pulled his hand away with mock disgust, “I’m way better than you.”

“You’re both fuckin’ idiots!” Kacchan barked from across the room.

After a second of shock, a ruckus of friendly laughter rang out. Kacchan growled in annoyance, as he stacked his plates, ready to be washed.

The atmosphere was light, carefree. Almost the whole room was listening to their classmates arguing, no real heat behind their words. It was teasing and taunting that they all grew used to. None of them took any offence to Kacchan’s frequently harsh words, any more.

Following Kacchan’s lead, the rest of the plates were tidied up, so that the heroes could clean them, later. Carrying much quieter conversations, the pack of students made their way to their assigned sleeping accommodations.

The boys’ room was quite big, with a bunch of futons folded up around the room, ready to be set up. As much as Izuku didn’t mind sleeping on a futon, he has never slept in the same room as thirteen other people.

It was difficult to sleep somewhere that wasn’t his own bed. On infrequent occasions, he would doze on the couch in front of the TV, but he has never slept outside of his house. Despite that, he was tired, and he needed to sleep.

He had a whole training camp waiting for him.

Chapter Text

Yawns arose from 1-A as they stood in front of their teacher. Aizawa was not kidding when he said they would be starting early – the sun was still rising on the horizon. Izuku couldn’t hold back a yawn of his own.

The night wasn’t pleasant, nor was the morning. The lack of routine Izuku has held onto for years was disrupted, throwing him off and making his sleep barely useful. When he awoke, he was greeted once again by the unfamiliar surroundings, making him restless.

Looking around, he wondered if anybody else had a similar experience, but the effort was futile. Such things weren’t easily found by looking at a person’s body language, Izuku mused.

Without much preamble, Aizawa and the Wild Wild Pussycats threw them into training. As opposed to the basic training of their typical classes – which were focused mainly on combat – at the camp they were to improve the strength of their quirk.

Izuku, so far only being able to use five percent of One for All safely, was curious how far he could push himself. How much more would he improve, by the end of it all. He hoped for something big, but even one percent more would make him happy.

The hero to help him through his training was Tiger. He was strong, that much was obvious by a simple glance at the man’s muscles. He was also very unrelenting.

Izuku was doing exactly what he did for those ten months with All Might, except...more. Building muscle, making sure they were ready for the incredible strain that One for All put them under. Lunges, planks – his other classmates were actually using their quirks.

After a while, 1-B joined them. Izuku felt slightly jealous that the other class got to sleep in more, yet he was glad for having the opportunity to train more. Some of them stared wide-eyed at the training his class was already doing, likely not having expected for the training to be so...rigorous.

Lunch came and went, then they kept going into the afternoon. By dinner, their training for the day was finished, the only thing remaining was to get their meal ready. There were tables and grills, big cooking pots and crates of food.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love cooking, but I’m so tired,” Uraraka bemoaned.

Izuku looked over to her, she was chopping some carrots across from him. He was currently peeling some potatoes. To Uraraka’s right was Tsu, who raised her head at the other.

“Do you cook often, Ochaco?”

“All the time!” Uraraka brightened up, “Sometimes my parents would make extra and send me home with the left-overs, though.”

Tsu looked back at her own carrots, “I couldn’t imagine living on own. Whenever I cook, it’s with my siblings, or my mother.”

“Me too. I love cooking with my mom. I can only cook because of her,” Izuku laughed sheepishly.

Those moments have become less and less common over the years, around the time Izuku started junior high. His mother began taking longer shifts at the hospital, and Izuku started isolating himself more, not wanting his mother to see his bruises and cuts.

Uraraka cooed, “That’s cute! Like a family tradition!”

“How did you learn, Uraraka?” he asked after a moment.

“My dad taught me. But we don’t cook together, we’re both pretty particular in the kitchen,” she laughed, recalling a memory, “But we all make sure to eat together as much as we can!”

“Kero, it’s hard to wrangle all my sibling to eat together. They all like to do something while they eat.”

“It’s like trying to herd stubborn sheep,” Sero butted in with an understanding nod.

In his arms was a pot full of already chopped vegetables, which he must have been carrying off to be cooked. The two girls and Izuku looked to him, and Sero smiled, a tired edge to it.

“I’ve got a bunch of younger siblings,” he said, groaning, “And they all like to make themselves busy just as the food is ready.”

“I guess comparing it to herding sheep is accurate,” Tsu nodded.

“Tell me about it!” Sero called out as he continued on his trek across the clearing.

Uraraka giggled, “Siblings sound like fun. I think I’m lucky to be an only child, though.”

Izuku nodded, chuckling along with her.

Tsu told them stories of her family, as they focused on chopping the rest of the vegetables. The closest Izuku had to a sibling was Yuki, so he was interested in hearing about the other’s experience with younger ones.

Not long before the food was done, from the corner of his eye, Izuku spotted Kouta walking off into the forest. Mandalay looked after him with a frown, and his parents followed right behind him. Izuku furrowed his brow, feeling worry crawling up his spine.

After he ate his portion, Izuku filled up another bowl and made to shadow Kouta’s steps. It wasn’t difficult to find the small footprints on the dirt path. They led to an incline up a cliff, atop which Kouta sat, kicking his feet.

Izuku approached the boy slowly, keeping his body language as open as he could. Making his presence known, he watched as Kouta turned around to look at him with his face scrunched up in anger, but not making a move to stand up or walk away.

“I saw you haven’t eaten anything, so I brought you a bowl,” he started.

Kouta scoffed, looking back over the forest, “You can take it back.”

His parents, who were down on the ground beside their son, cast worried gazes toward Kouta. His mother reached out to him, before taking her hand back, frown growing. She then looked up to lock eyes with Izuku.

“He’s been like this for a while. It always gets worse when strangers are around,” she sighed, and Izuku could hear her pain, “Could you try to get him to eat? Please?”

Kouta’s father also looked to Izuku, his expression just as concerned for his son as his wife’s was. Both their eyes held so many emotions. Izuku remembered seeing something similar in his mother’s eyes when she talked about the pills.

Against his better judgement, Izuku sat down beside Kouta, legs dangling over the cliff-side. Kouta looked at him again, that same anger from before but refusing to comment on the action, likely thinking it futile.

“Why are you actually here?” Kouta spat.

“Well, I do want you to eat, I know it’s not fun going to sleep hungry.”

Kouta scoffed, “And will you leave if I eat this?”

“Maybe,” Izuku offered.

With another scoff, Kouta forcefully took the bowl out of Izuku’s hands. He didn’t start eating it right away, just looking down at it, brows drawn together. One hand picked up the spoon, slowly swirling the vegetables around.

“It’s stupid. You all try so hard just to show off your stupid quirks.”

Izuku hummed, waiting for the boy to continue.

“What’s so special about them? All they do is make people kill each other. It’s stupid.”

Kouta stabbed his spoon into the curry, a thunk resounding as it hit the wooden bowl. Some of the curry splattered out, but neither of them paid it any mind.

After a moment of silence, Izuku risked asking, “Your parents are Water Hose, right?”

Kouta looked up at him, shocked but still angry, “How did you know?”

“I overheard,” Izuku lied, smiling nervously.

He hesitated, “I remember hearing about their deaths. That must’ve been hard for you.”

“And what would you know?” Kouta snapped.

“I don’t. But I could imagine.”

Kouta huffed, continuing to play with his food. He bowed his head further down, fully hiding his expression from Izuku with his cap.

“Are you gonna tell me how heroic their sacrifice was? Just like everyone else does?” his voice was thick with emotion.

“No, not really,” Izuku shifted, “I understand why they did it, I do. But, I doubt dying was what they wanted to happen that day.”

He looked at the two ghosts again. There was deep sorrow on both of their faces, likely there since they died. Grief was one of the most prevalent emotion in their eyes, as well as regret. Izuku was well acquainted with seeing that in his own mother’s eyes.

“But it doesn’t even matter!” Kouta shouted, “They’re not here! They left! And you’re no better than them!”

Izuku didn’t try to rebuke the claim, it would be hypocritical of him. He knew, that if it came down to it, he would lay his life down for somebody else’s. In that regard, he wasn’t much different to Kouta’s parents.

“You’re all stupid. Calling yourselves heroes or villains, then fighting with each other just because you have these flashy powers.”

Silence followed the statement. With furrowed brows, Izuku looked out over the forest. Quirks were clearly a point of contention for the boy, seeing them as nothing but a weapon of destruction.

“I...have a friend,” Izuku swallowed down his nerves, “He wanted to be a hero since he was a child. He wanted to save everyone, like All Might does. So, he waited for his quirk to come in, something powerful that could stop any villain so that no innocent person would ever be harmed.

“But then he turned four, and then five, and no quirk came in. He wanted to save everyone so badly, he would spend hours trying to make things levitate, just like his mothers quirk did. I know that he would do anything just to be a hero.”

Kouta looked at him, confused, “So?”

“I don’t know,” Izuku shook his head, “Just...not everyone’s in it to show off, I guess.”

When no reply came, Izuku chanced a glance down at Kouta. His head was bowed low again, but he used the spoon to gently scoop the curry up to his mouth. Izuku sat with him as he ate, looking back over the horizon.

Before Izuku left, he heard a tearful, “Thank you.”

Joining back with the others, Izuku couldn’t quite silence his thoughts. Kouta had difficulty accepting their powered society. He himself has, on more than one occasion, wondered what life would be like if everyone was as quirkless as he.

Those were pointless thoughts, however, since changing society was nigh impossible, if not incredibly cruel. It would have changed little for Kouta, anyway. Death was inevitable for everyone, and his parents were already ghosts.

Once Izuku came back, it wasn’t long before everyone began heading inside for the night. And as they did, he racked his brain for some way to help Kouta, in the limited time he had at the summer camp. While he did so, he got ready for bed.

Shoji and Aoyama had set up a game of cards in the middle of their shared room, but Izuku decided to sit out and watch. The sounds of laughter and competition soothed him, slightly. At least they made him feel lighter, as he relished in the atmosphere.

He looked around the room, at the others who weren’t playing. Kacchan sat on his futon, reading a book, calm unlike how he acted the other hours of the day. Shinso was quietly conversing with Tokoyami in the corner. Ojiro laid face-down on his pillow, the only sign of his being awake being how he sometimes turned his head to look at the card game.

Then, from the wall nearest to Ojiro, came in Kouta’s dad. Izuku eyes widened, and his head turned fully to face him, though he quickly tried to school his features. The man’s eyes roved over the room, before they came upon him.

He approached, looking apologetic but determined as he spoke, “There is a small clearing not far from this building, if you keep heading left of here. I know we’re asking a lot from you, but we would be grateful if you came tonight.”

The man spoke kindly, with a softness that Izuku figured a father would have. He bowed his head, before leaving from where he entered. Izuku simply looked after him.

This wasn’t the first time a ghost has come to him with such a request. Although, it was usually in a situation where he didn’t have to sneak out past curfew. Whatever the two ghosts wanted, however, it had to be about Kouta.

Thus, when the lights in the room dimmed, and he was sure everyone was asleep, Izuku silently got up. Walking through the halls undetected wasn’t difficult, although right before he went for the door he remembered Mandalay’s quirk.

Panic spiked in his chest, but by now it was too late to turn back, either way. If he was apprached, Izuku would figure out an excuse, but seeking out a way to help Kouta was his main priority, in that moment.

Right outside, Izuku was met with the sight of Yuki and Shirakumo laying on the ground, pointing up at the sky and laughing. He quickly wondered if they did that the previous night, too. As he stepped towards them, both heads snapped to look at him.

Yuki was the first to get up, a smile on her face, but a concerned furrow to her brows. Shirakumo followed behind – that might have been the first time Izuku has ever seen him stand – tilting his head in question.

“What’s up?” Yuki asked.

Izuku nodded his head to the side, before walking in that direction. Once they were shrouded by the trees, Izuku explained what the man had asked of him.

“So you decided to sneak out?” Shirakumo raised an eyebrow, “I can respect that. I didn’t pin you as that kind of kid, though.”

Izuku huffed, “I don’t make a habit of it.”

They didn’t walk for long before finding the clearing. It was small, and definitely not man-made like the other’s seemed to be. Kouta’s parents were already waiting. The woman was biting her nails, while the man was pacing.

The mother was the first to spot them, her eyes lighting up, “Thank god.”

“Thank you for coming, and I’m sorry it had to be this late,” the man bowed slightly.

Izuku waved them off, “It’s okay, really.”

“Well, no, it’s not,” Yuki first addressed him, then narrowed her eyes at Water Hose, “He broke the rules for you. This better be worth it.”

“Of course,” the mother began, “We’ve been really worried about Kouta. Our deaths were hard on him. He just closed himself off, from his friends, from his aunt. He grew this hatred towards heroes, as you saw.

“Kouta stopped eating properly, and he doesn’t sleep well at night. We’ve seen how much Shino has been trying to help out, and so have the others. But very little has managed to really make a difference.”

Her voice warbled with suppressed emotion, and her eyes grew glossy. He felt for the two, but he sympathised more with Kouta. Going off of their words, the boy hasn’t been dealing with their deaths well, if at all.

“We wanted to ask a favour of you,” the father took over, “You can see us, and you look like you care for our son, too. We would want to speak with him.”

Oh. That’s what this has all been about. Izuku experienced this a few times before – ghosts wanting him to be a messenger between them and their still-living loved one. From observation, it never worked as anyone expected.

The living person usually didn’t even believe he saw the ghosts, and would call him creepy and a stalker. When they believed, it was usually because the death was fresh and they were desperate. That also didn’t end well.

Izuku frowned. He wanted to help Kouta, and there was a likelihood of the kid getting some closure from being able to communicate with his parents. Yet, he was still just a kid, a kid that didn’t fully understand.

“I’m very sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said apologetically.

Their faces instantly fell, both pairs of eyes training to him with wounded confusion.

It was like a spot-light was trained on him, “Um, I don’t think he would even believe me. He already doesn’t like me, he would see that as me rubbing salt in his wound.”

“But can’t you at least try?” came a teary voice.

A response formed on his tongue, but before he was able to voice it, a rustle of leaves and a thump came from a nearby bush. His head snapped to it, his heart beating against his ribcage. It could be just an animal, but the fear of somebody finding him was too great to ignore.

Yuki looked to him, before walking over to find the source of the noise. The atmosphere was tense, but Izuku was pretty sure he was the only person making it such. As Yuki looked over the tree, she snorted an aborted laugh.

“It’s just Bakugou.”

“Kacchan?” Izuku called out, baffled.

A whispered string of curses and more rustling followed. First a blonde head of hair popped out, then Kacchan’s annoyed scowl. Izuku felt like their expressions should be swapped, since he wasn’t the one eavesdropping.

“Did you follow me?”

Kacchan grumbled, “You were acting all suspicious. Then you just got up in the middle of the fuckin’ night. I guessed it had something to do with your ghosts.”

“He knows about us?” the father asked.

“He knows I can see ghosts, yeah.”

“Fuck do they want from you this time?” Kacchan asked, crossing his arms.

Shirakumo chuckled, “What, is he worried?”

“Um,” Izuku stuttered, but decided to ignore the ghost, “They’re Kouta’s parents. They want me to talk to him.”

The other raised his eyebrow at him, “So? Don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to agree. Never mind, you are annoyingly fuckin’ stupid.”

“What I wouldn’t give to punch the kid in the nose,” Yuki scoffed.

“No,” Izuku turned to her, eyes narrowed – Kacchan raised an eyebrow at that, “We’re straying off topic.”

“Um,” the father drew attention back towards him, “We know this is a hard ask. But we beg of you, let us talk to our son.”

“I know you want to talk to him, but believe me, it will only end worse for everyone,” Izuku replied, sighing.

The mother sniffled, “Please, you have to try. What if it helps?”

“Lady, he’s telling you it likely won’t,” Shirakumo said, tone placating.

At the same time, Kacchan scoffed, “Are you letting them talk you into it?”

Izuku’s eye twitched, breathed in deeply, “I can relay a message, if it’s vague enough.”

Kacchan looked at him judgementally, “Seriously?”

Water Hose seemed to consider the idea in silence. They looked at each other, contemplatively. The mother glanced away first, staring at the ground with a saddened frown. Her husband took her hands, giving them a squeeze.

“Are you sure there isn’t something more you can do?” the man asked.

Sighing, he looked at the couple. He didn’t know what to offer them, but he couldn’t do what they wanted from him. But he worried for Kouta, he wanted the kid to have some kind of closure. As he opened his mouth to reply, Kacchan cut him off.

“Are they speaking, right now?”

“No,” Izuku shook his head, confused.

“Alright, listen to me, then, because Deku can’t argue for shit,” his eyes scanned over the clearing, searching for the invisible, “The kid is six, he probably doesn’t even understand what death fuckin’ is.

“Speaking to his dead parents might make his grief worse, have you considered that? What he needs is therapy, not some stranger who claims he can speak to the dead. Grief counselling exists for a reason.”

Izuku stared at Kacchan, stunned. The other was always incredibly intelligent, but advice wasn’t something he excelled at. This was like seeing a new side to him. His brain didn’t even register that Kacchan was helping him.

Kouta’s parents let out a unanimous sob, clinging to each other.

“Your friend is right,” the mother whispered with a broken voice, “We...I let my own grief blind me, didn’t I? Therapy. Why have we never thought of that?”

A beat of silence, occasionally broken up by sobs. Shirakumo floated over to the couple, patting them both on the back, smiling sadly himself. Yuki walked closer to Izuku, her expression thoughtful.

“Hey, we can try to make you this one favour,” Shirakumo looked nervously at them, “We can try telling his aunt about therapy, or something.”

“Yes, thank you,” the mother unstuck herself from her husband’s side, a weight to her voice, “We would love that.”

Izuku attempted a smile, “I’ll see what I can do.”

The mother exhaled loudly, shakily. She rolled her shoulders, and stroked her left arm self-soothingly. The father brought his hands to his face, wiping tears off of his cheeks, clearing his throat.

“Thank you, we really are grateful,” he said, bowing, “We’ll better be off now, we’ve caused you enough stress.”

Unable to think of a reply, Izuku looked after them as they walked away. The atmosphere was awkward, even Yuki and Shirakumo were unnerved. This was a first for the latter, but he and Yuki were familiar with the awkward feeling of dealing with strangers’ high emotions.

Kacchan stood by him, still silent, still scanning the clearing with his eyes. He was fidgeting in place, and the grimace on his face telling of his patience running out.

“They left,” Izuku turned to the other.

“How I love having one-sided conversations,” Kacchan snarked, “What the fuck did they say?”

Izuku pulled at his fingers, “They thanked you...and cried, a bit. I’ll, uh, try bringing up therapy with Mandalay?”

Kacchan scoffed, “Thanking me for what? Making them realise they’re shitty parents? Of course the kid needs therapy.”

“They’re ghosts, it’s more complicated than that, they’re already grieving their own life-”

“Of course it’s fuckin’ complicated, when have your ghosts not been complicated,” Kacchan scowled at him.

Izuku frowned, “Kacchan, they’re dead, that’s always going to be complicated. What’s your problem?”

“My problem, Deku, is that you always run off, sneaking around with your complicated ghosts as if your secrets are above everybody!”

“I can’t just go around telling everyone I can see dead people, Kacchan!”

“What’s that about dead people?” came Aizawa’s tired, yet stern voice.

Izuku, froze.

He shrunk in on himself. Breath picking up, heart rate spiking up. That was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. Yet, he still snook out, he still argued with Kacchan, practically shouting at each other.

“Nothing,” Kacchan looked angrily at Aizawa, “Don’t butt into private conversations you don’t know the context for. Nobody’s fuckin’ dead.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow at him, before raking his eyes over Izuku, his face twitching with something unreadable when he noticed the panic. Yuki was already beside him, trying to calm him down, but Izuku’s brain was mush, and his heart was threatening to break his ribs.

Their teacher exhaled, “Bakugou, go back inside, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“No, fuck you-”

“Bakugou,” Aizawa warned, “I’ll make sure he calms down before escorting him back.”

He distantly heard Kacchan scoff as he walked away, steps heavy with anger, kicking the pebbles in his way. Another set of footsteps, this time coming closer to Izuku, who was staring at his feet, hoping everything would stop.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa prompted. It wasn’t harsh, but it still made him flinch.

“Midoriya,” he tried again, “Breathe with me, you’re not in danger.”

Izuku tried, but it felt impossible. He was overwhelmed, and scared. This has never happened in front of a teacher, and definitely not in front of a teacher he trusted. He was going to get in trouble, and then he was going to be called crazy.

“Midoriya, can I touch you?”

Shaking his head at first, Izuku transitioned the movement to a nod. His hand was brought up from his side, and Izuku had to open his eyes – he didn’t notice closing them – to see his hand being laid on top of Aizawa’s chest.

It was moving. Up and down. He was told to match the movement. Izuku could also feel Aizawa’s heartbeat under his palm, it was a little frantic, but his breathing was controlled and steady.

Over the next few minutes, Izuku managed to get his breathing on order. His heart beat slowed, as did Aizawa’s under his trembling palm. He heard his brain calm, a steady buzz filling it instead.

“Good,” the man sighed, “Would you like to sit down?”

All he could do was nod, as he was led downwards, onto the grass. Still focused on his breathing – in and out – Izuku finally looked at Aizawa’s face. He has never seen so many emotions cycle through the man’s face, it was uncanny.

They sat in silence for a few minutes more. Yuki and Shirakumo sat down beside them. Yuki scooted over to Izuku, as close as she could, as Shirakumo sat next to Aizawa, so he was in Izuku’s view.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispered out.

“For?”

“Sneaking out.”

Aizawa shook his head, “We’ll talk about that tomorrow, after you sleep. Let’s talk about what made you panic, for now.”

Anxiety spiked in his chest. He practically shouted that he could see ghosts to the whole world. Aizawa heard him, and Kacchan lied for him, to keep his secret from their teacher. There had to be a way to get out of this situation.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa said, “Like before, you don’t have to tell me. But, I am concerned. I want to help you, with whatever this is. Is it connected to your quirk?”

He shook his head.

Aizawa hummed, “Is it like your quirk? Something you have to keep secret?”

“I don’t,” he hesitated, not knowing how to properly explain it, “It’s safer, if I keep it.”

Silence, as his teacher thought. So did Izuku. He was getting too close to telling Aizawa the truth, but did he have a choice? Aizawa already heard him, he just lacked the details. His breath stuttered on an inhale.

“Are you scared of the reaction?”

Izuku curled in on himself more. Yes, he was scared of the reaction. He was right to be. People called him crazy. The professionals who were supposed to help him called him insane. His throat closed up. He didn't want the pills again.

“Midoriya, look at me,” Aizawa said, a set firmness to his tone, “I won’t judge you. I won’t berate you. I won’t harm you. I promise. I helped you with One for All, I want to help you with this.”

Tears wet his eyes, as a lone droplet fell down, more soon following. His lungs strained again, and he felt himself shaking. A spark of hope welled inside him, but dread quickly squashed it. A cycle, repeating.

“I want that to be true,” Izuku whispered out through the lump in his throat, “But that’s never happened.”

“Then let me be the first.”

Izuku looked up, locking eyes with his teacher. His face was once again set in his usual indifference, but his eyes were determined. When he looked in them, Izuku felt seen, and the hope became stronger.

What if?

What if Aizawa would be the first to not treat him like something he wasn’t? Not even his own mother could live up to that. A weight fell on his knee. It was Yuki’s hand. She was looking at him hopefully.

“How about this, I’ll tell you what I think this is about, and you tell me if I’m right, or correct me,” Aizawa proposed.

Izuku must have been quiet for too long.

On an impulse, he nodded. Aizawa shifted his position to sit more comfortably, before starting. Izuku fidgeted with his fingers as the man talked.

“Alright. I’ve noticed, in lesson, you would sometimes look off to the side, and sometimes your eyes would trail something that I didn’t see. In Tsukauchi’s office, after the mall incident, you suddenly looked over to the closed door, as if somebody new came in.

“You did the same thing when you were training with Shinso,” he paused there, scanning Izuku’s face, “When you told Bakugou you can see dead people, do you mean you can see ghosts?”

Like a spike to the heart, there it was.

“I...I,” Izuku stuttered, ashamed, “Yeah, yeah. It’s pretty fucking weird, isn’t it?” he chuckled hysterically.

He didn’t expect himself to swear, not in front of his teacher, and neither did Aizawa, clearly. The man’s eyes widened minutely, but he was quick to school his expression. Even Shirakumo looked slightly shocked.

“I wouldn’t say weird,” Aizawa said, “Not weirder than all the quirks in this world. It’s a little strange to learn that ghosts exist, but in no way is it your fault.”

“What?” was all Izuku could say as he looked on in surprise.

“I don’t think you’re lying, Midoriya. I doubt you would lie to me, or Bakugou for that matter, about this. If you were doing this for attention, I doubt you would be panicking over me finding out. Either way, it’s hard to fake all the accidental slip ups.”

“So,” Izuku looked at him, wide-eyed, “So, you don’t think I’m hallucinating? Or, or that it’s all in my head?”

“No. I imagine that conversation would have gone differently.”

That was...hard to process. It didn’t compute in his head that somebody could just believe him. What was he supposed to do now? Was there anything to do, now?

Aizawa glanced around the clearing, likely for the first time since he arrived, “Did a ghost lead you here?”

Izuku hesitated, at first, “Yeah. They were, um, Kouta’s parents. They died a few years back, and they wanted to talk to him.”

The other’s eyebrows furrowed, “I imagine you won’t be doing that?”

“No, but we agreed I’d ask Mandalay to consider therapy for him.”

“A good idea. It would be more logical if I talk to her myself. You focus on training.”

“Right.”

Aizawa looked thoughtful, for a moment, before shaking his head, “Thank you for telling me, Midoriya. As with your quirk, I promise to keep your secret, and to help you with it, if you’d like any.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, gratitude and relief making his voice crack.

“Of course. Is there anything else you want to tell me, right now?”

“Oh, oh!” Yuki lurched forward, “Tell him about me. I want to introduce myself.”

“Don’t tell him about me!” Shirakumo quickly butted in, desperate, “Please!”

Izuku’s eyes jumped from one to the other, shocked, and slightly concerned, respectively. Aizawa caught the movement, trying to follow his line of sight with a raised eyebrow.

“My sister wants to introduce herself.”

“Your sister?”

Izuku spluttered, the word slipped out accidentally, “Kind of. She died centuries ago. Her name’s Miyamoto Yuki.”

“Okay, okay, now, follow after me,” Yuki said.

“Um, she wants me to repeat what she’s saying,” Izuku said nervously, Aizawa nodded.

“Thank you, Aizawa, for taking care of Izuku. For trusting him, for helping him out, for being there” she said, suddenly serious.

She looked directly into Izuku’s eyes. He repeated her words shakily, cheeks tinted red throughout.

“It means a lot, to have a living person who believes in him, and that can do the things I can’t from the grave,” she continued, Izuku repeated, “You’re a good person, and a great teacher. Keep looking out for him, please.”

“Um,” Izuku felt how hot his face was after having to say all that to his teacher, “That’s all.”

Aizawa nodded, “That’s high praise, Miyamoto, I simply do what I should. It’s my job as Midoriya’s teacher, and a hero,” he said vaguely in the direction she was in.

“It’s more decency than most people give,” Yuki grumbled.

They sat together for a moment, everybody silent but the wind. After a while, Aizawa mentioned they should head back. Izuku followed his teacher without a word. He felt calm, if only for a moment – not even tomorrow’s punishment for sneaking out worried him.

Everything felt...alright.

Chapter Text

Despite having always known being a hero was a dangerous line of work, Katsuki had never imagined he would be kidnapped while he was still training to be one. Katsuki had never thought he could be weak enough to let himself be dragged through a portal by his neck.

Yet, there he was, in a dingy, dimly lit bar with no windows, strapped to a chair, arms held together by sturdy quirk-cancelling cuffs. His body was sore from the fighting, eyes stinging with sleep, and limbs stiff from the chair.

Katsuki’s mind was reeling. In his mind’s eye he could still picture Deku, right before Katsuki disappeared from his sight. Arms in make-shift splints, shirtless and bruised, face contorted in a swirl of emotions Katsuki could only understand as negative.

He was fucking ashamed of himself. For letting himself be kidnapped, for making Deku believe he had to be the one to stop the villains from capturing Katsuki. Deku looked truly desperate in that moment, and Katsuki knew his own face mirrored that.

Fuck, Katsuki still felt desperate. He was brought in hours ago, and he had not seen any of the villains since. The only other presence in the room was Kurogiri behind the bar, but the man hadn’t glanced in his direction once.

His stomach rumbled, and Katsuki began wondering if the League needed him fed. Katsuki had not been given a single clue as to the villains’ intentions, nor did he know why they chose him. His ego wanted to say it was because he was the strongest of his class, of course villains would target him, but, perhaps, he didn’t want that to be true.

By the time he heard the door opening, he was beginning to feel lethargic. But a spike of adrenaline fuelled by fear shot up his spine, waking him up instantly. It took all his will power not to look, not to find out who it was. He had to show them he wasn’t scared.

“Had a good night?” came Dabi’s amused voice, “They tied you up pretty good.”

Biting his tongue, Katsuki forced the snarky come-back down his throat. He hasn’t yet spoken a singular word, and he was adamant about keeping that record going. Regardless, he was sure his heart would leap out of his chest if they reacted wrong.

Dabi raised an eyebrow at him, as soon as he entered Katsuki’s line of sight. The left corner of his mouth was raised in a smirk, tugging at his scarred skin enough to look painful. As Katsuki continued to stay quiet, Dabi huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“Don’t wanna reply, eh?” he said, “Expected you to shout your throat raw. But maybe you already did, how am I to know?”

He didn’t wait for an answer that time, instead turning to the bar, looking directly at Kurogiri. Walking up up to it, Dabi rapped his knuckles against the bar top.

“Where’s the boss?”

“Shigaraki Tomura should still be asleep,” came Kurogiri’s curt reply.

The other grunted, annoyed, but said nothing. Sitting down on a stool, he settled for waiting. Not long later, the door opened back up, revealing the yandere girl. Katsuki hadn’t seen her much, but knew enough to distrust the innocence of her uniform.

She was grinning, a manic expression that looked horrifyingly natural on her face. In her hand, she twirled a butterfly knife like a fidget. Dabi turned around to scowl at her. She greeted him in kind.

“You’re so grumpy,” she pouted, “Would do you well to smile, once in a while.”

“I didn’t come here to get advice from a high school girl in a junior high uniform.”

“Awe, see, grumpy,” her voice was chipper, even as she complained.

Dabi rolled his eyes, waving her off, “Go bother someone else, for a change.”

A chill ran down Katsuki’s spine as Toga’s eyes trained on him. There was a crazed sparkle in them, a hunger. She smiled widely, her sharp canines on show, as she skipped over to where he sat.

“I’d love to know what your blood tastes like. Too bad I’m not allowed to harm you,” she whined, coming closer, “You’re not really my type, anyway.”

Katsuki had no interest in knowing what her type was.

“I wonder what Izuku’s blood tastes like,” she tilted her head curiously, “You know him, right? Would you tell me?”

His stomach twisted, hunger suddenly gone. He didn’t want Deku’s blood anywhere near him, let alone on his tongue. Katsuki didn’t dignify her with a response, not even a scowl – as much as he wanted to yell at her to fuck off.

Not deterred by his silence, she continued, “Or maybe Ochaco. She’s cute, I bet her blood tastes sweet. Like mochi.”

Toga’s smile turned soft, excited by the prospect, like a kid day-dreaming about being set free in a candy store. She wasn’t even talking to Katsuki any more, her eyes glazed and distant as she prattled on about her cravings.

Katsuki was spared further gut-churning monologuing by the arrival of the next person. The woman with a magnetic quirk – he saw her even less than the yandere. From Toga’s excited shout, he assumed her name was Magne.

Minutes later, another villain arrived, Twice, then Spinner, the Stain wannabe. They began talking, and bickering, and ignoring Katsuki’s presence completely.

With so many villains in the room, it was hard not to feel on edge, especially when any of them moved behind his back. Sweat pooled on his brow, his mouth would turn dry, heart picking up speed. None have done anything, most didn’t spare him as much as a glance.

Yet, Katsuki was in enemy territory, completely defenceless, tired, and hungry. He was their prey, and his face begged to betray how he felt about that fact. They were harmless as long as they were waiting, and Katsuki didn’t want them to stop.

The bar was loud with chatter, but everyone noticed when Shigaraki entered. He walked in, carrying his feet like dead weights. The room fell silent, everyone focusing on their leader with rapt attention.

Shigaraki grunted, shooing Dabi out of the stool he was in – Dabi made his annoyance known, but still moved away – and promptly sitting in it. His face was unreadable, with that shitty hand in front of it. He was slouched in his seat, almost laying down on the bar top.

“Kurogiri, feed the brat,” he commanded.

Surprise shot through him, but Katsuki didn’t dare call it out. He simply swallowed his pride, letting Kurogiri come close with whatever food he would be forced to eat. The other villains lost interest quickly, to the eternal relief of Katsuki’s ego.

Kurogiri made no comment as he fed Katsuki, keeping his expression empty and movements simple and concise. Unlike the rest, Kurogiri never radiated any malice – nonetheless, Katsuki wasn’t stupid enough to underestimate him – instead, he acted like a robot following some programming.

Katsuki couldn’t begin to understand what that meant, but Kurogiri couldn’t just be a typical human. He only ever did things as commanded. He never stopped cleaning behind the bar, nor did he try to include himself in conversation.

Katsuki tuned back in as he heard his name come from Shigaraki’s mouth. Discussion has turned onto the public’s reaction to his kidnapping. They were laughing, mocking the media and UA. Katsuki felt anger well up in him, but it failed to reach his usually explosive levels.

They read an article out loud – Katsuki still didn’t know if it was to taunt him, or just because it was easier. Whoever the journalist was, they had little faith in Katsuki – fucker – theorising that he would join the shitty league of shitty villains.

He would never stoop so low as to become a villain. Katsuki knew this one thing about himself, he will be a hero. Perhaps Shigaraki should have done more research on him, if that was the purpose of his kidnapping.

Beside the little meeting they had about him, Katsuki was practically ignored. Conversation eventually strayed away from him, dispersing into topics nobody would question. Manga, the latest episode of some detective show, a video game.

It was too normal. They acted like they weren’t villains, like they didn’t have a hostage in the room. These were people who have killed before, yet they acted as if they were no different to a typical civilian.

Then, Toga sat down to do Magne’s hair, Dabi talking her through a French braid like he would with a little sister. Spinner and Shigaraki disappeared further into the building, as Twice rambled on about something to Kurogiri behind the bar. Katsuki thought it was all awfully...domestic.

He didn’t know what to expect from a kidnapping, but it wasn’t that. Movies, news articles, books, they always portrayed something downright harrowing and utterly fucked up. Torture, starvation, not a teen braiding somebody’s hair.

Eventually, the calming atmosphere got to Katsuki’s sleep-deprived brain, taking his guard down. Adrenaline and fear were no longer enough to keep him up, and his eyelids began to droop. In a last feat of strength, Katsuki waited until everybody left.

But, as soon as he found himself alone in the dingy bar, with only a purple mist cleaning glasses as background noise, Katsuki fell into a state of blissful unawareness.

Katsuki woke up the next day to an empty bar – sans Kurogiri. Although, there was no way of telling why, without the way to tell time. Katsuki didn’t know how long he slept, but he was glad it wasn’t long enough for the bar to fill.

It took hours for everybody to file back in, and once they did, Katsuki knew it was different to the previous day. The atmosphere was serious, everybody’s faces set into grim determination. Katsuki’s heart stilled as he realised. They were finally planning to do something with him.

Then, before he realised it, All Might stood by him. Katsuki was loathe to admit how relieved he felt. If not for the danger, he could have collapsed. The spark of relief dimmed substantially when black – familiar – sludge filled his throat, as he was teleported.

Fear replaced it completely when All For One made an appearance. Katsuki has never heard of the villain before, but his mere presence was debilitating. He was lucky, to only have dealt with the League at the bar.

A weight set in his heart as he watched the fight unfold on the screen – All Might quickly losing steam to a foe the world had forgotten about. The crowd was shouting, screaming, cheering him on. Beside him, Deku looked on with glossy eyes, which eventually spilled into sobs as All Might pointed a finger at the camera.

Katsuki could only stare.

His mother told him everything was fine, when he was finally able to see her. She said everyone who fought at the summer camp was recovering well. But it wasn’t – nothing was fine. He got himself kidnapped, heroes had to fight for him. All Might had to fight for him.

An emergency therapy session was scheduled for him the next day. The therapist had to come over to his house, because he was under strict guidelines not to leave. Something inside Katsuki wanted to argue, curse them out and shout at them that he could protect himself.

But he didn’t. His home...being near his parents...felt like a safety blanket. Warm and pleasant, and something Katsuki would never admit to anyone, especially not the hag, lest her head explodes. Neither of them pointed out the tear slipped that down his cheek at dinner.

For their next dinner, the Midoriyas came over. Aunty Inko looked worse for wear, and she gave Katsuki a hug as soon as she saw him. Katsuki didn’t protest. Aunty Inko was kind, nurturing to a fault. He lashed out at her a few times as a kid, but she never seemed angry, so Katsuki started feeling bad and eventually stopped.

Deku looked even worse than his mother. His arms were still bandaged, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. He walked with a slouch and a cautious eye. There wasn’t a moment where he paused to look at something for long.

Focusing on conversation seemed hard for him, scowling in frustration at himself when he lost track of the topic. His hands were fidgety, leg bouncing under the dinner table, swaying restlessly in his seat. Katsuki decided to corner him about this later, once he himself didn’t feel as Deku looked.

The next morning, Aizawa and All Might came over. Guilt stabbed at Katsuki’s heart upon seeing the retired hero, still tall but with no bulk he has gotten used to, and covered in bandages. They asked his parents to let Katsuki stay at the newly-built UA dorms.

Katsuki nearly scoffed, knowing his parents would agree. They had only one condition, but it was barely a condition. His therapist had to be able to travel to UA for Katsuki’s weekly sessions. His teachers were quick to agree.

Finally, Katsuki found himself in front of the newly built dorm, Heights Alliance. Hand in his pocket, fidgeting, he came to terms with having to see All Might more frequently, and the guilt that came along with knowing he caused his retirement.

Aizawa led them through the building, the extras bouncing around with excitement – like dogs with a new toy. Deku was still failing to focus his eyes on any one thing, but he was better at actually listening to what was being said.

The common room was huge, as was the adjoining kitchen – Katsuki smirked, already coming up with ideas for what to cook. The dorms themselves were also quite spacious, and, despite not showing them, Aizawa shared with them that he had an apartment on the topmost floor.

He went over the rules, before disappearing, leaving them all to fend for themselves. Instantly, everyone decided to unpack.

Katsuki liked to keep things simple. He didn’t find much need in decorations, most of his efforts went into his wardrobe, courtesy of his parents. Black-out curtains, black bedding, wooden furniture. A laptop, a desktop lamp – the necessities.

In the corner, he put a bookshelf, novels and manga to keep him occupied. A hand-held console. He put up a shelf, too, filling it with a few All Might figures. He dared bring only a fraction of his collection.

Sighing, he sat heavily on his bed. The room smelled fresh, like detergent, a complete contrast to the dingy bar. A hint of caramel hit his nose, too. It was normal, nothing weird about it, familiar. Not a bar, that carried the scent of alcohol and damp, not a battleground, that held the stench of blood.

He headed downstairs, unable to deal with the silence. Kirishima was there with Mina, sitting on the couch. Grimacing, he joined them, sitting far enough away to seem uninterested. They paused their conversation and looked right at him, however.

“Bakugou!” Mina exclaimed, “You done with your room, already?”

He raised an eyebrow, “And you aren’t?”

She laughed sheepishly, “Taking a break.”

“And you?” he nodded at Kirishima.

“I got hungry,” he scratched at his nape, “We were just talking about what to eat.”

Katsuki grumbled, getting up from the couch. Slotting his hands in his pockets, he walked away from the two.

“Hey, Bakugou, where you going?” Kirishima called out, following.

“To the kitchen.”

The pantries were stocked, and the fridge was full. It wasn’t hard to find all the pots and pans, nor was finding the utensils and plates. There were enough ingredients to make omelettes and some rice.

“Aw, are you making us food?” Mina cooed.

“Don’t get used to it,” they were going to get used to it.

Kirishima grinned, “I think that’s very manly!”

As he set the rice to cook, the two started up a mindless conversation. Something about leopard print. Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to get annoyed, as he, begrudgingly, welcomed the noise. When he moved onto preparing the eggs, Kaminari entered the kitchen.

“Are you making food?” he asked, voice giddy.

“Bakugou’s making omelettes!” Mina supplied.

Kaminari gasped, “Can you make me some?” he asked, with a tilt of his head.

“Fuckin’ fine. You’re lucky I made extra rice.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” he pitched his voice an octave, putting a hand over his heart.

“Cause I fuckin’ don’t, dipshit.”

“We love you, too.”

Another meaningless conversation later, and the four leeches were sat at the counter, eating. Katsuki sat with them, enjoying food that wasn’t bland, that he could eat himself, make himself.

He took the time to properly look at his...friends. As they talked, their expressions looked nothing but positive, yet It wasn’t hard for Katsuki to spot the eyebags they all shared. As much as everyone tried to move on, none of them could.

Others have begun trickling downstairs for lunch, too. Katsuki, pretending not to be nosy, observed what everyone made themselves to eat. Sato, despite being an amazing baker, held little skill in the art of the savoury.

Deku and Uraraka were possibly the most skilled chefs of 1-A – after Katsuki himself, of course. Deku, however, kept getting distracted while cooking, much to his little posse’s concern. He kept stumbling, or pausing in place for no discernable reason.

When asked, Deku laughed – a nervous edge to it – and waved off any worry. None of them were convinced, and neither was Katsuki. How many damn ghosts were in that kitchen for the nerd to struggle so much?

Katsuki scowled, already knowing what he was about to do. Once the extras began heading back up to their dorms, to further their unpacking efforts, Katsuki followed behind. He forced himself into Deku’s room before the door closed.

As expected, it looked like All Might threw up all over the place. Even the curtains. It was only half unpacked, yet it was already too much. Deku himself seemed better than at their joined dinner, a couple days prior. But he had dark circles under his eyes, and the slouch was ever-prominent.

“Um, Kacchan?” deep confusion laced Deku’s voice.

“Alright, what the fuck is up with you?”

With narrowed eyes, he asked, “Up with me?”

His gaze flitted away, again, following a ghost across the room. A few seconds later, Deku nodded, before his eyes jumped somewhere else again. Slight panic marred his expression, disappearing with the shake of his head.

“That,” Katsuki growled, “You’ve always been shit at hiding it, but it’s egregious now.”

Deku laughed nervously, “It’s just, uh, hard to keep up with.”

Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest, “And that is?”

“There’s just...a lot of them. And they like talking. And blocking my view.”

“Can’t you just tell them to fuck off?”

“No,” he visibly deflated.

A clatter, and both their heads turned to look behind Deku. An All Might figurine fell off of a shelf. Deku sighed, making his way towards it. His walk looked like one of a drunk man, as a twisted his body to avoid colliding with intangible people.

“They just learned they can touch things,” he said with a scowl, a true rarity on Deku’s face.

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, “How many of the fuckers are in this room?”

“Eight.”

“Eight?!” he exclaimed, “What the fuck do you mean eight? In this room alone? Why are they here?!”

“I am not repeating that,” Deku said to the air, before clearing his throat, “There’s Yuki, of course. But the other seven are...uh, kind of stuck to me?”

“Stuck to you,” Katsuki repeated, slowly.

“They can’t walk too far away from me. And, um, I doubt they will, any time soon.”

“Why the fuck are they stuck to you?”

“I don’t...!” he sighed, “It’s complicated. I want to tell you, really. I just, can’t, right now.”

“Yeah, you never can, can you, Deku?” anger welled up in Katsuki.

All these secrets, they infuriated Katsuki. Deku and his constant lies. It was true coincidence that he even knew about the ghosts. If they hadn’t known each other since they were brats, Deku would probably never have deemed Katsuki worthy of knowing.

This quirk of his, superpower, was also something that irritated him. A quirk that miraculously appeared, and all Katsuki got told about it is that Deku got it from someone. And now, Deku was acting ever more high and mighty than before, just because finally got a quirk.

Even when they were six, and Deku was barely ever at school, and looked sick for months. Katsuki was kept in the dark, too. The hag knew, she knew all about it. Even told Katsuki to go easy on the nerd. But he was never told why. Katsuki never deserved to know why.

Katsuki huffed, as no response came, “Does caterpillar-sensei know? Or did you feed him another one of your lies?”

“He knows,” Deku’s tone hardened, looking at Katsuki sadly, “Not about this, but he knows about ghosts.”

“He’s not noticed how you’re barely even functioning?”

“I’m functioning just fine!”

“And that stunt in the kitchen proves that?” Katsuki raised a brow.

“I’m getting used to it.”

At least that wasn’t a total lie.

“Get used to it quickly, then. I don’t wanna win just because your fuck-ass ghosts are bothering you,” Katsuki spat.

Not giving Deku a chance to talk back, Katsuki left the room. He was tired of it, anyway. All the posters and figurines felt like they were looking at him, judging. When the door closed behind him, he gave himself ten seconds to breathe and calm down.

There was no point arguing with Deku, not right now. He got his damn answer, but he didn’t care for anything more. Katsuki knew a time would come where he got the chance to beat the reason for seven fucking ghosts following him around.

Having no more work in his dorm, Katsuki thought his best course of action was heading back to the ground floor. Few were still there, looking through what the TV had to offer, or sleeping on one of the couches, like Sero was.

Katsuki was more interested in going back to the kitchen, however. It was nowhere near the time for dinner, but he wanted to make something. Even if it all ended up as left-overs. Onigiri came to mind. Not a meal, and it would occupy him for some time.

Cooking was the perfect hobby for Katsuki. Letting him do something active, without making adrenaline pump through his body. It was useful, too, he supposed.

He was taught by his father, when he was a kid. Katsuki had just gotten his first hearing aids – which he was not happy with – and the cooking lessons served as good distraction. It began with his father announcing they needed some father-son boding time, as he was dragged into the kitchen.

Katsuki grumbled at first, not interested and not in the mood. But his parents, as much as he hated to admit it, knew how to motivate him. His mother looked him square in the eye and told him he couldn’t be the best if he didn’t learn.

Coincidentally, these lessons made him like his hearing aids, albeit begrudgingly at first. With them on, he was able to hear the food cooking, the sizzling, the bubbling of boiling liquids. His father always made sure that they stopped for a minute and just listened to the sound.

“Hey, Bakugou!” came Uraraka’s high voice, “You making food?”

Katsuki grunted.

“Oo, whatcha making, then?”

He sighed, “Onigiri.”

Uraraka squealed, “That sounds amazing! Can I help? We could make some for everyone.”

Katsuki weighed his options. On the one hand, having someone else in the kitchen was annoying – he liked when things were the way he wanted them to be. On the other, company wasn’t completely unwelcome, at the moment, as much as he didn’t want to admit such thing.

“As long as you don’t get in my way, and listen to my instructions.”

“Done and done!” she mock-saluted him.

Most of the ingredients were already laid out, with some extra having to be retrieved in order to make enough for the whole class. Uraraka made the rice, as Katsuki started preparing the fillings. Eventually, both joined efforts, and, Katsuki had to admit, working with Uraraka was quite enjoyable.

She would chatter, occasionally, or ask him questions. Sometimes, he would amuse her, other times he would glare at her and tell her to get back to work. She wasn’t deterred – none of the extras were, in any case.

“Are you making Onigiri?” Jirou asked, walking up to the island.

“Yes! We’re making some for the entire class,” Uraraka replied, hands busy moulding a triangle.

Jirou snorted, hiding it behind her hand, “And Bakugou’s helping you?”

Uraraka grinned, “It was his idea.”

Kaminari walked up behind Jirou, “With Bakugou as our cook, and Sato as our baker, we’re set!”

They laughed together, while Katsuki’s eye twitched.

“Do you think Sato knows how to make mochi?” Uraraka exclaimed, “It’s my favourite.”

The others kept talking, but Katsuki’s mind flashed back to Toga. How she likened Uraraka to mochi in excruciating detail. He forced himself to take deep breaths, like his therapist taught him.

“Bakugou? Are you alright? You stopped,” Uraraka said, pausing in her own work.

Katsuki scowled, “Mind your business,” he spat, with as much heat as he could muster.

It was typically easier. Natural. Yet, recently, the heat has been disappearing, on occasion. Just like the weeks following his encounter with the sludge villain.

“You sure?” Kaminari said.

He scowled deeper, daring any of them to bother him about this again. None of them brought it up, after that, letting him and Uraraka continue making Onigiri.

As they worked silently, the girl would occasionally risk taking a concerned glance at him. She didn’t say anything, though, so Katsuki kept his irritation to himself.

Uraraka hummed, as if in thought, “Bakugou?”

“Fuckin’ what?”

“Do you know sign language?”

“Of fucking course, I do,” he scoffed, offended.

Her eyes sparkled, “Will you teach me?”

Katsuki looked at her, incredulous, “Why not ask Deku, aren’t you all buddy buddy?”

She fidgeted with the rice in her hands, “I could. But I want to surprise him and Kouda.”

“And why would you think I would help you?”

“Are you saying you’re not good enough to teach me?” she taunted.

He growled, “I’m the fucking best, asshole!”

“It sounds to me like you’re saying Deku is better than you, if you want him to teach me,” she challenged.

“I’ll fucking show you how much better I am than Deku,” he spat.

“Classroom after lessons works for you?”

“Deal, except Wednesdays.”

“Deal,” she grinned victoriously, “Wait. Why Wednesdays?”

“I’ve got therapy on Wednesdays.”

“You go to therapy?”

He side-eyed her, raising an eyebrow.

Uraraka’s eyes widened as she realised, “No, never mind, I get it, sorry.”

She laughed sheepishly, embarrassment flushing her face. Katsuki rolled his eyes, looking back down at the Onigiri he was moulding. They’ve made a good amount, already, the rice was quickly running out.

“Ah, we’re almost finished,” Uraraka commented, back to her cheery self, “I’m so excited to eat these.”

Plating them up, the Onigiri were set down on one of the four dining tables. Clapping her hands, Uraraka squealed in delight. Katsuki crossed his hands over his chest, walking over to the couches.

“Oi, extras! There’s Onigiri on the table, don’t fuckin’ waste it.”

“Oh, and leave some for everybody!” Uraraka added.

Hums of interest rang out, the extras looking amongst themselves curiously. Every one of them left to check the food out.

“You guys made them together?” Shinso asked.

“That a fuckin’ problem?” Katsuki glowered.

“No,” he sweat-dropped, “Surprising, is all.”

Katsuki scoffed, not bothering to reply. Instead, he headed back to the kitchen, not caring to eat the Onigiri himself. The mess wouldn’t clean itself, after all. Gathering all the bowls and plates, he set them in the sink.

“I’ll help,” Uraraka popped up behind him.

“Knock yourself out.”

They worked together, once more. Katsuki rinsing out the dishes, Uraraka putting them in the dishwasher. It wasn’t so bad, moving alongside her. Much more peaceful than Katsuki expected, at first.

There was a respect he held for the girl. Especially after the Sports Festival, where she gave him a good, challenging fight. It made him look forward to future training with her. She matched his competitiveness at every turn, sparking a natural rivalry.

Never, would he have expected for her to suggest cooking alongside him, or cleaning. Though, fair to her, Katsuki didn’t expect himself to agree. All of 1-A was strange, in that way.

They treated him like he was normal, as if he didn’t shout at them and berate them at every turn. He had always thought the only friends he could have were like those extras from junior high, following him like ducklings because he was the best.

Nobody, in this class, has ever done that. If he did something annoying or rude, he would be called out. It was fucking annoying at first, but Katsuki has gotten better at understanding them. They warmed up to him eventually, and he...warmed up to them too.

Though, he would still never admit that to anybody, he has only recently been able to admit it to himself.

Chapter Text

Izuku was exhausted. Truly, very exhausted. A full night’s sleep has alluded him for so long, only in the last couple of days has he been able to close his eyes for longer than five consecutive hours. Such deep exhaustion had never been uncommon, but he would be lying if he called it welcome.

Adrenaline, fear, anxiety, excitement and curiosity all swirled in his head – emotions he did not want, nor were entirely his. Every night, they would keep him wide awake, making his heart beat in a way that could only be described as erratic.

He took these sleepless hours to research his new companions, whom were making said hours sleepless. There wasn’t much about them on the internet, truthfully, in part due to their need for secrecy. But, there has also been a trend he has noticed when researching, that the first century of quirked history was very poorly documented.

The silver lining, in all this mess, was how understanding One for All’s ghosts were. After the first night of confusion and figuring everything out, they worked out a system, just like the one he had with Yuki. Thus, at least, he had his own privacy, if nothing else.

However, their emotional link to Izuku did not weaken with distance, and, despite his ability to stop himself from reacting on said feelings, he still felt them. Sometimes, his own curiosity kept him awake, wondering where all those emotions stemmed from, why they formed.

During the day, he wasn’t afforded much rest, either. It took everything in him to not grow frustrated, act out like Kacchan did when he got annoyed. At the back of his brain, something would remind him that they also didn’t ask to be tied down to him, and Izuku felt himself calming down.

Turning corners became his number one enemy – suddenly, villains stopped looking so intimidating to him. None of the seven ghosts knew when he planned to turn around, and what ensued was him walking into them. Izuku stayed standing, unbothered, since ghosts had no mass, but the ghost ended up tripping, maybe falling on their ass.

It was something Izuku had been avoiding his whole life, because the ghosts always got the short end of the stick, and Izuku always felt rude. So, he tried not to do it, by being very careful where he stepped, and pausing as he turned. His mother grew easily worried of the new behaviour.

Once he moved into the new UA dorms, this juggling act became all the more difficult. His mother knew about the ghosts, his classmates did not. Many concerned glances were thrown his way, and many more confused.

Most unfortunate, were the stares from Aizawa. The man was smart, he based his entire career on his above average perception, thus it was only a matter of time before he noticed something was up. And, of course, Izuku was correct, because it wasn’t long before Aizawa approached him about a meeting.

They were scheduled to meet that morning, at a small training room meant for two or three people to spar. Aizawa had phrased it like a test to make sure One for All didn’t suddenly present new, negative effects for Izuku after All Might’s last embers blew out.

Izuku knew what said effects were, namely the ghosts of the past seven holders of One for All materialising, linked to Izuku indefinitely – or for as long as he held onto One for All. That, however, was something that he would rather keep to himself.

Since day one, he was incapable of keeping up with the generational power of the quirk, and he knew that that in itself had sparked doubts within Aizawa over whether Izuku was ever worthy of his position at UA. This situation, with which Izuku was not dealing well, could as well be the nail in his coffin.

Even worse, All Might was supposed to be there, as well. He would be making a fool of himself in front of Aizawa and All Might – oh, how lucky he was. Very, apparently, as he has already been embarrassing himself in front of the past holders of One for All. Every respectable figure in his life had to be witness to his humiliation.

Izuku sighed, making eye contact with the despondent eyes of his reflection. Through it all, he hasn’t had the time to even process the fight at Kamino, or anything that happened at the summer camp. For the better, but, perhaps more likely, for the worse.

Deft fingers tugged at the collar of his gym uniform, away from his throat. He sighed again, looking away from the eyes staring right through his soul. He was alone in his dorm, but he wouldn’t be for long, and nothing has ever made him feel lonelier.

The gym uniform was a very nice shade of blue, Izuku’s untrained eye couldn’t make out if it matched his green hair, but he liked it nonetheless. The prominent UA logo was what made the uniform truly stand out, but Izuku felt it didn’t fit him that well.

He wanted it to, he wanted it to fit him so damn bad. There was never a doubt in his mind that UA was were he needed to end up, yet, now that he had, unease settled in. Perhaps, it was the inadequacy he has always felt.

Perhaps, it was the reality of how unfit he was for One for All. He had to train for nigh a whole year, and he could still barely maintain the quirk at a meagre percent. The holders, too, had made it clear how weak they knew he was.

The second wielder, Kudo, and the third, Bruce, – as he learned they were called, thanks to Yoichi – refused to interact with him. Unless when necessity called for it, neither would talk to him, always keeping to themselves. Faced away, whenever they could, only conversing amongst themselves in whispers, always far away.

“Izuku!” Yuki’s sudden call snapped him out of his thoughts, diverting his attention to the ear sticking out of his door, “You ready yet?”

He heaved a deep breath in, letting it out slowly, and straightened his back, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll come out in a sec!”

He found himself in an impossible situation, one which was fated to go south, one he couldn’t get out of. But, there was no backing out of it, and he wouldn’t give up, not now. If he couldn’t change anything, he had to show he could get through this hurdle.

Eight ghosts waited for him in the hallway, making the wide space feel crowded. It being uncomfortably early in the morning, nobody was out of their dorms yet, leaving an eerie silence behind. Izuku shivered, goosebumps raising on his exposed arms.

“Are you alright, Izuku?” Shimura Nana, the seventh holder, asked, a gentle smile on her face.

She was very motherly in how she treated him, reminding him strongly of his mother. All Might had made a similar comment about their appearance, a few days ago. She was, indeed, a very beautiful woman. He could not rid of himself of how uncannily similar they looked, when Nana looked at All Might.

That desperate fondness colouring her eyes, a wobble to her pinched lips, and the way her forearm twitched with the need to reach out. He knew that look. It was the same as when his mother stared at him, the one that made him want to cry.

“Oh, Toshinori, how you’ve grown into yourself,” she had said as she knelt beside a bowing All Might.

Izuku moulded his lips into a smile, glancing at the woman with all the confidence he could muster, “Yeah! Let’s go, I have to warm up first,” he whispered with fervour.

He began walking before anybody could ask him anything else, heading for the stairs. He jogged down them – as quietly as he could – ready for real adrenaline to be pumping through his veins. His head quietened when he exercised, focusing his thought stream into one avenue. Getting stronger.

Aizawa and All Might were waiting by the time he reached his destination, chatting quietly in a corner. Aizawa stood, as usual, with his arms crossed over his chest, mouth dipped slightly below his scarf. All Might was hunched over, yet still tall beside the other. He looked better, now, only minimally covered in bandages.

His mentor was the first to notice him walk into the room, smiling and waving him over. Izuku grinned back, walking toward him with a wave of his own. Aizawa simply nodded his greeting, head and nothing else turning his way.

“Young Midoriya, my boy, how glad I am to see you, again,” All Might said, one of his big hands landing on Izuku’s shoulder.

A sudden grief struck him directly in the heart, assumedly from Nana, but Izuku kept his grin as he mirrored All Might’s sentiment. He valiantly fought the curiosity making him want to look over at her.

“I apologise for bringing you both out so early,” Aizawa said, slightly bowing his head, “But we need to test this before real training, instead of just basing it on experience.”

“Eh, do we really think One for All could have adverse effects, now that All Might used it all up?” Banjo, the fifth holder, asked sceptically.

“Nothing happened to Toshinori once I died,” Nana replied, tone thoughtful, “But anything’s possible, One for All has gotten stronger, now.”

Izuku gulped down the ball growing in his throat. He hadn’t felt a change in the strength of One for All since the battle – it still thrummed under his skin as it did before. But, he also knew that wasn’t exactly what Aizawa was looking for, he was hoping for Izuku to tell him about the strange behaviour.

All Might glanced from Aizawa to Izuku, giving the latter a comforting smile, “Don’t worry, we just want you to activate One for All and have a short spar,” as he spoke, his hand squeezed Izuku’s shoulder.

“I’ll do my best,” Izuku promised, nodding with a smile.

All Might reciprocated the nod, and with a final pat to the shoulder, he moved away, giving Izuku space to walk away. The seven wielders didn’t follow him, instead staying by All Might’s side, having had the same idea. Aizawa, meanwhile, headed to assume his position.

As Izuku got ready, Banjo laughed triumphantly, “Finally, some training! We’ve been cooped up for far too long.”

Shinomori, the fourth, patted him on the back, “You’re not doing the training,” he chided.

“Ah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it all the same!” he exclaimed, fist flying to punch Shinomori is the sternum.

Yoichi shook his head in amused disappointment, “Let’s give Ninth some quiet.”

Izuku stood at the centre of the room, Aizawa a few metres in front of him, All Might to the left. The right side of his head burned, so he diverted his attention from the holders bickering to Aizawa, who was staring at him questioningly, eyebrow raised.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, and he forced down the nervous chuckle that was threatening to bubble out at being caught out. He swallowed around the lump of nerves and met Aizawa’s eyes with a determined smile, moving into a battle stance.

Aizawa’s eyes widened minutely, but not for long, as he began, “Now, activate One for All Full Cowl to the maximum percent you can.”

“And don’t turn it off, unless you feel like something is wrong. Pain, or slipping control,” All Might added.

Nodding, Aizawa continued, “Then you’ll spar with me, at my mark. Keep One for All active, I’ll make sure not to use Erasure.”

Izuku gave the affirmative, and evened his breath out. He had sparred with his teacher countless times over his months at UA, this was something he was familiar with. The seven ghosts posed a new challenge, a new variable so wildly unfamiliar, yet one Izuku was determined to overcome.

He felt the welcome electricity pulse through his veins, warming his skin with power. The static electricity that made the hairs on his arms stand up, the crackling in his ears. Whispers from the past holders reached him, but Izuku was adamant to ignore them.

All eyes were on him, calculating and observant. He made eye contact with All Might, smiling at him and nodding, then he looked at Aizawa, giving his teacher a triumphant grin. The small win was short-lived, however, as Aizawa signalled for the spar to start.

Instantly, white fabric came at him, but Izuku let reflex pull him toward the wall to his right. Aizawa’s scarf flew right past where he was standing, yet the man himself never let his eyes wonder away from Izuku’s figure darting away.

Another strand of fabric came toward him, and Izuku made to jump at Aizawa to knock him down, except, due to his rapid movement, the holders’ ghosts snapped back to where Izuku had been standing, obscuring Aizawa from view.

It was Izuku’s mistake, really, that he jumped before confirming where his target stood. Maybe, he relied too much on his memory in fast combat, and if he looked and saw the ghosts where Aizawa once stood, he could have jumped to another wall, get a better vantage point.

As it was, Izuku lost focus mid-jump, wide eyes looking instead for the scarf to salvage the situation. Already panicking, he paid no mind to his need for landing, thus, instead, he face-planted into the ground, right beside Aizawa’s feet, pushing away a couple ghosts in his path.

He groaned in pain, One for All deactivating. He pulled his aching, sprawled limbs toward him, and pushed himself up into a crawl. The movement sent shooting pain straight to his nose, blood dripping onto the floor below.

Sighing, he got his muscles to coordinate enough to stand up, a skinny arm helped with the effort by hauling him up by the armpit. Once he found himself steady on his feet, he raised a hand to his nose, confirming the source of the blood.

“My boy, are you alright?” All Might asked.

Izuku looked up at the man, who looked down at him with a creased brow, sunken eyes flashing with worry. His hand migrated from his armpit to a supporting grip on his upper arm, holding tightly for fear of collapse. Izuku gulped, feeling ashamed for bringing out All Might’s worry.

“Yes, sorry, I,” he chuckled nervously, but it came out nasally, “I got distracted, sorry.”

All Might hummed, “It doesn’t look like you broke your nose, but we should still get Recovery Girl to look at it.”

Izuku waved his hand, dismissively, “No, no, there’s no need. It already stopped bleeding.”

All Might’s nose scrunched up, for a moment, as his lips twitched, brows drawing closer. Izuku knew, in that moment, that even All Might was getting suspicious. All Might, surely, didn’t need to know.

“I got distracted, and lost focus. That made me panic and I forgot to land. One for All felt fine, I didn’t feel my control slipping, and it stayed as consistent as before,” Izuku rambled, panicked.

“Ah, I wasn’t worried about that,” All Might began, and his voice sounded even more worried.

Before he could go on, Aizawa butted in, “I’ll take him to Recovery Girl, since we’re both heading to the dorms, anyway. One for All didn’t act up, so there’s no need to prolong this training.”

All Might looked up, eyes going to Aizawa’s. He let go of Izuku’s arm, patting it for good measure before letting his hand fall to his side. Slowly, his lips turned upward into a smile, gentle and warm. But his eyes were still worried.

“Of course, I’ll come with you.”

“No need,” Aizawa’s tone stayed level, “You should go back and get some rest. If you show up at Recovery Girl’s right now, she’ll think you need healing.”

Brining a hand to scratch at his nape, All Might laughed, a self-deprecating edge to it, “You’re probably right, Aizawa,” with a sigh, he looked at Izuku with the kindest eyes, “I’ll see you both later today.”

Just like that, All Might left. Wordlessly, Izuku turned to Aizawa, who was already looking back at him, expectantly. They walked in silence. Not comfortable, but not hostile. Aizawa was giving Izuku the time to think about his actions.

For Izuku, however, it stopped being silent very quickly, as Banjo spoke up, “Ah, that’s our bad, kid. We didn’t know that could happen. Your nose looks nasty,” he winced.

“Toshinori was right, it doesn’t look broken,” Nana added, she was floating beside him, eyes scanning the offending appendage.

Izuku sighed quietly, deciding to ignore the ghosts for now. It would have been harder to ignore Yuki, but she was being strangely silent, and perhaps Izuku was glad for that. When they arrived, Recovery Girl gave the same diagnosis as everyone else. She kissed his cheek, and his nose went back to normal, with some minor bruising.

As they were walking back to the dorms, with the sun rising on the horizon, Izuku’s resolve finally snapped. He could feel Aizawa’s own resolve to get the truth out of him resting heavily on his back. The kind only a teacher could have, the kind that came with the expectation of reflection from the student. A punishment of the highest calibre.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” he said, eyes downcast.

Aizawa hummed non-committally, “What are you apologising for?”

“I keep getting distracted,” he began, ever so slowly. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “After All Might’s fight, the ghosts of the previous wielders of One for All manifested. They used to be shadows following behind me, but they’ve only been getting stronger as All Might kept using up his last embers of One for All.

“They’re connected to me, now, by a...um...maybe a radius of a few dozen metres. It’s hard to walk around, so I keep stumbling around, as everyone has probably already noticed. And during the spar they suddenly appeared right in front of you, so I couldn’t see where I was going.”

“Kid,” Aizawa intoned loudly, “Midoriya, take a breath.”

Izuku gasped a breath in, feeling his lungs expanding painfully, “Sorry.”

“There were seven, right? So you have seven ghosts stuck to you?” Aizawa raised an eyebrow, looking sideways at him as they walked.

He nodded, “Yes. We’ve been getting better at coordinating everything. They walk behind me, and stay to the side in a smaller room. They don’t speak over everything, any more, either.”

“And what about sleep.”

“It’s getting easier.”

“They don’t stay in your room?” Aizawa asked with a pointed tone.

Izuku’s eyes widened, “No! No, they’re very respectful of my privacy! That’s really not a problem.”

“So, what’s keeping you up at night?”

“Our emotions are connected. I can feel what they feel, to an extent, at least,” he sighed out.

“You can feel our emotions?” Yoichi flew in front of him, eyes wide in pure shock, “We can’t feel yours, unless your emotions are incredibly strong.”

“What?” Izuku murmured, eyes scrunching up.

Yoichi shook his head, “One for All reacts to strong emotions, so we can only feel your extremes.”

“I...” Izuku was too stunned to speak.

Aizawa hummed inquisitively. With some effort, Izuku relayed what Yoichi has just sprung on him. His teacher narrowed his eyes as he took the information in. Has Izuku been dealing with the repercussions of feeling the emotions of seven people, for no reason?

“Damn, kid, that’s...” Aizawa paused, “We’ll figure it out. For now, we don’t have much time before your provisional licence exams, so, we have to focus on you working together with the ghosts so they don’t block your vision.”

“Yeah, kid!” Banjo exclaimed, stance determined, “We’re all together in this! You’ll get your provision licence before you know it!”

Shinomori nodded, much more muted than the other, “We apologise for causing you so much hassle, we didn’t mean to be such a burden on you.”

Izuku felt a hopeful smile tugging at his lips. He could do it, of course, he could. He wasn’t alone in figuring it out, there were seven people in the same predicament as him, after all. Kind of.

“You’re supposed to be developing super moves,” Aizawa spoke again, a furrow developing on his brow as he thought, “We’ll have to be smart about this. We can’t train with the others, if you want to keep the ghosts a secret.”

Izuku glanced at his teacher, frowning, “You won’t be with the class during training?”

Aizawa looked back at him, face unreadable, “I’m the only one who knows about both One for All and ghosts, right? It’s only logical that I help you.”

“Kacchan knows, sort of. He noticed I was acting weird so I told him about them being stuck to me, just not why.”

Aizawa kept looking at him with that unreadable expression, “You really can’t keep secrets away from him, huh? It does make our mission easier. Cementos is scheduled to help out with training in Gym Gamma.

“We’ll ask him to block out a corner of the gym from the others and station Bakugou in front of it, just in case. The gym is big enough, and there will be enough cement structures that your presence will simply blend into the background.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. He looked at his teacher in awe, jaw slack. The plan was thorough, making it so nobody saw Izuku fumble his training, but so nobody got suspicious that he or Aizawa weren’t with the class.

“The man proves once again that he’s a genius,” Yuki finally piped up, and Izuku could only sigh in awed agreement.

Night had fallen over the city, stars just barely visible in the sky, shadowed by clouds. Bright, artificially yellow light spilled out of the streetlamps, guiding lost pedestrians back home. Cars stood on the road, their headlights illuminating the sight before them.

It was like some sort of warped mirror she was staring at. Her green hair was up the exact way she had it in that morning. A light dusting of mascara on her lashed, on a face that lacked any other make-up. The same pink cardigan she had put on an hour prior, the same white blouse underneath.

But, that couldn’t be her. It couldn’t. She was sitting on the curb. On the curb, not on the road. She was sitting. The other Inko was laying. Laying on the road. Not on the curb. On the road, in a pool of red. It was dry where she sat. On the curb.

The Inko on the road wasn’t breathing. Her chest didn’t rise. But, she sat on the curb, heaving with sobs. The other Inko wasn’t even making a sound. Here, on the curb, she was gasping. She was chocking on air. Air, that the Inko on the road had long expelled from her lungs.

Curling into herself, Inko could no longer stare at her own corpse. Her stomach churned, twisting with something bitter. Bile threatened to rise up her throat, but nothing came out. Her eyes stung, her nose ran. She wanted to rip her hair out, but she only held herself tighter.

Death. She was always afraid of death. Her parents died long ago. When visiting family, she would typically find herself at a cemetery. Then, Izuku was born, and she began fearing his death. There was no greater fear for her than the death of her son.

Her own death, however, she used to only think about on occasion. That is, until ghosts began existing. She had never had to grapple more with her own mortality than when she accepted ghosts existed. Countless nights, she would lay in her bed, imaging her gruesome death.

She had to fantasise no longer. It all lay right in front of her. Red, red, red blood. Everywhere. A red puddle. Red tire tracks. Red footsteps. The paramedics were crowding around her corpse, washed in the red, red, red, blue light of the ambulance.

There was shouting, there was whispering. There were sirens, there were lights. A stretcher got carried out of the ambulance, then placed beside her. Four medics picked her up, ever so gently, then laid her on the bed. Was it soft? Was it cold? Inko could only imagine.

How would Izuku react? When he learns that his mother perished in a car crash. When he learns that he became an orphan. When he learns that he no longer had a home. When he learns that his mother is nothing but a ghost.

Perhaps, she should feel lucky. She was a ghost, after all, and Izuku could see ghosts. Her death wasn’t a forever goodbye. Yet, yet it was, wasn’t it? His mother died, whether he could see and talk to her ghost, was it ever going to be the same?

She couldn’t be a mother to him, not any more. She couldn’t hold him while he cried. Or make him hot chocolate, exactly the way he liked it. Ghosts couldn’t cook katsudon for their sons. Wipe away their snot. Buy hero merch for them.

Inko could only ever be a visitor in Izuku’s future.

Like a rubber band snapping, another sob tore itself from her raw throat. Hopelessly, she sat on the curb until the commotion stopped, and she could no longer hear the sirens. When she once again opened her eyes, there was only a wet patch on the asphalt, all the red gone.

A sudden urge propelled her to stand on weak legs, that somehow also felt weightless. With slow steps, she made it to the centre of the road. Cars passed by her, their headlights blinding her as they did.

She stood there until the traffic picked up, sun rising on the horizon. White clouds appearing, rain not on the forecast. Her sobs have long turned into silent waterfalls down her cheeks. Salt trailing down her chin, slipping down her throat, wetting her white collar.

When her fingers tugged at the collar, the fabric was bone dry.

This was her existence now, wasn’t it? How fitting. She became the thing she feared. How ironic. All that time, Inko had thought she was protecting her baby. Now, she knew, the only thing she had ever done was harm him. Now, Izuku had nothing.

Nothing but her ghost.