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“You have so many new scars,” Shouto says quietly. Izuku resists the urge to draw away from the feather-light touch along his bare side. The skin there is still pink and raw, but mostly healed from his fight with Lady Nagant a week or two prior.
He furrows his brow. Was it only a week ago? It did become difficult to keep track at the end. Once he began avoiding All Might and the other heroes, he didn’t have much to keep him grounded. All that mattered was finding All For One and Shigaraki in time.
He buries his face deeper in Tenya’s neck. His hand cards through Izuku’s curls, freshly trimmed and brushed. It's the cleanest he's been in weeks – he'd already started to forget what that felt like, to be clean.
“I wasn't trying to get hurt,” he says. His voice still sounds so different. Even though he's smiling on the outside now, he fears his voice, deep and somber, gives away his fear.
All For One is still out there. Shigaraki is still out there. If their estimates are correct, then in a little less than a month…
“We know,” says Tenya, his voice soft in the way he tends to reserve for Shouto and Izuku. He had missed that tone, the gentleness of it, the way it feels like a warm embrace washing over him. “We're simply glad that you're safe.”
For now, he thinks, but does not say. Izuku sees the way Shouto's expression shifts slightly, and wonders if he thinks it too.
He lifts his head. Light from the rising sun spills through the open window and across Tenya’s deep blue sheets. Izuku squints, raising one arm to block it out.
“I can't stay forever,” he whispers. Gray clouds gust lazily across the sky, dampening the sunrise.
“We know.” Shouto gently wraps a hand around his arm, pulling it from his face. He presses a kiss to the back of his hand, right up against a deep stretch of scar tissue. Izuku leans back against Tenya, swallowing against a sudden tightness in his throat.
It’s only been a few days, and already his time is running out. More hired guns may already be on their way to lay siege to UA, prepared to cut through swathes of evacuees and students and his friends and his partners, and he…
He can do nothing about it now but wait. And rest. One For All waits just under his skin, heavier now than ever before. The presences of the previous wielders is distant, but they have not left him once since their appearance over a month ago.
Tenya’s fingers find a small knot in his curls, and slowly he works to unwind it. Izuku winces as he pulls the tangle loose, then relaxes again as he brushes it down again.
Izuku’s own fingers are rough and calloused. He looks up at the hand which Shouto now holds, the sunlight catching on his clean, short nails. So much blood and dirt had to be scrubbed from the space between nail and skin that Mina had actually begun to cry in frustration only halfway through the process.
His skin is pristine now, but he knows that as with everything he sees right now, it will not last. His hands will be dirty again soon enough, one way or another.
“I should get up,” he says, mostly to himself. Shouto shifts at his side, running another cool finger down the length of Izuku’s arm. “I should practice with these quirks… I need…”
“What you need,” says Tenya, turning his head, hair shifting across the pillow in a dark halo, “is to rest.”
“I have rested,” he says. Even so, he hears the weariness in his own voice. It is thicker than usual, and lower. “I have to keep working hard… for the sake of everyone’s happiness…”
“And what about your happiness?” asks Shouto. His finger pauses at Izuku’s wrist, taps twice against his scarred skin.
Izuku doesn’t answer. He closes his eyes, and lets his head sink back against Tenya’s warmth. His sleep shirt smells like his deodorant, and faintly of sweat. Shouto slides his fingers between Izuku’s, and Tenya plants a kiss against his bedhead.
“You can train later. For now, please, let yourself rest.”
Later comes along when the sun has fully risen past those thick gray clouds, shining through in random patches. Izuku follows his partners downstairs, pulling one of Tenya’s sweaters over his bare chest. It’s larger on him than he remembers, but still just as warm.
His classmates try not to crowd him too much at breakfast, as if afraid he might spook and run off again. He doesn’t plan on it, at least not yet.
All Might hasn’t returned since their short conversation the other night, but Izuku is sure that if he needed him for any reason, he would pick up.
“I know I’m supposed to be recuperating,” he says as he finishes his cereal, wiping the milk from his upper lip with the back of his hand, “but I still need to work on training One For All. I haven’t mastered it yet, and I’m running out of time.”
Shouto and Tenya share a look. Izuku blinks up at them, expecting to be shut down and turned toward some kind of useless relaxing activity.
Instead, Tenya nods sharply.
“We suspected that would be the case.” He pushes his glasses up on his nose, eyes closed. “We have already reserved a training gym for the day. The entire class has agreed to help you in any way you need.”
“You didn’t think we’d let you keep doing this alone, did you, kero?” Tsuyu passes by the table with a small stack of dirty dishes. Izuku lets a smile spread across his face.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Don’t think we’re going to let you push yourself too hard, though,” says Ochako, following Tsuyu to the sink with her own dishes in hand. “You’re still recovering!”
Izuku leans against Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto leans back, pressing their heads together for a moment. He captures a piece of his scrambled eggs and brings the end of the chopsticks to Izuku’s mouth. He laughs under his breath, but takes the offering.
And for a fleeting moment, wrapped in and leaning against familiar warmth, things feel normal again.
The UA gym uniform feels so strange now, like the remnant of another life. It was only a month and a half or so, he thinks, since he last wore his, but it is baggier on him than it was then. He sees the way his classmates react, the surprise that is quickly swept away when they realize he is watching their expressions.
“It’s so good to have you back, Deku,” says Ochako, still tying her hair up in a half bun. The sentiment is repeated like a mantra, echoing off the walls.
Izuku smiles and blinks away the familiar pressure of tears building in the corner of his eye. A bead of snot drips from his nose, and he hastily scrubs at his face.
“You guys,” he says, voice wobbly. “You…”
“Don’t cry,” says Kacchan, leaning against the wall by the changing rooms. “There’s no time for that, right?”
“You can cry if you want.” Eijirou comes out of the men’s side, wrapping an arm around Izuku’s shoulder. “It’s pretty manly. We don’t mind.”
They walk forward, and the class continues to chatter while the last few students get changed into their uniforms and support gear. Izuku presses himself up against Tenya, Shouto, Ochako, Tsuyu, and Yaoymomo, listening in to their conversation as he leans against Tenya’s shoulder.
His chest aches slightly as he thinks about this moment. How many more of these will he get? How many chances will they have to stand at each other's sides, to train and talk and laugh together?
Yaoymomo says something, and everyone laughs. He laughs along, coughing. He grabs at his chest, grinning wider than he thinks is really necessary. His friends and partners seem to eat it up, though, relaxing as they take in his feigned joy.
It’s not that he’s unhappy. He’s not. He’s so, so grateful to be here with them again, to be safe, to have the chance to rest and ready himself for the final battle to come.
He’s just… worried. About what comes after.
When everyone is finally ready, they break into groups to stretch and warm up, and Izuku can’t help but look around the room, take in each and every eager face, and wonder who will survive to see the start of the next school year.
By evening, Izuku is sore and exhausted and dizzy from falling on his ass too many times to count. His reaction time had been awful, and maybe proof that he should have waited another day or two before thrusting himself back into exercises.
He doesn’t have that luxury, though. None of them do, really, but he more than anyone has to be ready.
“Satou and Ojiro are making dinner,” says Shouto, joining him on the couch. He presses his warm side against Izuku, and then presses a kiss against his cheek. Izuku feels heat rush to his face.
“I don't know how hungry I am.” He isn't nauseous, but his stomach certainly isn't happy with him. He rubs the back of his head. Maybe he hit it at some point during training today, and didn't notice.
No, there were too many eyes on him. If he got concussed, someone would have seen, and aside from this and the dizziness, he doesn't really feel any of the regular symptoms.
“Can you try to eat at least a little? You worked very hard today, and you didn't have much for breakfast or lunch, either…”
“All Might told us you haven’t eaten much the past few days, either,” says Tenya quietly, appearing behind the couch. He leans between Izuku and Shouto, and Shouto bumps their heads together gently.
“I’ll try to eat.” Izuku takes Shouto’s hand in his own, and lifts them up so Tenya can plant a kiss on their intertwined fingers.
“Thank you, Izuku,” he says, standing up straight. “I’m going to go help set out some dishes. I’ll come get you when everything is ready.”
Shouto leans closer to Izuku as Tenya walks away. His eyes pierce through Izuku’s soul. “How are you doing?”
“…okay,” he says. Shouto stares at him, clearly waiting for elaboration. Izuku lets out a full body sigh. “This just feels… wrong, you know?”
Shouto breaks eye contact, looking down at the brown fuzzy blanket in Izuku’s lap. “I think I understand what you mean. We have a lot to do. Many messes to clean up.”
Izuku doesn’t need a telepathy quirk to know exactly what, or who, Shouto is thinking of. He squeezes Shouto’s hand. “You’ll find him. I know you will.”
Shouto nods, lips pursed. Izuku thinks that maybe they’re facing the same dilemma – kill, or save? Gran Torino’s words echo in his mind: Don’t be too stubborn. There are times when you need to kill someone to save them.
Don’t forget that.
“I believe that we can get through this,” Izuku says quietly, flexing his free hand into a fist. Shouto watches in silence. “I thought I had to do it alone, but… I don’t know that I want to anymore.”
“Yeah,” he says, pressing his head against Izuku’s shoulder. “Me neither.”
They stay like that until dinner, cuddled quietly on the couch. Izuku doesn’t manage to get down more than a few bites before he really does start to feel unwell, but he finishes his bowl anyway. Shouto smiles at him proudly, and Tenya nods, pressing his foot against Izuku’s under the table.
His uncertainty follows him throughout the night, but so do his partners, pressing up against him as he washes his dishes, as he sits through a cheesy All Might movie, as he presses into his bed, lifting the blanket to shake away the thin layer of dust that has settled overtop.
They fall asleep in a tangled pile, and for the first time in weeks, Izuku doesn’t have a single nightmare.
His head still hurts when he wakes. The sun has already risen, spilling its light across the hardwood. Tenya is gone, but Shouto is still pressed against his back, arms wrapped around his midsection.
He slowly extricates himself from Shouto’s hold, clearing his throat before he can whisper out an apology to his half asleep boyfriend.
Izuku trudges down the hall, dazed and exhausted. But he’s been asleep for nearly nine hours, which is more than enough. He blinks, suddenly finding himself in the bathroom, hands planted on either side of a sink.
“Morning, dude,” says Denki, slowly brushing his teeth. “You look like hell, man.”
“Mmm,” Izuku says intelligently. He splashes some water on his face and looks in the mirror. His skin is pale, paler even than when he’d first returned. The bags under his eyes are a little lighter, at least, but not by much.
He clears his throat again. His stomach protests as he swallows down phlegm, sending a small shiver up his spine. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Dude,” says Denki, his toothbrush clinking against the edge of the sink. “Are you, like… good?”
“Just worried,” he says truthfully. He opens his eyes again. Denki is staring at him with unguarded concern. He shrugs after a moment.
“Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”
Izuku nods. “I won’t.”
He hides away in a bathroom stall until the room is empty, then lowers his face into his hands and holds back a scream.
Stress has always done weird things to his body. He used to suffer through awful colds as a kid after big tests at school or big fights with Kacchan. This had mostly stopped after receiving One For All, and he’d just assumed that it would stay that way.
Snot drips from his nose. He wipes his face into a tissue, flicking it into the growing pile in the bottom of the trash can. He pokes at his rice, stomach grumbling and yet refusing to accept any new offerings.
His classmates weren’t happy that he wanted to eat in his room, but everyone’s been really nice about giving him space. Even Tenya and Shouto, though uneasy, let him go upstairs alone. He looks up at the closed curtains, and wonders if someone is waiting on the roof or one of the balconies to make sure he doesn’t make a break for it.
Izuku brings a small bite of rice to his lips. He chews slowly, and swallows it down with water. He waits over the trash can, but it doesn’t come back up. Slowly, painstakingly, he eats his entire meal like this, leaving his room twice to refill his glass in the bathroom sink down the hall.
He leaves about half the rice on the plate by the end, and barely touches the eggs. It’s a shame, he thinks, for it to go to waste.
A coughing fit on the way downstairs nearly has him expelling his breakfast all over the banister, but he manages to hold it in. He stumbles into the kitchen, ignoring the concerned glances his classmates try to send his way.
He’s just stressed. They understand, surely. He knows they do.
Tenya approaches him as he scrapes the remnants of his eggs and rice into the kitchen trash. He puts a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, and Izuku explodes backwards, plate shattering on the tile, blackwhip bursting from his skin to shove his boyfriend away.
“Oh,” he gasps, bringing a hand up to shield his face. Izuku goes red, forcing blackwhip back under his skin. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, amplifying his heartbeat in his ears.
“I-I’m sorry,” he says, voice thick. He steps toward Tenya, hands trembling. Tenya smiles at him softly, and Izuku realizes this is the expression he saves for Eri – for a scared child.
“It’s quite alright,” says Tenya, adjusting his glasses.
“I should have… I knew it was you, and I just…”
“Really. It’s okay, Izuku.” He glances down, eyes widening. “Oh, no!”
Izuku follows his gaze, and sees blood slowly spreading across the tile where he’s stepped on a piece of the broken plate. He blinks. The pain finally registers, sharp and stinging. How had he not noticed?
Without speaking, Tenya scoops Izuku into his arms and dances carefully through the kitchen, avoiding the shards on the floor. Across the room, Tokoyami sweeps forward, sending Dark Shadow to get a broom.
“Here,” says Yaoymomo, pulling tweezers and gauze from under her pyjama top.
“It’s really not that bad,” says Izuku. He’s set gently on the couch, leg propped up on the coffee table.
“It’s bleeding a lot,” says Mina. A small crowd has gathered from the kitchen to watch, but Yaymomo waves most of them away. Kacchan stays, arms crossed as he glares down at the coffee table.
“This may be painful,” says Yaoymomo, “but try not to move, please.”
Tenya holds Izuku’s hand as she carefully pulls a few shards of glass from his foot. He feels the pain now, but it barely registers. She looks up at him every few seconds, seemingly concerned by his silence.
As she roots around for the final piece of glass, he feels a cough bubble up in his throat. He tries to hold it back, breathing from his nose, but the itch grows and grows until he has no choice but to breathe in and let it out.
“Sorry,” he wheezes, twitching away from the tweezers for the first time. She waits patiently for him to finish coughing, and Tenya pats his back carefully.
“All done,” she says a moment later, tearing a strip of gauze to tie it around his foot. “You should try to get Recovery Girl to give this a look when she’s free.”
“I will,” he says, clearing his throat. Tenya rubs his arm gently, then gives him a firm squeeze.
“I apologize for scaring you,” he says. “I should have announced myself before sneaking up on you like that.”
“You’re fine, really. I’m just a bit stressed, and tired… I overreacted.”
“I should have anticipated that. Don’t blame yourself.”
Izuku decides to give up on this particular fight, pressing against Tenya’s chest. Tenya wraps his arms around him and presses his chin over the top of Izuku’s head.
“I’ll take you to see Recovery Girl when she’s done checking over the new evacuees. No training until then, okay?”
Izuku nods slowly. “That seems fair.”
He looks down at his bandaged foot and flexes his toes. He could just use float to stay off of it – that’s what he did when he twisted his ankle in the first week – but it’s probably wise not to stress himself too much more.
It’s only one afternoon. He should use it to rest, and get over this little head cold. He snuggles against Tenya, smiling as someone drapes a blanket over his shoulders.
“Wake up, Midoriya.”
He blinks. His eyelids are heavy. His limbs are like cement blocks.
“Recovery… Girl…?”
She stares at him, profoundly unimpressed. She sighs heavily, dramatically, and pulls out a granola bar from her coat pocket. “You’re sick, aren’t you?”
He takes the proffered snack with the coordination of a toddler. She catches it before it can slip from his fingers, unwrapping one corner and pressing it to his lips.
“I’m… fine.”
She stares at him again as he takes a careful bite of granola. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t have passed out on one of my gurneys, dear.”
“I’m just… very tired…”
Her expression softens. “I know, dear. You have every right to be. That’s why you need rest – especially if you’re sick, too.”
He stuffs the rest of the granola bar in his mouth. “Not sick. Jus’ tired.”
She scoffs. “Well, either way, Midoriya… Our hopes rest with you. So go get some rest.”
He sits on the bed awhile longer, chewing the granola and mustering the energy to walk back to the dorms. Tenya is waiting outside in the hall, hunched over his phone. He straightens the instant the door opens.
“You were in there for some time,” he says. Izuku nods. “Is everything alright?”
“We just had a long talk about my health,” he says, fighting the urge to sniffle. “She thinks I should be getting more rest, that’s all.”
“And we all agree,” says Tenya. Izuku hums. “I mean it. We want you to do your best. Right now, that means taking time to relax and rebuild your strength.”
“Is that why you didn’t book a gym today?”
“Oh, we did. We have one booked every day for the next month.”
“Oh.”
He lets Tenya walk him home. They pass a few evacuees on campus, most of whom avert their gaze. One girl gives him a big thumbs up, and another waves shyly. A businessman in a ragged suit bows slightly, even as his wife turns her nose up at them.
Izuku nods back at him. The man offers a small smile before disappearing down the path.
“Do you think Nezu can really keep all of these people safe?” he asks quietly, when it doesn’t seem like anyone else is around. Tenya nods confidently.
“Between his security modifications, and our experience as heroes in training, I am certain that no harm will come to them.”
Izuku hums. He sniffles, swallowing back more phlegm. His head aches by the time they make it back to the dorms, and even though the day is barely halfway through, he finds himself longing to go back to bed.
He sits on the couch by Tenya’s instead, half asleep and hiding his sniffles.
Izuku doesn’t remember walking up the stairs or even taking the elevator to get to his room, but he wakes up in his bed, tucked carefully under the covers. He blinks blearily. His alarm clock tells him it’s almost half past 9PM, so he slept for nearly seven hours.
He swings his legs off the side of the bed and reaches blindly for the tissue box on his desk. His head feels like it might split open. Finally his fingers find the edge of the box, and he pulls it toward him, feeling around each side for the opening.
Blowing his nose feels like heaven. He tosses the tissues in the general direction of the trash can, likely missing by a long shot. He can’t find it in himself to care at the moment.
He collapses back on the bed. He should go back to sleep. His body needs rest, clearly – that much is no longer up for debate. Izuku groans.
It takes all of his strength to stand and stagger towards the door, tissue box still gripped tight in his hand. His fingers miss the handle a few times, but eventually he manages to grip it and swing the door open, blanching at the sudden appearance of light from the hallway.
“Ow,” he groans, voice stuffier than it had been just a few hours ago. He shuffles down the hall, one arm raised over his face. A chill washes over him as he reaches the stairs, and he pauses, wrapping both arms around his torso.
“…worried about him,” says Shouto, voice carrying from downstairs. Izuku lowers himself, sitting carefully against the wall.
“I know,” says Ochako. “I mean, at least he’s back now, right?”
“But he’s still working himself to the bone!” cries Eijirou. Izuku can see, in his mind’s eye, the way he might throw his hands up in frustration. “If he’s supposed to face off with All For One soon, which is super unfair, by the way –”
“Then we need him to take care of himself!”
“We need to encourage and support him,” says Tenya.
“I’m surprised he isn’t awake yet…”
“Does one of you want to go check on him?”
“I can go,” Shouto says. Izuku tenses. He should go back to his room, or maybe to the bathroom – or he could go downstairs now, and just pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping on their conversation?
“…I don’t think that will be necessary,” says Ochako. “Deku-kun?”
He blinks. Looking over his shoulder, he sees the group standing near the base of the stairs, craning their necks upward to see him sitting against the wall.
“Did he fall asleep trying to get down the stairs…?” Eijirou whispers. “It’s worse than we thought…!”
“I, ah…” he trails off, unsure how to explain himself.
“You were listening in on our conversation, huh?” Kacchan barks, hands popping with miniature explosions. He seems to realize this after a second, and balls his fists closed with a growl. “That’s rude, you know!”
“S-Sorry.”
He pushes himself to his feet, deciding at the last minute to leave the tissue box on the floor. He clings to the banister on his way down the stairs, stomach churning.
“Are you sure you don’t want to just go back to bed?” Ochako asks, brow crinkling in concern. He shakes his head.
“I’m all good,” he says, voice still thick. Kacchan stares at him, eyes narrowed.
“You’re making everyone worried,” he says. “Would you just take it easy for once?”
“Do you even know who you’re talking to, bro?”
“Everyone’s hopes are riding on me,” Izuku says quietly, just above a whisper. He blinks. Pressure wells up suddenly behind his eyes, and he shakes his head. “I can’t take it easy, Kacchan. Even if I want to.”
“That’s bull and you know it. The whole point of bringing you back was to give you a place to rest.”
“Sure, we want to help you train, but not if this is what it does to you!”
He swallows back tears. “I appreciate it. Really. But… Even though you’re my friends… this isn’t your fight…”
“Like hell it isn’t!”
“Your fight is our fight,” says Tenya, eyes suddenly ablaze. “Don’t forget what you said to me that day. Don’t you dare.”
Meddling when you don’t need to…
Izuku shakes his head again.
“Look at us, please,” Shouto says. Izuku pulls his gaze from the floor. “You’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself. Some of it is necessary. But not all of it. Let us help you. Let us in.”
“I am,” he says. “I did.”
“You’re not,” says Kacchan. Izuku looks at him and finds a tired expression, bags under his eyes. “You say you are, but you’re not. Don’t lie to us. We deserve better than that.”
Tears spill down Izuku's face. He brings up a single hand to wipe them away, and coughs into his elbow. He can't stop coughing, fighting desperately against the itch in his throat.
He wheezes, sucking in air through his teeth. His throat is scraped raw, and finally the itch subsides, leaving him nearly doubled over with his arm in front of his face.
“Are you…?”
“I'm fine,” he rasps. “I’m… Really, I…”
“You're unwell,” says Shouto. He puts a hand on Izuku's shoulder.
“No…”
“I'm getting the thermometer,” says Eijirou, running past Izuku towards the kitchen.
“Stop,” he says between breaths. “I’m okay. I'll be okay.”
“You have a cold,” Ochako says. She walks forward, letting out a quiet laugh as she glances up the stairs and sees the tissue box abandoned at the top. “Did you seriously think we wouldn't notice?”
Well. He had hoped.
“I’ll get over it,” he croaks, sounding distinctly like Tsuyu for a moment. Shouto rubs at his shoulder. “I don't have time to be sick. We have to prepare… I have to prepare…”
“How many times do we have to tell you that resting is how you prepare?” Kacchan snaps, crossing his arms tight over his chest.
“I know. I know.”
Shouto holds him up as Eijirou returns with the thermometer. He begrudgingly lets them take his temperature, and slightly less begrudgingly lets Shouto carry him back upstairs when the reading comes back as 38.9°C. He swipes a cold hand across Izuku's forehead, tucking him gently under his thinnest blanket.
Tenya follows them into the room, and he sees the rest of the group backlit in the doorway.
“I was going to tell you if it got worse,” Izuku says, though he's not entirely sure if it's the truth or not. Tenya and Shouto share a look.
“Maybe tell us at the beginning, next time,” Tenya suggests, squeezing Izuku’s hand.
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for everything,” says Shouto. He cups Izuku's face with one hand. “You have a lot on your plate right now. We all understand that, which is why we want to support you, and be there for you. But you have to let us.”
“I will. From now on, I promise I will.”
“Good,” Tenya says. “That's all we ask for.”
He manages to convince Shouto to snuggle with him for a while on the grounds that it will help with his fever, but Tenya ends up going to sleep in his own room for the night, wary of catching Izuku’s cold.
He curls against Shouto’s side, pressing his forehead against his chest. He looks in the darkness toward the closed curtains, and wonders how many sunrises he has left before it is time to face All For One. They are running out of time, he can feel it. If they wait too long…
Izuku closes his eyes. There is nothing he can do tonight, not while he is sick and stressed and tired. Maybe in the morning, if he feels better, he will speak to All Might and begin the search again. Or maybe he will wait another few days, curled against the people he loves, borrowing enough of their strength and resolve as he needs to see this through.
His uncertainty follows him even now, as he drifts off to sleep. Shouto's fingers brush through his hair, and his voice whispers soft affirmations into the dark, and Izuku sleeps again without nightmares.